“No, my lady, I am afraid not.”
“But they left at least an hour before I did.” Concerned, she glanced at the longcase clock in the far corner of the foyer. “It’s going to be dark soon, and it isn’t like Weston to be late. I hope nothing has happened.”
“I can have a rider sent out to look for them.”
“Yes, please. As soon as possible.”
Mrs. Grimsby snapped her fingers and a maid stopped what she was doing and hurried over. There was a whispered exchange, and the maid rushed off in the direction of the stables.
“I am sure it’s nothing serious,” the housekeeper said soothingly. “They’ve probably stopped for a bite to eat, or to exchange horses.”
“Maybe,” Brynne said, but she was doubtful. Given Weston’s unfounded animosity directed at Evie, she did not think he’d do anything to purposefully delay their arrival. It was much more likely they’d gotten into some kind of contentious disagreement. Or they’d been set upon by highwaymen.
Given her plans for the couple, she almost hoped it was the latter. As long as they weren’t seriously injured, perhaps the time together would do them some good. Itwassaid that peril brought people together. And that’s precisely where she wanted Evie and Weston.
Together.
It wasn’t that Brynnedidn’tlike Lady Martha, who was due to join them tomorrow along with her mother, Lady Smethwick, and sister, Lady Anne. It was just that she didn’t particularlylikeher, either.
Similar to a fine tea, Lady Martha was pleasant to consume and easy to forget. There wasn’t anything wrong with her. Quite the contrary. She was everything a future countess should be: beautiful, polite, and soft spoken.
Weston would be bored silly before the first month was out. Which was what hethoughthe wanted. That was to say, a wife who would require all the emotional investment of a turnip. Someone he’d get on well enough with when they were together, and forget when they were not.
But Brynne knew better.
She knew what her brother really needed, even if he did not.
They were twins, after all.
And what Weston needed–even though he’d never admit it–was a wife who challenged him. Who provoked him. Who made him commit to love and marriage instead of just going through the motions.
As their father had done.
And his father before him.
And his father before him.
The siblings had never met their mother. She’d died on the day they were born. Which meant they’d never had the opportunity to see their parents interact. But they’d heard the way the Marquess of Dorchester spoke about his late wife. On the rare occasions he’d ever bothered to mention her at all, it had been with a certain apathy. The sort of respectful indifference one might assign to a favorite chair they no longer possessed.
Brynne didn’t want that for her brother.
Nor did she want it for herself.
Having suffered a broken heart not so very long ago, she was determined to avoid the entire matrimonial mess by remaining alone. A choice afforded her as a woman who was fortunate enough to be supported by an apathetic father and benevolent brother. But Weston, as the sole male heir to various titles and properties, including a dukedom,hadto find a bride. Which was why he’d summoned the Smethwicks to Hawkridge Manor.
Everyone knew it.
What they didn’t know–but Brynne did–was that Weston was choosing the wrong wife.
And she was determined to correct his mistake before it was too late.
“When my brotherdoesdeign to bless us with his presence, could you please tell him that I’d like a word?” she told Mrs. Grimsby. “There’s a matter of…seating I should like to discuss with him.”
“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper paused. “In consulting the guest list, I noticed there were some names missing from gatherings past. Should we be expecting Lord Farnsworth again?”
“No.” The train of Brynne’s traveling habit swished across the floor as she went to a circular table in the middle of the foyer. Usually, the table held a bust of her grandfather, the Duke of Caldwell. But in preparation for the house party, the bust had been replaced with a crystal vase overflowing with yellow roses and various glass bowls filled with sugary treats. Selecting a pair of silver tongs set out to the side, she helped herself to a handful of hard ginger candies. “Lord Farnsworth has sent his regards, but he is on holiday until the end of the month. India, I believe.”
“A lovely place, so I am told. What about Lady Hilcox? Will she be joining us?”
