Winnie bit intoher scone and took a slow sip of tea. The daylight beyond the mullioned windows had begun its gentle descent intoevening, gilding the garden hedges in a warm amber glow. It had been a splendid day, unmarred by clouds or worry. Her morning ride on Masquerade had left her breathless with joy—his hooves sure beneath her, his energy tempered yet proud. There was a soothing rhythm to life again, a comforting routine that had settled over Wiltshire House since their return from London.
Charles had returned to Bethnal Green several days ago, sending word that he’d traveled in the company of Lord Capel and Lord du Priest. He hadn’t explained how that had come about, and while she was certainly curious, Winnie had not dared ask. Had Lex run into Charles by chance? Or had he come looking for her?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet entrance of the butler. He crossed the parlor with a silver tray bearing a sealed envelope.
“Your ladyship,” Gerald said with a bow, “this has just arrived for you and Lady Edwina.”
Felicia took the envelope and laid it delicately in her lap. “Thank you, Gerald.”
With another bow, he departed.
Felicia studied the envelope, turning it between gloved fingers. “Well. Someone’s gone to a great deal of trouble. Thick vellum, heavy wax, and a rather impressive seal.” She held it up toward the candlelight. “Not one I recognize.”
Winnie leaned in, brows drawn. “It looks like the du Priest crest.”
Felicia retrieved her tortoiseshell spectacles from their shagreen case and perched them on the bridge of her nose. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. “Indeed. We are invited, in a fortnight, to a house party at Du Priest Manor. There will be various entertainments. And a foxhunt.”
Winnie froze.
Felicia glanced up, her expression neutral but observant. “Did you not mention this marquess as a friend of your earl?”
“He is notmyearl,” Winnie said, perhaps too sharply.
“No?” Felicia’s eyes twinkled. “I believe he was almost yours. Until you disappeared like Cinderella at midnight.”
Winnie gave a tight smile and stirred her tea unnecessarily.
“In any case,” her grandmother went on, “Charles is also invited. And I find I am rather intrigued by this man with the eyes the color of a summer sky…”
Heat flooded Winnie’s cheeks. There was no point in arguing. Her grandmother would attend with or without her, and truthfully, part of her wanted—needed—to see Lex again. To explain. To apologize. To…
Dare she tell him about being the Lace Bandit? Her instincts told her she could trust him, but did she have the strength to deal with his rejection after she told him?
You ninny, you were the one who left London without a word to Lex, and now you are worried about him rejecting you?
God, what was she going to do?
She’d never considered herself a coward, yet her departure from London had been hasty, impulsive, and, in retrospect, craven. She had fled not only from Lex but from the depth of her own feelings. The earl had unsettled her in a way no man ever had. At night, his memory invaded her thoughts. The feel of his touch, the warmth of his breath against her skin—it haunted her. In the stillness of her bed, she longed for him with an ache that felt carved from her very bones.
Felicia reached out and patted her hand. “I’m glad you’re not protesting this invitation. I do so enjoy when we see things eye to eye.”
Winnie smiled softly, but Felicia’s expression shifted, turning tender with emotion.
“I know I can be sharp-tongued and stubborn,” Felicia said, her voice thickening, “but everything I do, I do for you. After losing my darling son, your mother, and dear Bennet… Well, it nearly broke me. If not for you, Edwina, and my desire to see you safe, happy, and well loved, I might have given up entirely.”
Winnie’s throat closed. She set her teacup down and leanedforward, wrapping her arms around the older woman in a warm, fierce embrace.
“Please don’t ever say such a thing again,” she whispered. “You are my rock. My shield. My home. And I love you. Even when I’m difficult—and I know I often am—I only want to make you proud.”
Felicia sniffled, holding her tightly. “You already have, my dear girl. You are brave, and brilliant, and maddening at times, yes—but you are everything good that this family still has. And you carry all our lost ones with you, whether you realize it or not.”
They sat together in silence for a long moment, bound by love and shared loss.
Winnie leaned back slowly, blinking away her own tears. She had grieved deeply when her parents and brother died. But until this moment, she hadn’t trulyseenher grandmother’s grief. The quiet weight of it. How hard it must have been for Felicia to know that she would outlive her son and grandson. The strength it had taken for her to carry such a burden…
It struck Winnie like a bell tolling in her chest that perhaps it was time—past time—to stop hiding from her future. To begin shaping it instead.
Whatever the next few weeks held, one thing was clear—she could not remain in this uncertain limbo. She owed her family more than grief. She owed them a legacy—and herself a chance at happiness.
