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Joseph looked between his mother and the lady who had saved her in disbelief. “Are either of you hurt?”
He’d walked out of the shop in time to see his mother step into the path of an oncoming carriage that showed no sign of slowing.
The sight of the galloping horse and the tall carriage wheels drawing ever closer wasn’t one he’d soon forget.
His mother glanced down as if to check to make certain all was well before looking back at him. “I—I believe I’m well. Thanks to this kind lady,” she said as she gestured toward the woman.
“The driver was going far too fast.” The lady, who looked vaguely familiar, scowled as she stared down the street to where the carriage had disappeared from sight.
“Oh, my goodness.” Another lady joined them and wrapped an arm around the younger one. “That was a near miss. Thank goodness neither of you was hurt.”
Based on the faint resemblance between them and the age difference, they appeared to be mother and daughter. But his concern was for his own parent, especially when she was visibly shaken by the incident.
“Mother,” Joseph began as he reached for her trembling hand, his heart still pounding with fear, “you must take better care.”
“I suppose my thoughts were on our conversation rather than the traffic.”
Guilt struck him at her words. He hated to think his comments about Reverend Henderson’s visits had bothered her when she already had enough on her mind. He needed to keep his worry to himself.
“Please don’t mention this to your father.” Her face went paler with the request.
Joseph held tighter to her hand, ignoring the curious looks of the two strangers. “No, I won’t.” On that, they agreed. He wouldn’t be pleased with either of them or the fact that they’d been together.
He tucked her hand under his arm, determined to see her to her carriage. He studied her a moment longer, wondering what exactly had caused her to be so distracted that she’d nearly been run over.
With a quiet breath of relief, he attempted a smile at her rescuer. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“I’m pleased I was able to help.” Wide blue eyes the color of a bright summer sky held on him as a hint of blush tinged her cheeks. She was actually quite pretty and definitely looked familiar.
“Have we met?” he asked, still trying to remember if he should know her.
“Yes. Twice.” Her lashes fluttered downward, covering those amazing eyes.
He frowned, having difficulty believing he wouldn’t remember. While he tended to avoid speaking to ladies and their mothers as he had no plans to marry in the near future, he couldn’t imagine that he would’ve forgotten this lovely lady.
She gave a brief shake of her head as if to suggest it didn’t matter. “The Earl and Countess of Bolton are dear friends, and I believe you know Captain Shaw, as well.”
“Of course.” He nodded, his memory slowly returning. They’d been introduced at a ball, though he couldn’t say which one. Why hadn’t he noted her beauty then?
Perhaps it was the sunlight that made her look especially attractive. Her skin was smooth and glowed with good health, and her heart-shaped face had high cheekbones and a slim, pert nose. The hair beneath her narrow bonnet was a blend of light and dark with the paler strands winning the day.
“Mother, you might remember Viscount Garland,” she said.
“Of course. How nice to see you again.”
“A pleasure.” He bowed, aware of his mother’s hand still trembling under his arm. “May I present my mother, Anna Harris, the Countess of Caldwell.”
To his dismay, the young lady dipped into a curtsy but didn’t share her or her mother’s name. Of course, she didn’t when they’d already been introduced. How unfortunate that he couldn’t remember, nor could he think of a polite way to ask.
“Thank you again,” his mother told the younger lady, clearly ready to depart since she was still upset.
“You’re quite welcome.” The lady’s gaze held on his mother, and he wondered if she saw the same sadness he did.
He released a quiet sigh of frustration. He had done what he could to help, but she needed to stand up for herself as well.
However, he understood why she so often chose not to. His father’s wrath was unpleasant, to say the least. Defying him in any way was rarely worth the argument that followed.
“Are you certain you’re all right?” the lady’s mother asked. “We could find a place to sit and rest for a time.” She glanced around as if searching for one.
“No need,” his mother said quickly. “My carriage isn’t far.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Joseph offered.
“Very well.” She smiled politely. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
“And you as well,” the older lady said.
“I wish you a good day,” Joseph added. Then with a nod, he turned away. “Which way is your carriage?”
His mother tipped her head across the street.
As they moved away, he couldn’t resist looking back at the pretty rescuer and found her watching him. How he wished he could remember her name.
~*~
THREE DAYS LATER, HARRIET paused after the footman assisted her to alight from the coach at Melbourne House in Wiltshire. The sight of the imposing mansion was enough to give one pause. Though she knew Frances’ parents were wealthy, one look at the estate suggested that was an understatement.
Frances’ grandfather had bought large tracts of land with his fortune, including the mansion. Arthur Melbourne, Frances’ father, continued the family’s success with savvy investments over the years, growing their wealth even more. Frances’ mother’s family came from money as well.
However, those who met Frances and her parents in London wouldn’t guess the extent of the family’s fortune. The townhouse in the city was nice but not ostentatious. The Melbournes didn’t host lavish parties. Frances dressed well though not always in the latest fashion, and she didn’t go shopping any more often than most young ladies her age.
However, the trip to Melbourne House hinted at their wealth. She and Frances had traveled in their richly appointed private train car, along with her parents. A fine coach with a team of four had picked them up at the train station.
But viewing the country estate made it clear just how wealthy the family was. A circular driveway led to the three-story red-brick structure where a statue of a water deity stood guard. The house boasted over fifty rooms and was an H-plan Elizabethan design, according to Mrs. Melbourne. Formal gardens were visible on the north side. Rolling green fields surrounded the estate with a forest bordering the southern edge, and practically begged one to enjoy long walks around the property.
“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Frances asked as she paused beside Harriet to study the place. “A duke and duchess lived here two hundred years ago.” She gave a rueful look at Harriet. “I don’t suppose they would be pleased to know that we live here now, but such is the way of things.”
“I hope they’d be happy someone was enjoying their home,” Harriet said as she continued staring at it. “Tell me there’s a library inside.”
Frances grinned. “We have two. You can read as many books as you’d like.” She started forward only to turn back. “But you still have to participate in all the activities Mother has planned.”
“Of course.” Harriet hoped there wouldn’t be too many as there was nothing she’d rather do than explore the libraries. “I wish the other league members could’ve come.”
“As do I,” Frances agreed. “Winifred is coming for a few days. But Phoebe is at Bolton House in the country, and of course, Tibby is on her wedding trip. The others weren’t able to make the journey.” She turned to Harriet. “Thank you again for coming and for agreeing to help me. It means so much to me.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Harriet touched her arm. “I’m certain you won’t need my assistance.”
Frances shook her head. “The moment I see him, my shyness takes over, and I can’t manage to say a coherent word.”
“Are you ready to divulge the name of the man who has you so tongue-tied?” Harriet had pressed her during the train ride when they’d had a few minutes alone but with no success. How could she help if she didn’t know who it was?
Color rose in her friend’s cheeks. “I don’t want to jinx it. Not until he arrives. I fear some problem will arise to keep him away if I tell you.”
“Come along, girls,” Mrs. Melbourne said as she and her husband passed by to lead the way to the front entrance. “Let us see you settled before tea. I’m certain you’re both famished from the journey.”
Harriet trailed behind them, unable to stop gawking at the house, wondering how many servants it took to maintain it. Based on the number who spilled out of the arched, carved front doors to greet them, it was dozens.
Soon she followed Mr. and Mrs. Melbourne and Frances inside. The grand entrance hall had a timeless elegance with tiled floors in a black and white pattern, dark wood paneling, and a wide staircase that divided into two on the second floor to curl upward in opposite directions.
Harriet was pleased to find her bedroom was just down the hall from Frances on the third floor rather than on the opposite side of the house.
“See what you think,” Frances said, waiting while one of the maids opened the door.
Harriet stepped inside, delighted by the tasteful blue décor. “It’s beautiful.”
A four-poster bed dominated the room with matching night tables on either side. Pale blue wallpaper covered the upper half of the walls above more of the dark wood paneling pre-dominant throughout the house.
A pink floral wingback chair sat near the window, a perfect place to read during the day, and another stood before the fireplace. A small writing desk was in a corner, also an inviting place to sit.
Harriet turned to Frances with a smile. “Thank you so much. It’s a lovely room.”
“I’m so pleased you like it. Let Sally know if you need anything. We’ll be sharing her services during your stay.” She tipped her head toward the maid, who smiled warmly. “I’ll leave you to settle in then return to collect you to join Mother for tea in the drawing room in a half hour. Afterward, I’ll show you around.”
“Perfect.” She looked forward to seeing the rest of the house.
Frances departed as a footman brought in her bags. Sally, the maid, quickly unpacked and answered a few questions for Harriet before leaving her to rest.
Harriet took advantage of the few minutes of quiet to retrieve one of the books she’d brought with her and try the chair by the window. However, the view proved too much to resist. She looked forward to walking across the fields and made a mental note to ask Frances if that was permissible.
Tea a short time later was a delight. Harriet didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Melbourne well, but they were kind and generous, much like Frances. Frances’ older brother, Martin, and his wife, Catherine, joined them. The conversation was lively. Everyone seemed excited about the house party.
Mrs. Melbourne didn’t linger long since she wanted to speak with the staff to make certain everything was in readiness for the guests who would begin arriving the next day.
Frances led Harriet on a tour of the house, which boasted over thirty bedrooms, a gallery, a dining room, a ballroom, and numerous sitting rooms, as well as the libraries.
“Father has books in his study, of course,” Frances said, “but they’re on farming techniques and the history of the area. Let me know if you want to look in there, and I’ll make certain he’s not using it.” She paused before a door on the second floor and smiled. “This is my favorite place in the house.”
She opened the door wide for Harriet who gasped in response.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined one wall with a bank of tall windows on another that allowed sunlight to pour in. A narrow spiral staircase led to an upper balcony where more bookshelves were visible. A ladder offered a tempting way to take a closer look at some of the higher shelves.
A cozy sitting area invited one to linger even though portraits of imposing looking gentlemen frowned down at them.
“Who are they?” Harriet asked.
Frances leaned close as if to share a secret. “To be honest, we don’t know. The paintings were here when we moved in. Mother thought they looked too important to take them down.” She held a finger to her lips. “But you’re sworn to secrecy on that subject.”
Harriet smiled. It seemed she would be keeping a few secrets while she was here.
Frances moved to the shelves near the window. “This is my favorite section, so I recommend browsing these first.”
Harriet joined her, pleased to see several familiar titles. “Isn’t it wonderful that Captain Shaw is writing a mystery?”
Tibby’s new husband had started writing a book at Tibby’s urging. The league members were excited at the thought of knowing an author.
“I cannot wait to read it,” Frances said. “I think mysteries are my second favorite kind of book.”
“With romantic tales being your first?”
“Exactly.” She sighed, pressing a hand over her heart. “I love happy endings.”
“On that, we agree.” Whether she would ever have her own happy ending remained to be seen.
“Watching Phoebe and Tibby has convinced me that I shouldn’t simply wait to see if a man notices me.” Frances ran a finger along the spines of the books, though it was obvious her thoughts were not on reading. “But I hope not to encounter the problems they did. That is why I want to do things differently.”
“How so?”
“We can no longer assume that our mission of For Better or Worse is secret. Not with Lady Lucinda and Lady Jane knowing. Who knows who they’ll tell next?”
“True.” The sisters were terrible gossips and had overheard Phoebe and Frances discussing the initiative at a ball.
They’d nearly ruined things for Phoebe with the Earl of Bolton. Then they tried a similar tactic with Tibby and her Captain Shaw.
Harriet sighed. “I fear that by not allowing them to join the Mayfair Literary League, we might have created enemies of them.”
Frances frowned. “What choice did we have when they admitted they don’t like to read? That is the main purpose of a book club—to read and discuss books.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t lessen my concern. They seem intent on spreading the news of our agenda.”
“Well, we won’t have to worry about them during the house party. They were not included on the guest list.”
“Thank goodness,” Harriet said. “How clever of you to manage to have your gentleman invited here. That should make it easier to catch his attention.”
When it was her turn, how would she find a time or place to speak with Viscount Garland? Attempting to make a bold move at a ball—if he happened to attend one as he didn’t often—seemed impossible.
Then again, encountering him on Bond Street had been unexpected. Several times over the past few days, her heart had raced at the memory of his mother stepping into the street in front of the carriage. What if she hadn’t seen her? What if she hadn’t reached her in time?
Harriet suppressed a shudder at the thought. Lady Caldwell had seemed sad, and Harriet couldn’t help but wonder why. Viscount Garland’s concern had been touching and made Harriet admire him all the more.
Yet he clearly hadn’t remembered her. She’d considered mentioning her name again, but the moment had been so awkward that she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Was she so unmemorable and uninteresting? The thought was discouraging.
“Martin is acquainted with him,” Frances continued, bringing her thoughts back to the conversation, “and Father approved him coming.” Frances’ brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m not sure if this will work, but I’m determined to try.”
Harriet smiled. “The house party seems the perfect place for it.” Her friend’s enthusiasm made Harriet wish for a moment that she was the one who was moving forward. How silly to long for a future that was out of reach. He might have caught her notice, but she certainly hadn’t caught his.
