“Several weeks,” Jane said. “According to Lord Howe, she left a note. She traveled to Ireland with Mr. Connor.”
Lucy glanced sympathetically at her aunt. It appeared impossible to avoid a scandal.
“That heathenish country,” Aunt Mary wailed. “Why on Earth would they go there?”
“Mr. Aidan Connor is Irish,” Jane explained. “Lord Howe has made it clear he will not take her back.”
“I’ll never see my little girl again.” Aunt Mary sobbed, her voice muffled by the handkerchief. “What if something happens to her? How will I know?”
“Once she’s settled, she is sure to write.” Lucy recalled how unhappy Anabel had appeared. Didn’t Jane say that Howe had taken a mistress? Yet he would suffer no condemnation from his peers. How unfair life was to women.
“Miss Kershaw is right,” Mr. Rattray said soothingly, nodding his approval at Lucy. “Your daughter is sure to miss her mama.”
This seemed to make things worse for Aunt Mary, who burst into a fresh fit of sobbing. “And I won’t be with her!”
“Mama, please come upstairs and lie down,” Jane said. “I’ll tell Maisie to bring you some tea and put a warming pan in your bed.”
Unsteady, Aunt Mary stood, assisted by Mr. Rattray’s arm. “Yes, I will lie down. I am quite weak and giddy.”
Jane led her mother from the room.
Making no attempt to leave, Mr. Rattray remained with Lucy.
She moved quickly to the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Rattray, thank you for your kind attentions to my aunt. We are grateful for your discretion. I must go up and see if there’s anything I can do.”
He moved to open it for her, then stood too close as she passed through into the hall. “I think it would be wise for your aunt to leave London and spend a pleasant few days in the country. I shall mention it to her when she is calmer.”
As Mrs. Boyce, the housekeeper, was with her aunt, and young William, their man-of-all-work, nowhere to be seen, Lucy saw Mr. Rattray to the front door, just as Mr. Nash’s phaeton pulled up.
“I see you have a visitor,” Mr. Rattray said dourly. “Shall I send him away?”
She stiffened at his impudence. “No, thank you. I shall see the gentleman.”
Mr. Rattray donned his hat and walked away, as Mr. Nash, carrying a glove, joined her at the door. He glanced at Mr. Rattray’s retreating figure. “You dropped this, Miss Kershaw.”
“Oh, so I did. Thank you for returning it.” She had been in such haste to leave him that hadn’t noticed.
He hovered. “I wondered if you might have thought things over and had a change of heart?” He eyed the door behind her. “It was a little rushed. We might talk about it.”
“I see no point, Mr. Nash. My mind is made up. I cannot invite you to have tea. My aunt received distressing news. I should go up to her in case she needs me.”
He lifted his shoulders with a heavy sigh. “So that’s that, then.”
Lucy’s stomach churned. “I am sorry,” she repeated. “I really must go to her,” she said, a hand on the door latch.
“Very well. I’ll return in a few days and see how things are.” He donned his hat and bade her a reluctant goodbye.
Lucy forced a smile and waited until he’d taken up the reins and driven off. Then she slipped back inside and shut the door with palpable relief. She hoped he’d think twice about calling again.
Climbing the stairs, she wondered if Mr. Rattray meant to marry her aunt and carry her away to the country? If that were the case, Lucy would have to return to Bath. The thought of leaving brought Lord Dorchester to mind again. Had he returned safely from his trip? She hoped to hear from Sarah soon.
The next day, Aunt Mary remained in bed. She moaned in distress. It upset Lucy to see her aunt so troubled, but there was little she could do other than try to make her comfortable.
Lucy was halfway up the stairs to see if her aunt needed anything when horses’ hooves and the jingle of a carriage sounded on the road outside. She groaned. Was it Mr. Nashcalling again? When the knocker sounded, she paused, a hand on the banister, trying to think of a way to deter him. William appeared from the direction of the kitchen, busily chewing, and went to open the front door and admitted Lord Dorchester.
So relieved to see him, Lucy hurried down, suffering the overwhelming desire to throw herself into his arms. The way he looked at her made her catch her breath, sure he could read the effect he had on her in her eyes. “It is good to see you, Lord Dorchester.” She stepped down onto the hall floor. “Did you have a good journey, my lord?”
He handed his hat and gloves to William, then turned to observe her once more, searching her face. For what? Signs of poor sleep? She hadn’t slept well because of Mr. Rattray’s announcement, and there was Mr. Nash, who didn’t seem prepared to accept her refusal, to contend with. She was sure he didn’t love her. Was her rejection a blow to his vanity?
