Nate blinked. He’d known Lord Luxton was elderly, but this man looked to be ninety years old, and Helen was no more than three-and-twenty. Had Helen abandoned him for a man old enough to be her great-grandfather? And if so, why? Certainly not for love. So, it had to be for money. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
“Bring his lordship to the water.” She bent to kiss her husband on the forehead and then strolled down the bank toward them.
“Now,” she said, looking around at the other guests. “Whom am I to row with?”
“Well, I—” Nate frowned, finding he was at a loss for words.
“You shall go with Mr. Squires,” Bridget said. “I have my spyglass.” She waved the gadget in her hand. “I will monitor the race from the shore.”
Nate’s body tensed. Bridget was not to blame—she did not know his history with Helen—but he certainly would not be climbing into a rowboat with her.
“Excellent idea,” Lady Luxton said. “Shall we begin?”
“Not so fast,” Nate said. “Hand me the spyglass, Miss De Lacey. You will need to return to the villa and sort out Lord and Lady Luxton’s rooms. I will monitor the race.”
Bridget’s smile faded, and Nate silently cursed himself. His discomfort with the situation had caused him to speak to her like an underling.
“Yes, of course, sir,” she said tightly and handed him the spyglass. “Will Lord Luxton require a room downstairs?”
“No, that’s quite all right,” Lady Luxton said. “His manservant will carry him up and down the stairs as needed.”
Bridget nodded and then, without so much as a glance at Nate, walked away. Nate’s heart sank as he watched her go.
“Well then,” Frederick rubbed his hands together, “it appears that Lady Luxton will be accompanying me today.” He stepped away from Abigail, whose smile faded.
“Are you certain Madam Bouffant won’t be coming?” Nate said.
Frederick shrugged. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“And where is Papa?” Adelia said. “Who is to row Mama today?”
“I say. Isn’t that Lord Eamont and Madam Bouffant over there?” Dodsworth pointed at two figures strolling together in the distance.
A momentary silence fell over the group. There was something about how the two walked together—a closeness that suggested a familiarity of some sort.
Frederick clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Well then, Lady Eamont, it looks like you are the odd lady out. Perhaps you’d like to row with one of your daughters?” Frederick looked from Lady Eamont to Lady Luxton. “Allow me to escort you both to the boats. He held out his arms, indicating that each should take one. Shall we go then, ladies?”
Lady Eamont ignored him and focused her attention on the disappearing figures of Lord Eamont and Madam Bouffant, her eyes narrow and her lips curled downward into an angry frown.
Nate squinted against the sun as he tried to keep track of the two. What on earth was Frederick’s mistress doing with Lord Eamont? And why didn’t Frederick seem to care?
Chapter Ten
The next morning,Bridget had just finished coiling her hair and pinning it into a loose bun when Eliza entered her room.
“Have you finished with Aunt Marianne and Madam Bouffant already?”
“Your aunt will take breakfast in her room.”
“Is she ill?”
“She’s tired of the guests and wants the privacy of her room, where she can mourn her poor brother in peace.”
Bridget sighed. Poor Aunt Marianne had had a trying few days. Lady Darby and Lady Eamont had been exceedingly rude the first day they’d met her. Despite Nate’s reassurances that he did not consider them a burden, the ladies of the ton kept treating them as such, and she worried that their behavior had left her aunt deflated. It angered Bridget. Aunt Marianne had been so keen and reenergized upon taking charge of the new household staff, but she, like Bridget, hadn’t imagined that the guests would look down on them and treat them like servants as well. This new life was going to take some getting used to.
“And what of Madam Bouffant?” Bridget glanced at Eliza in the mirror.
“Why do you call her that? You don’t need to pretend with me. We both know who an’ what she is.”
