Lady Thorne hugged Lavinia. “We’ve done nothing you were not already doing.”
Edith smiled, her gaze locked on Gracie as she shuffled on the ice—legs wide, arms swinging, and her smile even wider. The girl was a true wonder, tackling new activities with little to no fear. Edith admired this quality in her, even though it increased her worry for Gracie’s safety sometimes.
“Well done, Gracie!” Lord Thorne shouted from across the ice. Edith’s employer skated to the edge of the pond and gestured for his wife to join him. “You don’t want to miss skating with her. She’s beside herself with pride.”
Lady Thorne reached out to squeeze Lavinia’s arm. “Will you excuse me to skate with our little sister?”
“Of course. Have fun!” Lavinia waved to Gracie before sidling up to Edith at the fire. Neither she nor Edith knew how to skate; their upbringings hadn’t allowed for leisure activities.
“Where is Lord Thorne’s sister?” Lavinia asked. “I expected her and her new husband to be here in Scotland with the rest of the family.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Hillary have taken a honeymoon trip. I don’t know when they’re expected back.”
“Helena said Cora and the children couldn’t get away before Christmas,” Lavinia said, referencing her and Lady Thorne’s younger sister. “It’s a busy time of the year for the butcher shop, and she didn’t want to leave Mr. White alone.”
“It sounds like she is beginning to mature.” Edith didn’t much care for Cora, but she would never speak ill of Lavinia’s kin. They had all lived through difficult times.
Now that Edith had a quiet moment with her friend, she wanted to ask about Lavinia’s health. Even after a night’s rest, Lavinia seemed fatigued, yawning frequently, her eyelids drooping as if she might fall asleep standing.
“How are you, Lavinia? Are you well?”
“She’s the picture of health.” Lord St. Ambrose’s sudden appearance from behind startled Edith. “Just look at the rosy apples of her cheeks.”
Lavinia cocked an eyebrow. “I wondered when you would join us. You promised business could wait until we returned.”
“Forgive me, my love.” He placed his arm around Lavinia’s shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. “I only wrote to Mother, letting her know we’ve arrived safely.”
Edith doubted there was any mention of ‘we’ in the marquess’s letter. One didn’t need to be a member of High Society to understand the unspoken rules: one never mentioned one’s mistress, especially to one’s mother.
He grinned. “I offered your regards.”
“Of course, you did.” Lavinia rolled her eyes, clearly not taking him seriously. “You also promised to keep our association private.”
“Oh, no. I forgot,” he replied with a chuckle.
Lavinia’s eyes flared wide. “Tell me you didn’t mention me in your letter.”
He shrugged. “Mother will learn about your existence once we’re married. I’d prefer to win her approval before our wedding.”
“August, I already told you there will be no wedding.” Lavinia sighed wearily, even as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his hug.
Edith had grown accustomed to their recurrent arguments over Lord St. Ambrose’s plans for their future. Lavinia’s lack of fire left Edith wondering if the marquess was finally breaking down her friend’s resistance.
“Mistress Gallagher?”
Edith’s heart sped at the sound of her name rolling off Mr. McTaggart’s tongue. She would never admit it to anyone, but she was growing fond of his lovely brogue. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned toward him with a smile. “Good afternoon, sir.”
He held up two skates and aimed his crooked grin at her. “Are you ready for our next adventure?”
She blinked. “Skating? I-I don’t skate.”
“It’s high time you learned, lass. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward a large stump. “I’ll help you strap on the blades and teach you what to do.”
She shook her head, backing away. “You’re not getting me on the ice.”
“You should try,” Lavinia said, stepping forward. “It looks like fun.”
“I don’t see you speeding around the pond.”
