“Tell him we regret missing him, and kindly pass this along.” Selina handed Fillmore a folded missive. “It is an invitation to tea.”
Mia sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected the invitation. Uncle Ludlow would not be happy. He expected to do the inviting.
Fillmore gestured to the door, but Selina dragged her feet, studying what she could see as if cataloging the assets. Mia bit her cheek to keep from hurrying her in front of the overbearing butler. They were almost there when another gentleman, walking across the hall between two rooms, gazed toward them and paused.
Mia’s mysterious stranger seemed to recognize her. He approached them as Fillmore impatiently opened the door. Mia held her breath. On foot, he appeared less ferocious. His body tilted to one side, and he walked with a swaying gait that was not quite a limp. He radiated confidence nonetheless.
Who is this man?
“We have guests, Fillmore?” he asked. It sounded more like a demand.
“These ladies called on Mr. Tavernash,” Fillmore said with clipped tones.
“As nearest neighbors, we thought to welcome him. You…” Selina’s voice faded away under the force of his frown.
The stranger glanced at Mia and then Fillmore. “Neighbors?”
“The Honorable Selina Selwyn is the daughter of Viscount Clavering,” Fillmore said, his tight jaw making the words sound as if he forced them out. He glared at Selina.
Mia noticed a flicker of recognition at Uncle Ludlow’s name. This man wasn’t an utter stranger to this place.
“Kindly introduce us, Fillmore,” he said. There was no mistaking the command in his voice this time.
The butler scowled in disapproval but complied. “Miss Selwyn, may I present Mr. Gideon Kendrick.” He didn’t add anything to explain the man’s presence at Woodglen or his air of authority.
Kendrick peered pointedly at Mia.
“And her…companion,” Fillmore finished.
“My cousin, Miss Euphemia Selwyn,” Selina clarified.
Kendrick studied Mia so intently she had to fight not to squirm. “I’m honored, ladies,” he said with a slight inclination of his head.
For a moment, Mia thought he would say more, feared he’d allude to their previous encounter in front of the butler and Selina, but he did not.
Soon enough they were out the door and on their way back down the long drive. Selina sighed dramatically. “Thank goodness that man is not the heir. Isn’t he horrid?”
Mia didn’t think so. Not in the slightest. His posture may be odd, but she found his air of authority and his intense dark eyes compelling.
Selina ignored her. “I know who he is. Did you guess?” she asked smugly.
Mia blinked. She had no idea what her cousin babbled about.
“He’s the brother, the half-wit cripple. Do you think he’s come to cause trouble for poor Mr. Tavernash?”
Chapter Four
Aday later,Mia held Sally Anders’s baby in her arms and let the luxury of the warm little body and trusting eyes soothe her soul. She’d come with a food basket after Selwyn Court’s cook alerted her to the family’s need. Sally lived in a sad excuse for a cottage at the border between Woodglen and Selwyn Court, one allotted her out of charity after her husband had slipped, fallen on a scythe during harvest, and died.
“You tell Lord Clavering we’re that grateful,” Erma, Sally’s mother-in-law, said, her words a refrain for the sound of her rickety rocker. A tiny boy, perhaps two years old, sat at the old woman’s feet, playing with a block of wood, his eyes straying frequently to the basket Mia had brought.
Sally herself sat, as she had during the entire visit, silently staring at her hands folded in her lap. The horror of her husband’s death never left her, and the burden of two children and an old woman to feed with no man to work for them crushed her. Uncle Ludlow’s only concession had been use of this place free of charge after he asked them to vacate their previous house for a paying—that was, working—tenant. He didn’t object to Mia’s visits nor to her bringing mending to the two women so she could also pass on a few coins. Neither did he bestir himself to do more.
Mia wondered if Sally’s family would have fared better as Woodglen tenants. She had no idea. The absent duke might have been even less help, and they’d be at the mercy of Curtis Marshall.
The sounds of horses brought Sally alert, fear stark in her eyes as she stared at the door. Hector, who had been left outside, barked at the arrivals, no doubt making it worse. Sally darted glances around the room and sank back into her stupor. Mia suspected whoever had brought her husband home—or news of his accident, at least—had come on horseback. The sound forced her to relive that moment.
Mia handed the baby to Erma. “I’ll see to the disturbance.”
