“Thank you, sir.” She dipped her head, wishing she might vanish into the gravel walk.
“Have you a few minutes, Fiennes?” Mr Corey shifted his weight, appearing anxious. “I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Fiennes frowned, glancing at her and then back to Mr Corey. “Elizabeth, walk on. Go to the fountain. I shall follow presently. Kane—attend her.”
Without a word, Elizabeth released her husband’s arm, curtsied to the gentlemen, and proceeded along the path, Kane close behind. As she moved away, she heard Mr Corey say, “You have that one well trained already. How long have you been married?”
She quickened her pace, unwilling to hear her husband’s reply. As she rounded a corner, she collided with a solid form and was thrown backwards.
“Oof!” The sound escaped her before she could prevent it. Dazed, she looked about and saw a boy of perhaps eight years sprawled beside her. He was poorly dressed for the weather. Indeed, he shivered in the cold.
“I beg your pardon, madam,” His voice was clear and cultured. Rising, he offered her his small hand. “My mama says proper gentlemen always help ladies.”
Elizabeth accepted his hand and regained her feet. Kane stood watching in silence, unreadable as ever, and she wondered why he had not stepped forward to assist her.
“Where is your family?” Elizabeth steadied the boy with a gentle hand. “And where is your coat? It is frightfully cold.”
“I left it at home when I ran out,” his small chest puffed out with pride. “Nurse Millie tried to catch me and make me take a bath, but I pretended to be a spy and slipped out the kitchen door.”
“Surely, your mama will worry for your absence.” Elizabeth’s lips curved despite herself.
“She was talking to that old bat.” Looking abashed, he bowed his head. “I am not supposed to call her that.”
Elizabeth glanced towards Kane and noted, with some satisfaction, the faint twitch at his lips.So, you are not made of stone after all. Can you feel, too?That might be useful information.
“And who, pray tell, is this old bat?” She leaned nearer, her curiosity unfeigned.
“My grandmama.” He cupped a hand to his mouth in a conspiratorial whisper as though sharing a family secret. “She always comes to tell my mother what to do. Butsheis not the only countess—Mama is one, too. AndIam the earl! One day I shall manage Halcourt myself!” His eyes sparkled with importance as he straightened to his full height.
“That sounds very grand indeed. Now, perhaps you will show me where you live and we shall see you safely home.”
“Arthur!” A woman’s frantic call reached them. “Arthur Abbott Godfrey, where are you?”
The boy looked down and shuffled his feet. “That is my mama.” He retreated behind Elizabeth as the woman rounded the corner.
“Arthur! There you are!” The lady appeared, breathless; a cloak was thrown hastily over her shoulders and she wore slippers rather than walking boots. “When Nurse told me you were gone… Why would you frighten me so?” The elegant lady caught the boy from behind Elizabeth and wrapped him in a fierce embrace.
“I met a lady.” Arthur pointed over his shoulder at Elizabeth. “I knocked her down and then helped her up, just as you taught me.”
Laughing, the lady stepped back and tweaked his nose. “I do not believe I ever taught you to knock down ladies.” Still smiling, she turned to Elizabeth. “Thank you for detaining my son. Had he not collided with you, he might be halfway to Bond Street by now.”
“It was my pleasure,” Elizabeth studied the woman’s countenance, struck by her calm assurance and kindly air. She was somewhat taller than Jane, which was to saymuchtaller than Elizabeth. She had dark-brown hair, and her eyes were alight with the calm assurance of one seasoned by an extra decade of life thanshecould boast. Something about her presence drew Elizabeth irresistibly; it was as if warmth and contentment shone from within and could not be contained.
“I suppose I ought to introduce myself, though it is most improper to do so first. I was never good at following the rules.” She straightened, her son’s small hand secured firmly in her own. “I am Lady Westland Godfrey, Dowager Countess of Westland. This young rascal is my son, Arthur Abbott Godfrey, the Earl of Westland.”
Elizabeth dropped hastily into a curtsey. “My lord, your ladyship, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Elizabeth Ben—Mrs ElizabethFiennes.Pray, forgive the lapse; I am but lately married and still forget that my name has changed.”
“Married? You cannot be more than sixteen!” Lady Westland looked aghast. “Where is your husband? Is that him?” She inclined her head towards Kane.
“No, ma’am, Kane is my attendant. Mr Fiennes is… Ah, here he comes now.” Elizabeth turned and managed a nervous smile. Her husband’s eyes narrowed, and they flashed with displeasure.
“Elizabeth. Our walk has run long. We must go home.” She knew his tone left no room for discussion.
Panic stirred within her. “Will you allow me to present you to my husband, Lady Westland?” She hoped neither would object.
“Of course.” Lady Westland’s expression had cooled as she turned her attention to Fiennes.
“Lady Westland, this my husband, Mr Damian Fiennes. Husband, this is Suzanne Godfrey, Lady Westland, and her son, Arthur, Lord Westland.” Elizabeth could almost feel the shift in her husband’s bearing.
