“Whose red flowers are those in the hall? They’re beautiful. When I’m big I’m going to have lots of flowers too,” Celia said with all the confidence of a six-year-old.
“Flowers?” Maeve took a scone, slathered it with raspberry jam, then poured out some clotted cream.
Celia spread her arms wide. “This big.”
Lorelei held up the pot to refill Maeve’s cup. “They’re for you. From Oxford. It appears he enjoyed his visit yesterday.”
Maeve’s jaw fell. “But we only talked. And… and Harlowe was there the entire time. Why would Oxford sendmeflowers?” she sputtered.
“If you have to ask…” Ginny said. “Tea, please.”
Lorelei poured out more cups and passed them around. She leaned in. “Harlowe went for a walk last night,” she said.
“He didwhat?” Maeve was furious at the notion.
Lorelei doctored her own scone. “He must have gone just after we parted ways last night.”
Suddenly, Maeve knew exactly when he’d left.
“Kimpton heard him and Rory return. I was incensed, of course. He could have been set upon by cutthroats. I vow my brother has no care for his health.”
“This is Mayfair, Lorelei, not the docks,” Ginny pointed out.
Frustration cascaded from Lorelei. “Still, he is much too ill to be traipsing about in the night air.”
Maeve silently agreed and had every intention of letting him know exactly that. She remained silent, fuming inside and out. She’d been installed to see to Harlowe’s care for his health. Nothing else. Not that therewasan else. It wasn’t as if he’d kissed her. Or wanted to kiss her. The one time he had, he’d been delirious and out of his head. It didnothurt her feelings that for an instant he’d made her believe she was the most desirable woman in Mayfair. Why should it? Of course she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in Mayfair, or London for that matter. At four and twenty she was practically in her dotage.
Ugh. Harlowe had been too much on her mind of late.
Still, the scoundrel was underhercare, and she had some say in the matter. She finished her tea then rose from the table, leaving her half-eaten scone. “I shall return in a moment. I’ve forgotten my reticule.”
Lorelei and Ginny nodded.
“Celia dear, only one biscuit at a time,” Irene said.
“Irene dear, you are forgetting, once again thatIam Celia’s mother…” Ginny said upon Maeve’s departure.
“That’s strange,” Celia said.
Ginny lifted her cup to her lips. “What is that, dear?”
“Lady Alymer must have forgotten. Her reticule is right here.”
Twelve
T
hat man had a lot of nerve putting Maeve’s care for him at risk. She hurried up the one flight and stalked to Lord High-and-Mighty’s bedchamber, crashed through the door without bothering to knock. “Lord Harlowe, what the devil do you think you are about—”
From his reclined position in the copper tub, Harlowe lifted one brow. “Good morning—Maeve.” He drew her name out into one long husky syllable. “Care to scrub my back?”
Gasping, she stomped across the room prepared to shut out the cold breeze, only to stop short and hang her fire-branded face outside. She gulped at the cool air. She eased back inside but didn’t turn around, leaving the window ajar. “Are you trying to catch your death? I think it might even snow today.” Still she didn’t turn back to him. Lord knows what she would have seen. “What do you mean by walking all over London in the wee hours. That is the coldest part of the day.”
“I thought you had a drive with Dorset scheduled.”
“I do. At four. I’m going shopping with Lorelei and Ginny this morning. Then the park with the children.”
“Yes, and then a meeting with Kimpton on securing new lodgings.”
