Page 27 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

George inspected the pieces of meat, suspecting that more than one was not as fresh as she wished. “Ah, that there—I will take the lamb, please.”

“Would you like me to cut it?”

“No.”

George was not going to take any chance that the piece of meat she saw would be exchanged for another of lesser quality—a trick Phil learned after the less than scrupulous, now no longer in business, butcher switched out their pork loin for one too far gone to eat.

Since she did not know this man well enough yet, she would not trust their precious money to chance.

The butcher wrapped the lamb shank in paper under George’s watchful eye.

They exited the shop to discover a fine mist falling.

“Oh,” whined Timothy, “I knew it would rain.”

“We have our warm wraps and our best boots. We should hurry home before the storm grows.”

“It always gets worse and we will be soaked through.” Timothy was not wrong in his statement.

“If we try to wait it out, it could be quite some time.”

At the end of the street a carriage stopped before them.

The door opened, and Lord Banbridge leaned out. “In answer to your question, Timothy—a man on horseback can make it home, get his carriage, and return to town before a lady and her young cousin can complete their shopping. Would you like a ride, Miss Lightwood?”

Timothy climbed into the carriage before George could answer.

“It seems Timothy has decided for us. Thank you.”

A footman took George’s basket from her, set it on the floor of the carriage and helped her inside.

“I hope you do not think it was too presumptuous of me to stop. I had an errand in town, which I also completed—so add that into your mathematics, Timothy.”

“How am I supposed to do math for that?”

“It would be a very interesting equation. We will have to work it out when we return home,” said George.

“So you have been to town twice today?” asked George. What was this man’s reasoning for why he had come? He had a motherless son, he must be in want of a wife. With her next breath, George prayed she was wrong, almost missing Lord Banbridge’s answer.

“No. When you saw me before, I was returning from another matter.”

The raindrops plunked on the roof of the carriage.

“It is raining harder,” said Timothy, drawing George away from her pondering.

“Very true. You warned me,” said George.

“Mother said it would rain if we walked to the village.”

“Your mother is very wise,” said Lord Banbridge. “I have not seen her often—other than at church. She has not come to a single assembly this year.”

“There are assemblies?” asked George.

“Why, yes. I keep hoping for Mrs. Hale to attend.”

Perhaps her aunt was the reason for this kindness. He was a widower, wasn’t he?

“Perhaps my aunt feels it is better not to leave Timothy to attend them,” George offered.

“I have an idea, what if all of you come to luncheon on Friday afternoon? Patrick will be down from school.” Lord Banbridge’s rushed request was at odds with his calm demeanor. If George had to guess it was this very question which prompted him to bring his carriage to town.

“May we?” Timothy bounced in his seat.

George could not answer him as it was not her place. “I cannot answer on Mrs. Hale’s behalf, but I will relay the invitation.”

“I would extend it myself, but she does not seem to want me inside to visit.”

Timothy talked around the butterscotch he put in his mouth. “Mother does not like visitors.”

They stopped in front of Lightwood Manor. A footman opened the door and helped George out into the heavy falling rain and delivered the basket to the door stoop.

With Timothy’s help, George emptied her basket on the kitchen work table. “Never looks like enough, does it?”

“But you purchased good quality flour—not a single bug in it.”

Elaine unwrapped the packet of lamb. “And this meat! How did you convince the butcher to give you that?”

“I used a trick Phil taught me. You choose the best cut and do not let the butcher cut it again. We met Lord Banbridge. He is a neighbor?”

“Yes, he rents most of the land.” Elaine turned away, though she seemed slightly interested.

“And then again on our way back—we ran into him again with his carriage.”

“Ah, that is how you returned so quickly—and so dry.”

“He’s invited us to luncheon on Friday.”

Elaine paused for a very long moment. “We cannot go.”

Timothy opened his mouth, but George shook her head at him wishing him silent.

“That will be somewhat difficult, considering he told Timothy that Patrick would be home for a few days.”

Elaine bit her lip and looked at her son. “I suppose I must accept, then. The boys have not seen each other since Patrick started at Richmond, and Timothy misses him so.”

“So… you will go?”

“Yes.”

Timothy squealed. Elaine shewed him out of the room.

“May I ask…?” How far could George quiz her aunt?

“There is nothing to tell. Lord Banbridge is only a neighbor.”

“A widower?”

“Yes—His wife died in childbirth with Patrick’s younger sister. I believe she is two or three now.”

“And he has set his cap for you?”

“I said I did not want to discuss him.”

George held the rest of her questions inside. It would not do to ask further when no answers would be given. She would simply have to observe.