The Art of Victory (The Donovans Book 1) by Martha Keyes

Author:Martha Keyes [Keyes, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

I stayed away from the library after dinner, remaining in the drawing room and retiring at the same time as Lucy and Mrs. Westwood to avoid any chance that Mr. Russell might catch me in the corridor.

Do not linger in dangerously isolated positions. I meant to heed that advice from Sun Tzu without exception from now on. It was a tricky thing, though, evading one’s own houseguest—not that I had invited him, of course, but I had provoked him into gaining an invitation, and that was almost the same thing.

When the next day dawned without any sign of Mr. Pike, I began to feel uneasy. Had I been wrong to inform him that Mr. Russell would require them to wait two years to marry? Had the prospect been too much for him? I was a wretch if that was the case, for I had done nothing but encourage Lucy in her affections for Mr. Pike.

But there was no use fretting over such things until we could know something for certain. In the meantime, I sent one of the maids with a basket to take to the Pikes, hoping she might return with more information.

Perhaps wishing to avoid Mrs. Westwood, Lucy spent the morning reading in her bedchamber. I made an attempt to coax her from it with the promise of a ride on my mare, but she declined, insisting she didn’t wish to be gone when Mr. Pike returned. I gave up and decided to go for a ride myself.

On my way to dress for such an activity, I encountered Valentine in the corridor by his bedchamber. He looked at me warily.

“Don’t even think of speaking to me,” he said. “Much as I like Russell, I am not spending an entire day hunting sparrows again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you,” I said. “I value my life more than to make such an attempt. I am going out for a ride myself.” I could simultaneously make myself absent, clear my head, and come up with a few ideas—all worthy goals. Well, perhaps not worthy ones, but goals, all the same.

“Taking Reeve with you?” Valentine asked.

“Ha! Don’t play the propriety card with me, Val. It suits you ill. Besides, I haven’t taken a footman riding with me for years.”

“Haven’t taken one, or couldn’t persuade one to go with you?” he quipped.

I didn’t dignify his question with an answer, merely sending him an unamused glance and leaving him in the corridor to go dress in my room.

I had never before needed a private ride more than I did now.

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