Lucy and Mrs. Phippen had been planning on accompanying her to the house party, but at the last minute, both women had become ill with cases of ague. She’d left them buried beneath warm quilts with large pots of hot tea, a plate of biscuits, and instructions to Old Halsey to make sure the downstairs maid checked in on them throughout the days Mina was gone.
She didn’t want to think overly much on the prospect of a holiday house party without Lucy by her side. There would be no one to keep her company while she found some safe corner in which to be ignored.
Bridget had been out in the cold talking to the driver, but now she climbed back inside, her cheeks rosy with the rapidly dropping temperatures.
“What took so long? Is there a problem?”
Bridget gave her a long stare.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
“Nothing, really nothing.”
“Now I know something’s wrong.”
“There are heavy snow clouds from the direction of the Bentworthy estate. We may not be able to outrun the storm.”
“Maybe we should turn around and go back to the Abbey.”
“Oh, no, milady. You’re not getting off that easily. Perhaps you’ll meet the love of your life at this party.”
Mina frowned. “I just spent several months and suffered through dozens of balls, musicales, routs, and assorted dinners during the Season. If I haven’t met the love of my life by now, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen at the Dowager Countess Bentworthy’s party.”
“You don’t know that, Miss Mina.”
“What I do know is this time, I won’t have to put up with His Grace lurking around every corner, lecturing me on how to choose the right sort of man.”
* * *
Hugh maneuvered the tall,slender Duke of Montfort down the rear staircase of their gambling hell to the mews where his man was readying the carriage.
He knew just the thing to get Julian out of his current maudlin state of mind. A holiday house party. Willing widows who could be easily coaxed into bed, cards and drinking for the gentlemen in the evenings, perhaps some target shooting in the afternoons. And then if one was not too hung over, a bracing tramp through the woods would be just the thing to get the blood flowing.
He’d dislodge His Grace from his annoying fits of ennui or die trying. For a while he’d hoped he could convince him to marry the wild Tindall chit so that he could move on with his life. However, when asked why not her, he’d blubbered on and on about some nonsense that she wasn’t the natural child of Lord Rumsford, but the footman. If he made her his duchess, the high-in-the-instep gorgons of thetonwould make her life a living hell, she wouldn’t be accepted in all the best drawing rooms, etc., etc.
Hugh had nearly fallen asleep listening to the entire litany of “why not’s,” so had decided not to bring up the question ever again.
“I say, where are you taking me?”
Instead of answering Julian’s question, Hugh shoved his friend into the carriage and produced another chilled bottle of champagne to keep him subdued for the long trip to Lady Bentworthy’s estate.
18
The slow, lazy flakes of snow did not stay that way for long. The temperature dropped precipitously, and Mina and Bridget bundled themselves in their redingotes over top of their carriage dresses.
They knocked on the roof of the coach once to signal the driver to stop so that they could layer on warmth from extra clothing in the trunks stowed in the boot of the carriage. Bridget suggested adding an extra pair of stockings. Mina was thankful she hadn’t tried to coax Lucy and Mrs. Phippen into coming along in spite of their sniffles.
When the groom had come down to help them retrieve their trunks, the mysterious driver had had to lower the heavy scarf from his face to give the man instructions on how to secure the latch on the boot so that it didn’t jar loose during their trip.
There was something familiar about the new coachman that Mina couldn’t quite place. She dismissed the feeling and blamed it on the overall uneasiness she felt at having been ordered by her mother to go to a holiday house party and not return without a husband.
Of all the men she’d been courted by during the season, she’d truly enjoyed sweet Harry’s company. However, she had to admit the idea of sharing a husband with not one, but two mistresses would have been trying. When would he have found time to spend with her? What was the point of marriage if she’d end up all alone on a remote country estate? That was exactly the way she lived her life presently.
She now realized where Julian had spent his time over the years she hadn’t seen him. He’d been happily ensconced in the arms of Maria, his mistress. She’d turned out to be a beautiful, worldly, and kind woman who’d listened patiently to Mina’s litany of woes involving Julian’s interference in her life.
Whatever cork-brained dream had made her think he’d been all alone, missing her the same way she’d missed him ever since that long ago night of the masque, the masque where he’d danced her across the balcony above the ballroom at the Abbey?
* * *
