*
“You seem distracted,”Lord Dorchester,” Lady Ashton observed. “Perhaps you are not a devotee of gardens.”
“Oh, Mama. Few men are I imagine,” Miss Ashton said crossly. “Shall we go in?”
“I confess to a scarce knowledge of flowers,” he said with a warm smile of apology for his disinterest. “Ask me aboutbreeding sheep or horses, or cultivating land, and I’ll keep you engaged for hours.”
“I doubt that very much,” Lady Ashton said with a wry smile.
As he escorted them into the house for afternoon tea, Hugh tried to ignore his eager response to seeing Miss Kershaw. It was downright foolish, especially with Miss Ashton standing beside him, but something he seemed to have little control over. And there was something about Rattray that gave him cause for concern, but that was none of his business. Hugh sighed inwardly as he settled the ladies at a table. He should not have been thinking of Miss Kershaw when his betrothed required his attention.
The next morning, Miss Ashton and her mother set out for home, and Hugh, with a promise to call in to see them at their neighboring property, left London the following day. His gelding, Chance, needed exercise, and he had some overdue estate matters awaiting him. Hugh also wanted to reassure himself that his mother had recovered well after her jaunt to Bath. Would he find Sarah in good spirits? Or was it too much to hope that Lord Cardew, her inexcusably casual beau, had come up to scratch?
He wanted to persuade Sarah to come and stay with him in Mayfair for a few weeks. Perhaps when facing some stiff competition, which he was sure would result when his comely sister appeared in London, Cardew might decide he wanted her for his wife, or better still, he might lose his hold over her. Although he was not Hugh’s favorite choice for her, he would welcome their marriage if the man made her happy. He didn’t want Sarah to be hurt, and he would be more than willing to teach him a lesson should he misbehave.
Driving his team along the tree-lined avenue toward Woodcroft, his gray stone manor house, he went over the previous day in his mind. Miss Ashton had seemed more light-hearted, but neither she nor her mother had given any indication of when, or if, they would return to London to see out the rest of the Season. Despite coming to London, he and Miss Ashton still hadn’t formally announced their betrothal or set a wedding date. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A little guilty, perhaps. But if he’d been a keener prospective bridegroom, would Miss Ashton have been different? He had tried, but some emotions couldn’t be faked, especially when Miss Ashton’s response was so lackluster.
Was Miss Lucy Kershaw beginning to enjoy London? Hard to tell from her small smile as she’d curtsied to him. He hoped the fuss arising from the mistaken belief in her father’s prospects had died down. Some gossip was like the influenza and moved with speed through society, while some slowly filtered through. He hoped any such talk would have been dismissed before then without any new gossip to feed it. Although perhaps not among those angling for a wealthy bride. Hugh wished her well. In different circumstances, he would have taken great pleasure in rescuing her and improving their acquaintance. He recalled all too well how perfectly she’d fit into his arms on the dance floor. Small and slender, she gave the impression of delicacy, but she fought fiercely where she found injustice. The thought crept into his mind that she would be a passionate lover.
Enough of that! He urged the horses on after they’d passed through the gates to Woodcroft, and there on the far hill was the massive roof of his home above the towering, ancient trees of the park, chimneys sending curling, gray smoke above the treetops. It was always a welcome sight, with the sun setting in the west, painting the sky a myriad of colors, from aqua to purple and rose pink. He drove the curricle to the stables and left the groom to see to the horses.
Sarah awaited him at the front door with a welcoming smile. “I’m so glad to see you. We can play chess tonight. I have been utterly bored since we returned from Bath.”
“Yes, I have had a pleasant journey, thank you.” Hugh chucked her under the chin.
“Oh, I am horribly selfish,” she admitted with a sad lack of remorse.
“I gather you haven’t heard from Lord Cardew?”
“No.” She bit her lip, pain in her blue eyes. “His mother holds him by the apron strings.”
Hugh clamped down on his jaw. “Then can he be the right man for you?” He bristled at how badly Cardew had treated her. He wasn’t good enough for Sarah, but to make too much of it would only send her into Cardew’s arms.
“Oh…” She put the back of a hand to her forehead. “But I do care for him so very much.”
“You are entirely too dramatic for your own good. Where is Mama?”
“She is resting.”
Hugh handed his hat, coat, and gloves to a footman. “I’ll change and go to her.”
His mother looked pale but sat up eagerly in bed when he entered. “Darling! You must tell me all your news,” she said, tidying the white, lace cap over her gray-brown locks with her fingers.
“I have nothing of much interest to relate.” He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her cheek, breathing in her familiar violet scent.
“Oh.” She looked crestfallen. “Then Miss Ashton…?”
“Nothing confirmed in that direction.”
She gasped. “Why ever not? Don’t they know you’re the catch of the Season?”
“Are you biased?” Hugh asked with a laugh.
“Nonsense. Of course I’m not,” she said affectionately. She eyed him carefully, reaching out to smooth the lapel of his coat. “What will you do?”
“I don’t like to force matters, but I’ll ride over and see her tomorrow.” He stood. “Will you come down to dinner?”
“Of course. It isn’t often we share a meal of late.”
