Page 78

T he next morning, Lora came downstairs to break her fast, noting the late hour.

Full sleep had never come, though she’d dozed at her desk while studying maps of the area.

She replayed the altercation with the man on the road repeatedly in her head until she couldn’t glean any more information, breaking down the encounter for clues where Clyde might take refuge.

Fingering her mourning ring, a lock of Nicholas’s hair artfully braided and arranged within to form a heart, she fought back tears. No matter how close she came to exacting vengeance, nothing would bring her brother back.

How did one muster on when love seemed lost forever?

Entering the breakfast room, she was astonished to discover that Miss Parr and Miss Finch were already seated, despite having been given every impression that the two women did not want to be seen. They rose abruptly, as if caught doing something untoward.

“Miss Parr. Miss Finch.” The two women exhibited social graces as curtsies were exchanged, making Lora believe they hailed from elevated Society.

“What a surprise, and a pleasure to see you up and about this fine day. How are you faring? I admit that I did not expect to find you out and about so soon.”

Miss Parr blushed and shot Ruth a glance. “Thank you for your concern, but there is no need to be alarmed.”

“But surely, after what has happened, your health is an immediate concern. Has my father’s surgeon examined you?”

“My lady?—”

“Lady Lora, what Ruth means to say is that you are very kind,” Miss Parr cut in. “And we take great joy in your hospitality. But that won’t be possible. It would be unacceptable to distract the doctor from your father’s care, let alone allow a strange man to evaluate my condition. You understand.”

“I do not.” Lora blinked. What reason could the woman have for being dead set against a doctor’s care?

“Dr. Wells is here daily, and Papa’s needs are moderate.

Allow him to examine you and ensure that, other than significant bruising, nothing has been overlooked.

I insist.” The silence that met her was palpable.

Was Miss Parr concerned about being a burden and an inconvenience to their guests?

“We are happy for you to remain at Winterbourne for as long as it takes to heal from your injuries. I assure you that you are welcome here.”

“Thank you. We are in your debt, more than you know.” Raising a cup of tea to her lips, Miss Parr peered out the double windows as if seeing something that wasn’t there.

Lora nodded to a footman who poured her a cup of chocolate. “May I ask where were you headed before someone attacked your carriage, Miss Parr?”

“Mina.” She lowered her teacup. “If we are to be friends, you must call me Mina.”

Lora smiled, filled with an assurance that she was going to enjoy being around Mina immensely.

“Mina. Then you must call me Lora. I shall hear of nothing less.” Now to tackle the problem head on.

Ruth looked extremely uncomfortable. Why?

Was it because she sat at a nobleman’s table and feared reproach?

“While you are here, do not be troubled. I understand how hard it must be to rely on strangers.”

Mina leaned across the table to clutch Lora’s hand. “But we are not strangers, not anymore. What you have done?—”

“And who do we have here?” Aunt Meg interrupted fortuitously upon entering the breakfast room at her normal time. A late riser, and her curiosity piqued, she did not mince words. “I do not recall meeting these two guests. Have they just arrived, Lora?”

“Late last night, in fact. Allow me to introduce Miss Wilhelmina Parr and Miss Ruth Finch. Difficulty on the road prevented them from arriving in time for the ball, Aunt.”

“Oh, dear.” Her aunt scrutinized the two women, and after a lengthy pause, said, “I hope you did not suffer the indignity of a loose wheel.” Shuffling to a chair at the end of the table, her pristine skirts swishing about her, she waited for a footman to help her sit down.

“Inoperative wheels take forever to rectify and often leave one standing in ankle-deep mud. Heavens! The very thought.”

“No, Aunt.” Lora smiled, hoping to ease Mina and Ruth’s discomfort. She suspected distorting the truth agitated the two women. “It was not a loose wheel.”

“Ah. Good news!” Meg nodded to the footman, who poured her a steaming cup of chocolate.

“There is not much of that these days, except for the end of the war and Napoleon’s well-deserved comeuppance.

But with all of our countrymen returning and a lack of jobs waiting, things are .

. . Well, nothing seems right.” Her thoughts jumped to another topic.

“Back to pleasantries. Where are you from?”

Here was a question even Lora wanted to know the answer to and waited expectantly to hear.

A forlorn smile flit across Mina’s face. “Across the Thames.”

“That is very vague.” Meg set her teacup down. “That could be anywhere, East End, West End, Chelsea, Mayfair.”

“Mina’s wit is invigorating, is it not?” Lora laughed and nodded, encouraging Mina and Ruth to join her.

“I always say that Chelsea continues to deprive us of each other’s company.

It’s a pity that Mina’s sister demands so much of her time.

Oh, how I covet that precious bond.” She glanced at her aunt, hating the lie but knowing the suggested attachment would win her aunt’s sympathies.

“I know you understand the extraordinary bond between sisters, Aunt.”

Meg’s eyes turned wistful. “How well, I do. A sister’s love surpasses all.” Gathering her emotions, she asked, “And you are unmarried, Miss Parr?”

“At the moment, yes.”

Meg furrowed her brows. “What an odd answer.”

But before her aunt could question Mina further, Lora’s father ambled into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped almost as soon as he cleared the door and stared, dumbfounded, at the full table before him.

“Good morning, Papa.” Lora left her seat to greet him and help him to his place at the head of the table.

“Forgive me,” he said, taking in their new guests. “I thought most of our party had broken their fast and that the dining room would be empty.”

“Nonsense,” Meg said. “Join us at your leisure, my lord. It so happens we have the pleasure of entertaining new friends of Lora’s acquaintance, Miss Parr and Miss Finch. Miss Parr. Miss Finch, the Marquess of Putney.”

They exchanged courtesies.

Lora continued leading her father to the head of the table, where a footman eased him into his chair and retrieved his cane.

All the while, she could not help but notice his attention kept straying to Mina.

An involuntary reaction sent a swirling current of delight flowing through her.

Why, if she wasn’t mistaken, Papa could hardly take his eyes off Miss Wilhelmina Parr.

Could this be the miracle she’d been praying for?

Though Mina pretended not to notice, an instant spark ignited the room, producing cheerful smiles.

Artless and serene eyes absorbed the moment, and Papa instantly regained his full, masculine laugh.

The surprising interaction planted a seed in Lora’s mind, furthering her hopes.

Could Mina’s arrival be the answer to their problems?

She was young and unmarried, and Papa’s spirits definitely benefited from her youthful presence.

Of course, it is too soon to contemplate marriage. None of them knew who Mina was or where she’d come from, or why she was traveling the road late at night without a proper chaperone. But, for the first time in a long time, hope blossomed in Lora’s breast.

Until her cousin barged into the room, followed by the Duke of Beresford, and stopped cold. Several awkward moments later, Samuel placed his fowling piece against the wall. “Uncle, should you be up and about?”

Papa ignored Samuel’s patronizing tone and instantly salvaged the mood as he rose. “Good day, Your Grace.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Marquess,” the duke quickly said, motioning for Lora’s father to stay seated. “Not on my account. I am the one who is happy to finally obtain an audience with you.”

The duke’s calm consideration for his host was a stark contrast to Samuel’s ill-bred haste. And to everyone’s utter disbelief, Lora’s cousin clomped to the sideboard in his gaiters, stuffed his plate, then plopped down in a chair next to her and began wolfing down his food.

She closed her eyes, praying for patience, before redirecting her attention to the duke, who still wore a double-breasted frock coat and carried his fowling piece. Mortified, she asked, “Did you enjoy your sport?”

“Yes, how was the hunt, Your Grace?” Papa’s deepest regret was being unable to take part in the pastime. “I hope my gamekeeper brought out my prized pointers.”

“They did a fine job of flushing out the grouse.” He lifted his shotgun. “And I’m impressed with this piece. Is it from Davies Street?”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere else,” Papa said. “Manton is very reliable.”

Lora’s pulse suddenly leaped as he stroked the barrel. His powerful hands, masculine attire, and graceful movements were everything The Sporting Magazine suggested made for a superb hunter. “Astounding accuracy. I lost count at fifty.”

Samuel stopped slurping his coffee to say, “Paget said I shot seventy-five.”

“Join us, Your Grace.” Lora pushed up her glasses and saddled her nose, conscious of keeping up appearances. “I am sure you must have worked up an appetite.”

“Thank you.” The look on the duke’s face, however, implied that he would not accept. “I have something I need to attend to. There are matters I would like to discuss with you, Marquess, when you are available.”

Papa quit the conversation he was having with Mina and gave the duke his full attention. “Of course. I shall be happy to meet you in my study in an hour’s time, if that is acceptable.”