Derriford: Confirmed Bachelors Book 5 by Jenny Hambly

Author:Jenny Hambly [Hambly, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-09-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Mary looked up from the cushion cover she was sewing.

“Phoebe, please stop pacing the floor. It is very distracting.”

“I wished to go riding with James,” she said, dropping onto a nearby sofa in a most unladylike manner. “And it would have served Lord Winterbourne right if I had gone out. If he wanted to see me, he should have stated a time. I expect he thought I had nothing better to do than sit around waiting for him.”

Footsteps sounded outside the room.

Mary calmly folded her sewing and returned it to her work basket. “It appears your wait is over.”

“Do not leave us for an instant,” Phoebe hissed.

It was not Lord Winterbourne who was shown into the room, however. The butler announced Miss Skillet and Miss Helena Skillet.

“Good afternoon,” Miss Skillet said. “We are on our way to do some shopping in Yeovil and thought we would see if there is anything we could do for you there.”

“Or if you wanted to come,” Helena added.

“There is nothing I would like more,” Phoebe said. “But we are expecting Lord Winterbourne.”

This was uttered in a voice of deep gloom. Mary glanced at the butler and requested him to bring some lemonade and ratafia.

Helena laughed and, without awaiting an invitation, sat next to Phoebe. “Poor you. I had quite forgotten. Why do you not pretend that you had also and come with us anyway?”

Phoebe sighed. “I am sorely tempted to do so but know I ought not.”

“I do not see why you must not. I would not hesitate to forgo one plan if a better one was offered.”

“Helena,” Miss Skillet said, “Miss Phoebe is quite correct in her stance, and your admission does you no credit.”

She wrinkled her little nose. “Oh, pooh.”

“Please, sit with me, Miss Skillet,” Mary said.

“Thank you. Must we remain so formal? Will you not call me Agatha?”

“Certainly, and you must call me Mary.”

As the younger ladies began to talk in hushed tones, Miss Skillet spoke in a low voice.

“I am sorry if we intrude. I beg you to believe I had forgotten about Lord Winterbourne’s visit.”

Mary smiled. “Of course, I believe you. And I beg you will not run away.”

“You are very kind, as always.” Her eyes fell on Mary’s sewing basket, and she plucked the cushion cover from it. “How neat your stitches are. I can never achieve anything half so tidy.” She sighed. “My hands are so large, the only womanly virtue they are useful for is playing the pianoforte. Is it for…?”

“Yes. It is to match the new coverings on the chairs in Lord Derriford’s drawing room.”

Miss Skillet’s eyes dropped, and a pulse of colour beat in her cheek. “I hope you have forgiven the hasty words I uttered at the Endsley’s party.”

“I cannot imagine to what you refer,” Mary said gently.

The eyes that swiftly rose to hers held a keen look of gratitude. “I know, of course, that you are not trying to entrap Lord Derriford. I had meant to tell you yesterday, but there was no opportunity to be private.

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