Page 42 of Fatal By Design
Veronica and her mother openly glared at Cassie, while Audrey pinned the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing.
These ladies were not the only ones in the ton who were fascinated with Hugh. No doubt, the taint of his former blackguard status kindled their interests. He was unlike any of the men of their social circles. However, Audrey could now tuck away her resentment for Veronica and her ilk; there was no longer any reason for her to doubt Hugh or his feelings for her. She drained her own glass of lemonade while wearing a satisfied grin.
“It is regrettable the duke and Lords Neatham and Thornton will miss the regatta,” Mrs. Filmore said. “It leaves the crews in quite the lurch.”
When Audrey had met them at the base of the stairs that morning, Michael had treated the outing like a fool’s errand. He had sent bailiffs and farmers all over the county in search of Millie, including to Montague Lodge in Pyke-on-Wending. The light staff there informed the inquiring bailiff that Lord Montague was not in residence this summer; he was in Lyme Regis, taking the sea air and salt water for his ailing joints and lungs. The house was empty, and no one had seen anything untoward, especially not the Viscountess Redding herself. But, unsatisfied with taking another person’s word for it, Hugh had wanted another look.
“Perhaps we should postpone,” Genie said with a sigh.
Mr. Flint, Michael’s steward, had been recruited to stand in for the duke, and Basil for Hugh, though the valet made no attempt to mask his disdain for the task. Hugh must have forced him somehow, and the middle-aged man now stood at the docks in his usual suit and with his usual haughty grimace, flapping his hand in front of his face to bat away a fly.
“There is no call for that,” Cassie said, standing from her chair. “Didn’t we discuss ladies participating last night at dinner? The duke approved. As such, I volunteer.”
With that, she left the ladies and made her way to the dock. Tobias saw her coming and pulled a vexed face.
“I planned to sit as coxswain,” Veronica said, “but I hardly think missing three of the strongest men gives either crew much of a chance now.”
Hugh’s absence had surely stemmed her interest as well.
“I think the crews will be evenly weighted, and certainly one must be the victor,” Audrey said, admiring her younger sister-in-law as she presented herself to the other rowers. Mr. Filmore heartily welcomed her, as did Lord Kettleridge, though the others were less keen.
“It is becoming quite sweltering,” Lady Veronica said, then leaned forward, directing her comment toward Audrey. “My goodness, Your Grace, you must be feeling the heat keenly wearing all that black. Perhaps you would fare better inside?”
The woman was more insufferable than the sun. Audrey stood up from her chair, eager to be gone, though not in the direction Veronica longed for.
“I volunteer as well,” she said, stoking gasps from Lady Kettleridge and Genie.
“Are you quite certain, Audrey?” Genie said, standing up and handing her now squirming son to the nursemaid. She seemed to swoon a little, and Audrey reached for her.
“Are you unwell?”
Genie shook her head and laughed. “Just this heat. I’m feeling faint. I do worry you’ll feel the same if you row.”
She didn’t add that a woman in mourning should not be rowing with men in a regatta to begin with. But if she could not be riding with Hugh to Montague Lodge, she refused to sit around moping.
“I’m made of heartier stuff than that,” she said, then started for the dock too. Cassie grinned broadly, and with their numbers now fully restored, the men made ready to get the race underway.
However, they were disrupted once more, this time by a well-dressed man as he walked alone down the sloping lawn toward their gathering. He looked to be in his middle thirties, and with his tailored summer suit and walking stick, he also looked every inch a gentleman.
“O-ho! What fortune!” Lord Kettleridge called as he caught sight of the man. Every head turned to see the approaching visitor.
“Mr. Henley, you have come at last,” Genie said, starting toward him.
Audrey’s stomach seemed to turn to stone as the man smiled gaily and sketched a genteel bow.Thiswas Mr. Henley?
“Please accept my most earnest apologies, Your Grace,” he said as all the men started forward as well. “I am dreadfully rude arriving with no forewarning.”
“Not at all,” Genie said, and she sounded completely genuine. “But I confess, we had not thought to see you.”
“I was saddened to give my regrets, especially after so looking forward to attending. However, much to my surprise and delight, I was able to get away from the business that had been keeping me in London.” He doffed his buff-colored top hat and tucked his walking stick under his arm, giving Genie a pleading grimace that still managed to be charming. “I do hope I am still welcome?”
“Why, of course you are, Mr. Henley, and what magnificent timing too.” Genie started to lead Mr. Henley to the dock. “You are just in time for our regatta.”
Audrey inspected Lord Cartwright’s cousin—and had to admit that he appeared rather affable and handsome. He had a pleasing grin, and his golden hair fell in charming curls over his brow.
“How marvelous!” he exclaimed, much like Lady Kettleridge was wont to do. “I rowed at Oxford. Which of your crews requires another strong back and pair of arms?”
He shed his jacket with enthusiasm, and Basil leaped away from the dock with visible relief. “Please, do takemyspot, sir.”
