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Authors: Moonlightand Mischief
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her.
Even if Lady Charlotte managed to bring the earl up to scratch, any chance of happiness would no doubt be ruined. His faithlessness and indiscretions would cause her nothing but heartache.
On the other hand, Lady Charlotte might be of the temperament to ignore that kind of behavior. Mariah had met a few such women over the years and never understood their willingness to tolerate a husband who could disrespect them so grievously. She knew her attitude could never be so accepting toward marital infidelity.
The others rose in preparation for George’s tour.
“Will you be joining us, Mariah?” Steven asked, as she remained seated.
“I beg you all to excuse me, but I believe I would prefer to write a few letters this morning.”
It was true. She did want to write letters, but she also wanted to put off meeting the earl until the last possible moment. It had been one thing to speak so frankly with him in the veil of moonlight, but it would be a completely different proposition in the clear light of day. Maybe if she stayed in this smaller salon she could avoid him for a little while longer.
After the others left, Mariah wandered to a small desk on the other side of the room. It stood in front of a multipaned window that afforded an expansive view of the parkland. She watched a few moments as the trees and shrubs swayed and bent in the raging storm.
As she had suspected, there were writing supplies in the desk, and she set her hand to a long letter to her friend Julia, the Duchess of Kelbourne. Mariah began to describe almost every detail of what had already occurred during her visit to Heaton.
Soon time lost its measure as the rain rapped against the windowpane in rhythm with the scrape of her quill across the foolscap.
At the sound of the door opening, Mariah turned to see Mrs. Ingram, Lord and Lady Walgrave, and Mr. Woburn stroll into the room.
With a sinking heart, Mariah pasted a smile to her lips.
“Ah, Miss Thorncroft, you seem to have found a productive way to spend this gloomy morning,” Mrs. Ingram called as she and her companions settled themselves comfortably in the overstuffed furniture.
Rising, Mariah bobbed a quick curtsy. “Good morning.” Her smile encompassed them, and her eyes briefly met Lady Walgrave’s confident gaze. Then she resumed her seat at the desk.
Lady Walgrave, elegant in a dove gray gown and paisley cashmere shawl, yawned delicately and watched Mariah for a moment.
“You make me feel guilty, Miss Thorncroft. I, too, should be attending to my correspondence. I owe so many of my friends a letter that I do not know where to begin. Therefore I shall put it off another day. Am I not shockingly lazy, my love?” the lady said, sending this last comment to her husband.
Lord Walgrave, his portly frame lounging in a wing chair by the fireplace, responded with a harrumph as he opened his newspaper with a crisp rattle.
Trying not to stare, Mariah could only marvel at Lady Walgrave’s nonchalant demeanor. Obviously Mariah’s presence did not disturb her in the least. How on earth could someone betray her husband and then refer to him as “my love” the very next day?
“This blasted weather has certainly curtailed our hunting,” Mr. Woburn lamented from his stance by the window.
“Quit blubbering, Woby,” Mrs. Ingram chided. “We will have a perfectly lovely time indoors. Now, let us get to know Miss Thorncroft a bit better. I did not have a chance to converse with her last night.” The redhead turned her gaze to Mariah.
“That is a good idea, Mrs. Ingram,” Lady Walgrave quickly agreed. “I, too, would like to learn more about Miss Thorncroft.”
Mariah could not miss the arch smile the lady sent her way.
Out of politeness, Mariah turned from her letter to listen to the women. At least the gentlemen appeared to have no interest in learning more about her, she noticed with some measure of relief.
“So, Miss Thorncroft, which balls have you attended in past
Even if Lady Charlotte managed to bring the earl up to scratch, any chance of happiness would no doubt be ruined. His faithlessness and indiscretions would cause her nothing but heartache.
On the other hand, Lady Charlotte might be of the temperament to ignore that kind of behavior. Mariah had met a few such women over the years and never understood their willingness to tolerate a husband who could disrespect them so grievously. She knew her attitude could never be so accepting toward marital infidelity.
The others rose in preparation for George’s tour.
“Will you be joining us, Mariah?” Steven asked, as she remained seated.
“I beg you all to excuse me, but I believe I would prefer to write a few letters this morning.”
It was true. She did want to write letters, but she also wanted to put off meeting the earl until the last possible moment. It had been one thing to speak so frankly with him in the veil of moonlight, but it would be a completely different proposition in the clear light of day. Maybe if she stayed in this smaller salon she could avoid him for a little while longer.
After the others left, Mariah wandered to a small desk on the other side of the room. It stood in front of a multipaned window that afforded an expansive view of the parkland. She watched a few moments as the trees and shrubs swayed and bent in the raging storm.
As she had suspected, there were writing supplies in the desk, and she set her hand to a long letter to her friend Julia, the Duchess of Kelbourne. Mariah began to describe almost every detail of what had already occurred during her visit to Heaton.
Soon time lost its measure as the rain rapped against the windowpane in rhythm with the scrape of her quill across the foolscap.
At the sound of the door opening, Mariah turned to see Mrs. Ingram, Lord and Lady Walgrave, and Mr. Woburn stroll into the room.
With a sinking heart, Mariah pasted a smile to her lips.
“Ah, Miss Thorncroft, you seem to have found a productive way to spend this gloomy morning,” Mrs. Ingram called as she and her companions settled themselves comfortably in the overstuffed furniture.
Rising, Mariah bobbed a quick curtsy. “Good morning.” Her smile encompassed them, and her eyes briefly met Lady Walgrave’s confident gaze. Then she resumed her seat at the desk.
Lady Walgrave, elegant in a dove gray gown and paisley cashmere shawl, yawned delicately and watched Mariah for a moment.
“You make me feel guilty, Miss Thorncroft. I, too, should be attending to my correspondence. I owe so many of my friends a letter that I do not know where to begin. Therefore I shall put it off another day. Am I not shockingly lazy, my love?” the lady said, sending this last comment to her husband.
Lord Walgrave, his portly frame lounging in a wing chair by the fireplace, responded with a harrumph as he opened his newspaper with a crisp rattle.
Trying not to stare, Mariah could only marvel at Lady Walgrave’s nonchalant demeanor. Obviously Mariah’s presence did not disturb her in the least. How on earth could someone betray her husband and then refer to him as “my love” the very next day?
“This blasted weather has certainly curtailed our hunting,” Mr. Woburn lamented from his stance by the window.
“Quit blubbering, Woby,” Mrs. Ingram chided. “We will have a perfectly lovely time indoors. Now, let us get to know Miss Thorncroft a bit better. I did not have a chance to converse with her last night.” The redhead turned her gaze to Mariah.
“That is a good idea, Mrs. Ingram,” Lady Walgrave quickly agreed. “I, too, would like to learn more about Miss Thorncroft.”
Mariah could not miss the arch smile the lady sent her way.
Out of politeness, Mariah turned from her letter to listen to the women. At least the gentlemen appeared to have no interest in learning more about her, she noticed with some measure of relief.
“So, Miss Thorncroft, which balls have you attended in past
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