CHAPTER TWENTY
Eversleigh House—London
Later that day…
Lady Eversleigh peeled off her gloves and handed the rest of her outerwear to Winston, while Lyra did the same. Lavinia’s mouth pinched as she regarded her solemn daughter—the young widow. Fortunately, the private, but well-tended service for Roger Coventry, Lord Weston, at his estate in Surrey went off better than she’d expected. His family, while reserved and haughty in manner, didn’t come outright and accuse Lyra of anything untoward, so perhaps this whole scandal that Lyra was involved in her husband’s death might blow over after all.
“I’m going to ring for some tea,” Lavinia announced. Concerned about Lyra’s pale face, she added, “But perhaps you might wish for some sherry. We need to get some color back into your cheeks.”
“Whatever you think.”
As they settled down in the front parlor, they waited for their refreshments to be served. When a maid appeared moments later with their tray, Lady Eversleigh inquired, “Has my son returned?”
“No, my lady,” the girl said politely.
Lavinia frowned. “Not at all?”
The servant shook her head, then after pouring their drinks, she quietly let herself out of the room.
“How very peculiar,” Lavinia noted. With a glance at Lyra, she asked, “I don’t suppose you know what might have happened to your elusive sibling? Or perhaps Miss Miller?”
Lyra merely sipped her wine. “I’m sure I have no idea. I’m not my brother’s keeper.”
Lady Everleigh noted that she didn’t contradict her about Mara. She narrowed her eyes. “If there’s something I need to know—”
“There isn’t.” Lyra sat down her cup with a clang. “Besides, don’t you think you’ve done enough damage, Mother?”
Lavinia’s mouth dropped open. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Anything I have ever done has been to protect our good name! A solid reputation is all anyone in London truly has.”
“You’ve told me that all of my life, but it wasn’t until recently, when Roarke and Mara reunited, that I finally realized there is so much more to life than having the right gown or social circle. Sometimes the right path has nothing to do with propriety at all.” Lyra’s dark eyes were fervent when she added, “Are you truly the only one who doesn’t see how happy Roarke is when he’s with Mara? They loveeach other! Don’t you think it’s time to tell him the truth and allow them a chance—”
“No, I do not!” Lavinia snapped. She set aside her tea with a trembling hand, and attempted to beseech her daughter, to make her see reason. “If he finds out what happened all those years ago with his father, he will march right back to India without a backward glance! I finally have my son returned to me, and I intend for him to take his rightful place in England, to accept the birthright that has always been his. He has a seat in the House of Lords. He could be a very powerful man with influence—”
“You know he doesn’t care about any of that,” Lyra interrupted. “The only thing that truly matters to him has been Mara. It’s always been her. If you would just allow things to take their natural course, the rest will fall into place.”
“But Lily is a mad murderess!” Lavinia nearly screeched. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand to gain further control of her emotions. In a calmer tone, she said, “I can’t allow someone of that caliber to be a part of our bloodline, to taint generations of Garrott ancestors in such a manner. You say that Roarke should be given a chance with Mara, but you seem to forget she also agreed to let him go.”
“Becauseyousuggested it,” Lyra returned with a sigh. “This same argument grows tiresome.”
Lavinia straightened. “Then leave it alone. It was all for the best.”
Her daughter snorted. “Was it, Mother?” With a wave of her hand, she said, “Look around you. The only thing I see is a sad, lonely woman who desires the approval of everyone else, except her own flesh and blood.” Lyra stood, then added, “If you’ll pardon me, I should be going before I say something I can’t take back.”
Lavinia watched her daughter stalk out of the room, the silence she left behind almost deafening.
* * *
James watched his plans begin to unfold from the unmarked carriage down the street from Eversleigh House.
“It won’t be long now.” He sat back with a nasty smile. “When all is said and done, it might have been worth it to come to this despicable corner of the world with its cold, damp climate.”
His companion, Captain Greeves, didn’t say anything, but James wasn’t surprised. These days his cohort had little to say after the brutal caning he’d given him some months ago that left him a cripple. He certainly couldn’t manage a ship and crew any longer, but after that incident on theFerrymanthat caused James to lose a valuable slave for his plantation, he couldn’t have cared less.
After so many blows to his wealth, at long last, everything was coming together.
Granted, it had been a bit of a deterrent to sail all the way to Lincolnshire along the North Sea to the small fishing port of Boston, but James had decided it was too much of a risk to cross the English Channel from Calais to Dover for fear of discovery. He’d felt the prickly sensation of being watched more than once, and he wasn’t going to take any chances of being thrown into gaol when retribution was so close at hand.
Of course, after that chance meeting at an inn on the road from Leicester, his spirits had greatly improved.
