It was an obligatory suggestion. The stablemaster, familiar with Louisa’s ways, undoubtedly knew what the response would be. She smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. McKinney, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
A short while later, she halted Byron at the crest of a rise and breathed deep of the pure air. Here, out in the open, away from the confines of walls and windows, she could think without hindrance or distraction.
Tomorrow, Maxwell would return. Louisa looked forward to it… and also dreaded it a little. Her ire had cooled substantially, though she still hoped to persuade him to change his mind about Uncle Isaac’s birthday gathering. Maybe, since he’d been away, he’d also taken some time to think about it.
She patted Byron’s neck. “Ideally, Byron, my husband will apologize sincerely and then make love to me.” Blushing at the thought, she laughed and looked toward the distant horizon. “Ready for a run, my boy? Let’s go.”
*
“I was beginningto think you’d forgotten about us, dear sister.” Julian’s scowl was belied by a twinkle in his eye. “It’s been what… a whole fortnight since you were last here?”
“Almost three weeks, actually.” Louisa wrinkled her nose. “And it’s nice to know I’ve been so sorely missed, dear brother.”
Julian grinned and settled back in his chair, the delicate china teacup looking quite lost in his large hand. He took a sip.“Where has your esteemed husband gone this time, and for how long?”
“He left for Sheffield on Sunday and should be back tomorrow,” Louisa replied, deciding not to mention anything about their disagreement. “But we recently had a full week together. Actually, almost a week and a half.”
“That long?” He reached for a biscuit. “Goodness. Things are markedly improving, then.”
“I’m not sure they need to improve.” She shrugged. “Have you ever heard me complain about his absences?”
“No, but the time I alluded to you being abandoned, you almost began to cry, so I assumed I’d rubbed salt into a hidden wound.” He dipped the biscuit in his tea. “You do have a tendency to suffer in silence, Lou.”
“Nonsense. It just wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”
“It was said lightly.”
“Well, I didn’t find it funny.”
“Apparently not. Oh, bollocks!” Julian regarded the remains of his biscuit still clasped in his hand, the rest of it relegated to the soggy depths of his teacup.
“That’sfunny,” Louisa said, giggling. “Serves you right for dipping, dear brother. It’s terribly plebeian.”
“Who cares? I’ve no one to impress.” Julian shoved the remainder of his biscuit in his mouth.
“Oh? The last time I spoke with Mama, she hinted that you were corresponding with Miss…” Louisa frowned. “Haverley, is it? Baron Fitzwalter’s daughter?”
Julian grabbed another biscuit. “Haverley, yes. Priscilla.”
“Of course. Priscilla. I remember meeting her at a party in January. Has your correspondence ceased?”
“It has, probably because she has apparently accepted an offer from Cuthbertson.”
Louisa’s teacup paused on its way to her mouth. “As in Viscount?”
“Yes.” He brushed crumbs from his waistcoat. “A little higher up the noble ladder than the son of an army captain.”
“You’re the nephew of an earl.”
“And Cuthbertson is the son of one.”
“You don’t appear to be terribly heartbroken. Would you like my opinion?”
“No.”
“She was too priggish for you.”
“I thought I said no.” Julian scowled into his teacup. “In fact, I’m sure I did.”
