them. ‘I passed the stack of them myself on the way here.’
A chorus of whispers began all about them. Mae was delighted. An angry wife? A disenchanted mistress? Either one of them might have taken Pratchett—if only to make the earl miserable.
‘Lord Ryeton certainly is having a difficult time of it,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Miss Hague
is
interested inracing. That may be what has inspired his wife to come up with this particular plan.’
‘The kitchen maids said that she’s giving up the lease on her house. Perhaps she means to relocate to London. Likely she’s on the lookout for a new protector.’
‘Lucy, that is the outside of enough! If you keep on, I’m going to tell Mama.’
Nobody paid the least bit of attention to Miss Metheny.
‘Perhaps not,’ the other girl said, keeping her voice low. ‘My sisters put their heads together when we passed those boxes and said that Miss Hague has been seen driving out of Newmarket every afternoon.’ She raised her brows. ‘Perhaps she has found Lord Ryeton’s replacement already.’
‘I insist that we leave this subject behind.’ Miss Metheny was becoming sincerely disturbed. Mae felt a twinge for the fate of their household’s kitchen maids. ‘Let’s talk of something else.’ Pointedly she turned to Mae. ‘Have you been long acquainted with Lady Toswick, Miss Halford?’
Mae blinked. ‘No, indeed. I never met her before this house party.’
‘How kind of her to invite you and your family, then.’
‘Very kind. I credit Lord Toswick. He and my father are racing cronies.’
‘I credit the fact that the countess’s nephew is not yet married,’ Addy said with a smirk. ‘I rather think she wanted to get a look at you, Mae, before you made your début in London.’
‘Well, Delia won’t like that!’ Miss Lucy said, witha look of alarm. ‘My sister is the toast of the Season.’ She leaned close. ‘And she’s not fond of rivals.’
‘If you cannot open your mouth without making a quiz of yourself, then I wish you would keep it closed!’ Miss Metheny had gone off crimson again.
Mae could not suppress another pang of sympathy for the difficult Miss Metheny. Miss Lucy had proven quite helpful today, but she possessed a definite gift for discomposing her sister.
‘Surely you jest, Miss Lucy. Your sister appears to have every social advantage over me. She has knowledge and experience of London society, while I have been gallivanting abroad.’ Mae cast a smile of camaraderie towards the beleaguered girl. ‘She can have no need to feel threatened by me.’
But Miss Metheny was in no mood to form alliances. Or perhaps she had been pushed past her endurance. Raising her chin, she speared Mae with an unmistakable challenge. ‘The word is that you possess a dowry of fifty thousand pounds. That’s enough to make you a threat to every unmarried girl in London.’
Mae flushed. Or perhaps Miss Metheny was just a shrewish vixen. Whatever the case, she would not allow the girl to vent her spleen all over her.
‘But I saw you speaking to Lord Stephen Manning last night.’ Miss Lucy broke in, her eyes alive with interest. ‘Perhaps your interests lie in that direction?’
Mae struggled to control both her colour and her temper. ‘Lord Stephen and I are old friends. We practically grew up together. Are you well acquainted with him?’
Miss Lucy’s face lit up. ‘No, but I should certainly like to be.’
‘I can easily arrange an introduction.’
‘To one of the Fitzmanning Miscellany?’ Miss Metheny broke in. ‘Don’t be absurd. That family has made its home in the scandal sheets for the last twenty years. It wouldn’t be seemly.’
Every trace of empathy for the girl died a quick and fiery death. Mae straightened, her fists clenched.
But Addy leaped to Stephen’s defence even before Mae could. ‘Lord Stephen Manning—’
‘Is a second son of a disreputable duke,’ the nasty bit of baggage interrupted. ‘And likely in need of
A chorus of whispers began all about them. Mae was delighted. An angry wife? A disenchanted mistress? Either one of them might have taken Pratchett—if only to make the earl miserable.
‘Lord Ryeton certainly is having a difficult time of it,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Miss Hague
is
interested inracing. That may be what has inspired his wife to come up with this particular plan.’
‘The kitchen maids said that she’s giving up the lease on her house. Perhaps she means to relocate to London. Likely she’s on the lookout for a new protector.’
‘Lucy, that is the outside of enough! If you keep on, I’m going to tell Mama.’
Nobody paid the least bit of attention to Miss Metheny.
‘Perhaps not,’ the other girl said, keeping her voice low. ‘My sisters put their heads together when we passed those boxes and said that Miss Hague has been seen driving out of Newmarket every afternoon.’ She raised her brows. ‘Perhaps she has found Lord Ryeton’s replacement already.’
‘I insist that we leave this subject behind.’ Miss Metheny was becoming sincerely disturbed. Mae felt a twinge for the fate of their household’s kitchen maids. ‘Let’s talk of something else.’ Pointedly she turned to Mae. ‘Have you been long acquainted with Lady Toswick, Miss Halford?’
Mae blinked. ‘No, indeed. I never met her before this house party.’
‘How kind of her to invite you and your family, then.’
‘Very kind. I credit Lord Toswick. He and my father are racing cronies.’
‘I credit the fact that the countess’s nephew is not yet married,’ Addy said with a smirk. ‘I rather think she wanted to get a look at you, Mae, before you made your début in London.’
‘Well, Delia won’t like that!’ Miss Lucy said, witha look of alarm. ‘My sister is the toast of the Season.’ She leaned close. ‘And she’s not fond of rivals.’
‘If you cannot open your mouth without making a quiz of yourself, then I wish you would keep it closed!’ Miss Metheny had gone off crimson again.
Mae could not suppress another pang of sympathy for the difficult Miss Metheny. Miss Lucy had proven quite helpful today, but she possessed a definite gift for discomposing her sister.
‘Surely you jest, Miss Lucy. Your sister appears to have every social advantage over me. She has knowledge and experience of London society, while I have been gallivanting abroad.’ Mae cast a smile of camaraderie towards the beleaguered girl. ‘She can have no need to feel threatened by me.’
But Miss Metheny was in no mood to form alliances. Or perhaps she had been pushed past her endurance. Raising her chin, she speared Mae with an unmistakable challenge. ‘The word is that you possess a dowry of fifty thousand pounds. That’s enough to make you a threat to every unmarried girl in London.’
Mae flushed. Or perhaps Miss Metheny was just a shrewish vixen. Whatever the case, she would not allow the girl to vent her spleen all over her.
‘But I saw you speaking to Lord Stephen Manning last night.’ Miss Lucy broke in, her eyes alive with interest. ‘Perhaps your interests lie in that direction?’
Mae struggled to control both her colour and her temper. ‘Lord Stephen and I are old friends. We practically grew up together. Are you well acquainted with him?’
Miss Lucy’s face lit up. ‘No, but I should certainly like to be.’
‘I can easily arrange an introduction.’
‘To one of the Fitzmanning Miscellany?’ Miss Metheny broke in. ‘Don’t be absurd. That family has made its home in the scandal sheets for the last twenty years. It wouldn’t be seemly.’
Every trace of empathy for the girl died a quick and fiery death. Mae straightened, her fists clenched.
But Addy leaped to Stephen’s defence even before Mae could. ‘Lord Stephen Manning—’
‘Is a second son of a disreputable duke,’ the nasty bit of baggage interrupted. ‘And likely in need of
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