Remember Love by Mary Balogh

Author:Mary Balogh [Balogh, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Gwyneth had been feeling irritated. Which was a bit of an understatement, for there was more than one cause of her bad mood.

For one, she had not been looking forward to tomorrow and the tea to which they had all been invited at Ravenswood Hall—even Aled. An invitation had been delivered for him just this morning to prove how quickly news traveled. Normally a social event might have been a welcome break from the monotony that often threatened life in the country, and these days events at the hall were rare. But the formal invitations that had been sent out had stated quite clearly that the tea was in honor of the return to Ravenswood of the Earl of Stratton. No mention of Devlin or home or the pleasure their company would give the countess. Even Gwyneth’s mother had remarked that there was something a bit chilling about the card.

Who knew what was to be expected? Opinion had always been divided, quite sharply in some instances, on that scene Devlin had created before leaving home. Some people claimed to have suspected that Mrs. Shaw was the old earl’s mistress and to have been uncomfortable and outraged on the countess’s behalf and that of her children. Those people tended to defend what Devlin had done. Others pointed out that his ill-considered outspokenness had hurt his mother and his sisters and young brother as much as they had chastised his father, perhaps more. Those people were of the opinion that good manners were sometimes of greater importance than the truth. Now a sizable number of both groups, as well as those, like Gwyneth’s parents, who refrained from giving any opinion or passing any judgment, were to gather at Ravenswood to face the very man who had hurt his family and divided the neighborhood.

Gwyneth did not want to be one of them. It was a farce, what the countess was doing. And how would he react? She did not want to know. She did not want to see him. Her connection to him was history, and she would have preferred to leave it that way. But . . . good manners dictated that she go. And since this morning she did not even have the excuse that she ought to remain at home to keep Aled company. He was delighted to have been invited.

“I will be pleased to be your escort, Gwyneth,” he had said, even though Mam and Dad and Idris would be going too, and they had always been escort enough for her—if she needed an escort at all.

She had been feeling depressed about that, then, even before coming to the church this morning—Aled had persuaded her to come, against her better judgment. She had allowed herself to be flattered by his attentions. Foolish her! For one hour passed inside the church and then two, and a third was in progress. And she understood what of course she had already known—that for Aled music was his life and his soul. Everything else was secondary.

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