The Love and Temptation Series by M.C. Beaton & Marion Chesney

The Love and Temptation Series by M.C. Beaton & Marion Chesney

Author:M.C. Beaton & Marion Chesney [Beaton, M.C.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781647346935
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2020-05-05T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter 6

Lucy Godwin paced nervously up and down Mary’s drawing room, the sarcanet flounces of her gown swishing over the carpet.

“I declare, Mary,” said Lucy coming to a halt. “It is too vexing of you. Too monstrous thoughtless. Why did you not send the Witherspoons a card to your rout?”

“It is an informal, impromptu party, Lucy,” said Mary gently. “They really only like grand affairs. I am obliged to them for their kind offices in Brussels but, in all faith, I cannot like them.”

“Like them?” sneered Lucy awfully. “When did one ever have to like people to invite them? I tell you this, if you do not invite them, they will tell the world and his wife that I abandoned poor Freddie on the battlefield.”

“You imagine things. Surely they would not say so.”

“Oh, yes they would,” cried Lucy pettishly. “I shall be socially ruined and it’s all your fault. You p-promised Freddie you’d take care of me.”

“Only in his absence.”

Lucy burst into noisy tears. “I think you’re horrid,” she sobbed.

“Very well then,” said Mary on a sigh. She was so happy she could not bear to see anyone else unhappy. “I shall send them a card. But will they not be insulted? The party is this very evening after all.”

“Oh, no,” said Lucy cynically, her tears drying like magic, “so long as they are invited.”

She slid a curious look at Mary’s radiant face, out of the corner of her eyes. “I declare I am surprised you should condone the presence of Lady Clarissa and her fiancé, Lord Peregrine.”

“You must be mistaken,” said Mary coldly. “I sent no invitation.”

“Really,” said Lucy with a little titter. “I would ask dear Lord Hubert about it. Good-bye, dear.”

She kissed the air somewhere in the region of Mary’s cheek and floated out.

Mary went in search of her husband. He was sitting in his study brooding over a glass of madeira and nursing a blinding headache. That morning, while Mary lay asleep, recuperating after another energetic night, he found himself strangely restless. He had gone out riding and had come across an old friend he had thought dead on the battlefield of Waterloo. They had gone off to celebrate too much, and too wildly. He had returned to find his house in an uproar. Decorators were draping the saloons in swathes of silk. Footmen were staggering around with potted plants. Strange housemaids hired for the occasion were flirting shrilly with his military servants and nowhere could he find peace except in his study. He slammed the shutters closed and decided to have a glass of wine, and then an hour’s sleep, before preparing for the rigors of the evening.

He winced as his wife crashed through the door, two bright spots of color burning on her cheek.

“Did you or did you not invite Clarissa and Perry?” she stormed.

“Yes,” he said, “and don’t shout!”

“Is this some mad joke?” asked Mary, staring at him with hauteur. “I would have thought that Lord Peregrine would have taken himself out of the country.



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