Page 41 of Fatal By Design
Hugh had recruited both Lord Thornton and Michael to ride with him to Pyke-on-Wending, and the three had left just after breakfast, before most of the other guests had risen from their beds. Audrey, however, had been awake and ready to greet them as they descended the main stairwell in their riding clothes.
She’d debated over donning her riding habit and simply insisting upon joining them, but knowing that Michael would pitch a fit, she’d abstained—though with great difficulty. The most important thing was that Millie be found, and whether Audrey was with them or not at the time did not matter. She trusted Hugh and Michael, and of course Lord Thornton, who had brought with him his medical bag out of precaution. Audrey was also mindful of the difficult position Genie was currently in. To be hosting a house party while a black cloud hung overhead was challenge enough. To have her mourning sister-in-law riding off in a search party, inspiring gossip, would only lead to more censure. With Genie so newly a duchess, Audrey knew this party was important to her, to set her place in society. And so far, it was off to a rocky beginning.
However, as the ladies by the lake fanned themselves and spoke of the new Viscount Neatham, Audrey decided her sister-in-law owed her a great debt for behaving herself and staying at Greenbriar.
“His transformation has been nothing short of miraculous,” Lady Kettleridge exclaimed. It seemed this was the only way she said anything—with great emotion and enthusiasm. “Like changing water into wine!”
Next to her, Mrs. Filmore, who was more reserved and poised, sipped her glass of lemonade before saying, “I have heard he is looking to lease Neatham House on Kensington Square. Doesn’t want it.”
“Kensington Square?” Miss Cynthia Stewart echoed. “Oh, how I adore Kensington Square. I can’t imagine why he would not want to live there.”
“Can you truly not?” Cassie interjected, a touch harsher than necessary. She sent Miss Stewart an incisive stare. “He can’t have many fond memories of that house. And I don’t think he has changed so very much,” she added, coming to Hugh’s stalwart defense.
Lady Veronica beat her lace fan, her steady gaze hitching on Cassie. “Ah, yes. You knew him previously when he was but a Bow Street Runner.”
The other ladies glanced toward Audrey, expecting Veronica to include her as one of Hugh’s earlier acquaintances. When she did not, and did not even look Audrey’s way, it was purposefully done.
“Officer,” Audrey said.
Veronica blinked and looked over, as if just noticing she was there. “I’m sorry?”
“Officer. He was a Bow Streetofficer. And they do not overly like to be called Runners.”
A false smile stretched the young woman’s pillowy lips. “Is that so? How knowledgeable of you, Your Grace.”
Her mockery made Audrey wish she had not risen to her petty goading. She merely smiled in return and bowed her head, as if saying, “You’re welcome.”
Genie, who always seemed to know what to say to either deflect conflict or redirect sticky conversations, shifted eight-month-old George on her lap. “Fine clothes and a title can only change a man to a certain degree,” the duchess said evenly as the little boy reached pudgy hands toward his mother’s face. His jet ringlets and big blue eyes sent a pang of longing though Audrey.
She and Philip had agreed from the outset that they would not have a child, and when he’d more recently suggested adoption, she had been uninterested. But that did not mean she didn’t want a child. As Genie spoke in support of Hugh now, Audrey recalled his comment the previous night, that he did not wish to get her with child. Had he meant just not now, or not ever?
“Lord Neatham was raised by a gentleman to be a gentleman,” the duchess concluded.
Audrey smiled warmly at her diplomatic sister-in-law.
“And a handsome one at that,” Lady Kettleridge said with a giggle.
Genie smiled tightly. She would not be persuaded into trivial chatter. “I am glad he has come. It’s quite fortunate, in fact, given his background and the unforeseen circumstances.”
Again, the ladies’ attentions shifted to Audrey, where she sat on the outer edge of the circle, in a spot of shade provided by a willow tree.
“I am so very sorry about the happenings with Lady Redding,” Mrs. Stewart said, her expression one of genuine concern. She wasn’t as talkative as the other ladies, and her daughter, Cynthia was much the same. They both appeared content to observe and offer a comment now and again.
“Thank you,” Audrey said. “Though I am certain Lord Neatham will locate her.”
Hopefully, he was finding her even as she spoke.
“Yes, he is quite impressive.” Veronica fanned herself languidly. “However, he does have the burden of repairing the Neatham name. His best chance for that will be to take a wife with impeccable character, one who does not have the incumbrance of past scandal herself.”
It was painfully obvious of whom she was speaking. Cassie rolled her eyes as she sipped her lemonade. Lady Kettleridge made an approving trill.
“Yes, indeed, he requires a lady who can smooth his rough edges, is that not right?”
Veronica’s answering simper made her appear like a cat finding a bowl of cream.
“Oh, I think his edges aren’t so very rough,” Cynthia said. “He seemed perfectly charming last evening at dinner.”
Cassie snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “If you think scowling is charming. He looked miserable to me.”
