Page 55 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

Fenella was diverted by the sound of horses through the open window. She went to look out. A carriage had arrived in front of the house. A footman had sprung down and was helping an older lady out. As she stepped onto the gravel, hoofbeats heralded a rider, and Roger came riding down the drive toward the front door. The lady turned. The footman handed another older female from the carriage.

Roger pulled up at the sight of them. He paused, spoke to the ladies, then turned his mount away and trotted off.

Fenella watched him go with a keen sense of disappointment. She needed to see him, for a number of reasons. Roger’s expression, insofar as she could see it from this distance, had been odd. “I must go, Papa,” she said. “We have visitors.”

“To see me?”

Perhaps they had come to cheer her father, Fenella thought as another older lady emerged from the coach. She couldn’t think of another reason for this group to arrive together. “I’ll bring them up to you after a bit.” She went to receive them.

Fenella found four women of her mother’s generation in the drawing room, standing in a group that had the distinct feeling of a delegation. They included the leading female figures of her neighborhood. Colonel Patterson’s extremely correct wife was there, and Lady Prouse, the spouse of the local baronet. Mrs. McIlwaine, whose husband was the largest landowner in the area after Roger, stood next to Mrs. Byrne. These latter two were the mothers of Roger’s old friends. Fenella wondered that the vicar’s wife was not among them. She usually formed part of their distaff cabal.

The callers looked serious when she greeted them and asked them to sit down. Fenella had ordered refreshment to be brought on her way downstairs.

“We felt it best to come and speak to you,” said Mrs. Patterson.

“To me?” So they hadn’t come to see her father.

“Because of something that has begun to happen in the neighborhood,” said Mrs. Byrne.

Fenella tried to imagine what could it be. If the estate’s cattle had broken loose and ravaged a farmer’s fields, he wouldn’t send these grand ladies to protest. If they wanted her help in some charitable endeavor, they’d send a note. And expect her to cough up a donation. Which she would. There was no need for a formal request. These ladies ran local society without her help.

“Some very strange letters have been arriving,” said Lady Prouse. “Disturbing. Each of us has received one.”

“Delivered by hand,” said Mrs. Byrne. “Not by the mail.”

“Anonymous letters,” said Mrs. Patterson. “Which are a despicable thing.”

Fenella stared at the four venerable faces confronting her. A tremor went through her suddenly. “What kind of letters?”

“Outrageous ones,” replied Mrs. Patterson.

“Dreadful,” declared Mrs. McIlwaine.

“Reviving that ridiculous story about the young marchioness’s death,” said Lady Prouse.

“Story?” But Fenella knew the answer.

“These letters claim that you egged her on to ride out in the storm,” said Mrs. McIlwaine.

“And that you were well aware that she had weak lungs,” added Mrs. Byrne. “And was particularly susceptible to chills. Had been all her life.”

Was there a hint of relish in her voice, Fenella wondered. No, she was imagining it.

“Of course none of us ever believed you were at fault,” said Colonel Patterson’s stately wife. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but the young marchioness was a headstrong girl.”

“Verymodernmanners,” said the baronet’s spouse. “No one imagined you could suggest anything tothatyoung woman.”

Yet all four ladies were looking at her, waiting for something. “Of course they’re not true,” said Fenella, humiliated by the need to deny. “I begged Arabella not to ride out.”

“You went with her,” said Lady Prouse.

“When I saw that she wouldn’t be convinced, I did. To make sure she got home safely.” Arabella had been in such a reckless mood that day. Fenella had worried about a fall from her horse.

Mrs. Byrne looked reluctant, but it didn’t keep her from asking, “Didyou know that she had a history of lung complaints?”

“I did not. She said something about it after she became ill.” Did they not believe her?

“Miss Fairclough is not required to defend herself,” said Mrs. Patterson. “We didn’t come here for that. We all know her and admire her character.” She met Fenella’s eyes with a grave glance. “We thought you should know, however.”

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