Hart arched his brow. “That’s not funny.”
“I thought it was.” Lucy took another sip of tea.
Hart leaned forward in his seat, hoping the chairwouldn’t crack from his weight. “You have no idea where she is?” His voice dripped skepticism.
Lucy lifted her teacup to her lips again, her pinkie finger pointed skyward. “If she’s not at your house, I’d guess she’s with Sarah.”
Hart growled under his breath. “She’s not at Sarah’s. I came from there earlier.”
Lucy regarded him seriously for a moment. “Did Sarah tell you she doesn’t know where she is?”
Hart frowned. “No.”
Another sip of tea. “Where’s Sarah then?”
Hart was quickly coming to understand that Lucy didn’t have any idea where Meg was. He’d made a mistake coming here. This was a waste of time. “I don’t know. I didn’t see her this morning before I left. The servants said she’d gone out.”
“So Meg is missing and Sarah’s not home?” Lucy asked.
“Yes.” He clenched his jaw.
“Hmm.” Lucy smoothed a finger over a dark brow. “I’d say find Sarah and you’ll find Meg.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Meg had been in Northumbria for three weeks. Three long weeks in which she’d had no communication with her husband. No communication with anyone except Sarah and Mrs. Hamilton, and the dear staff at Berkeley Hall, which was a perfectly lovely place. She’d spent her days riding horses, going for walks, and picking flowers in the meadows. Her journal was full of the details of the past several weeks, but she was no closer to understanding her husband or having a plan about dealing with him than she had been when she came.
She’d spent her nights tossing and turning, tortured by the thought of Hart and Lady Maria tangled in each other’s arms in London. Had he invited the woman to their house? Were they spending their nights in naked ecstasy in the same bed he’d refused to take her to? It made Meg’s stomach roil. Hart had slept on Sarah’s settee that night Meg had found him with Lady Maria, but that didn’t mean he’d remained celibate since. PerhapsMeg had made a horrible mistake coming here. Still, she refused to crawl back to London and watch him and his lover together. That would be worse than being here and not knowing.
“I expect we’ll have a visitor today, Meg,” Sarah said over breakfast on the twenty-second day they’d been in Northumbria.
“A visitor?” Meg blinked. Her heart lurched. Surely Sarah hadn’t invited Hart here.
“It’s Christian,” Sarah said, reaching for the pot of honey.
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Sarah wouldn’t have invited Hart. Not without warning her first.
“Christian?” Meg took a sip of juice. She didn’t want to admit she’d been disappointed when she realized their visitor wasn’t Hart.
“Yes,” Sarah continued. “I’ve written to Christian and told him that you refuse to return to London. He’s been closely monitoring Hart’s behavior, by the by.”
Meg briefly closed her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Sarah slathered honey on a piece of toast with a knife. “I know you don’t, but you must. You cannot hide up here forever. Besides, we’re missing all the best gossip. Christian told me Lady Eugenia and Sir Winford have become betrothed.”
“No!” Meg breathed, a small smile popping to her lips. She was happy for Sir Winford. He deserved to find love.
“Yes,” Sarah continued. “I was in agreement with you that you needed time, but it’s been nearly a month and neither you nor Hart appears willing to be the first toattempt to reconcile. You must be in the same room with each other if you’re to work this out.”
Meg took a bite of eggs. “Who says we need to work this out?”
“Intend to live here forever, do you?” Sarah smiled at her and took a bite of honey-covered toast.
Meg pressed her lips together. She had to concede. Her friend did have a point. “Very well, what has my husband been doing in London without me? Drinking to excess and visiting Maria Tempest’s bed, I expect.”
Sarah smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “I’ll let Christian tell you when he arrives, which should be any moment now.”
The butler announced Lord Berkeley’s arrival precisely a quarter hour later. Meg held her breath while the viscount made his way into the breakfast room. The servants hurried to place a plate full of food in front of him. He’d been traveling all night. No doubt he was exhausted.
