thought of her sister
knowing she hadn’t been able to win the interest of her
husband.
Then
she
remembered
last
night’s
conversation through the locked door, and blushed.
“My dear, you don’t seem pleased at the prospect,”
Helen said tentatively.
“I do want to see them,” Constance said. “It’s…well,
it’s complicated.”
Helen set her own letters down. “My dear, I’m not
your mother and never could take her place, but will
you tell me what’s bothering you? I noticed the moment
you walked in that you looked unhappy, and it’s not the
first time.”
“Ma’am, I wouldn’t worry you for the world. I’m
sorry.”
“No need to be sorry,” Helen said. “I know what it’s
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ABBY GAINES
218
like to be a young bride married to a man one doesn’t
know very well. I may be Marcus’s mother, but believe
me, my dear, I’m on your side.” She smiled. “Will you
tell me? Because Marcus doesn’t look happy, either.
You’ll be doing me a favor if you could cast some light
on his inner state.”
Talk to Marcus’s mother about her marriage?
Constance shook her head, before she did something
dreadful like blurt out her woes.
“Am I right in thinking you don’t wish your parents
to visit?” Helen asked.
Ashamed, Constance said, “I feel it would be
awkward.”
The dowager stared out the window for a few
moments. “Would your parents wish to stay here?” she
asked.
Constance skimmed the rest of the letter. “Papa says
if it’s not convenient for us to host them, they will stay
with my Aunt Jane. She’s been on the Continent these
several months, but returns this week.”
She winced. Aunt Jane would doubtless call in
Berkeley Square soon. Her aunt—her father’s youngest
sister and the only member of his family still to
communicate with him—was every bit as observant as
Constance’s parents. Constance sighed.
“Ah, yes, Miss Jane Somerton. A very intelligent
lady.” Helen appeared to doubt the usefulness of Aunt
Jane’s intellectual prowess in the current situation.
“You know, my dear, whatever your problems are, I
don’t believe they are insurmountable.”
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THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
“Pardon me, ma’am, but how could you know?”
Constance asked.
Her mother-in-law smiled. “I detect a softening in
Marcus’s face when he looks at you.”
To her annoyance, Constance’s heart fluttered in
hope.
“I believe if anyone can pierce his armor, it’s you,
with your gentle spirit.”
“I haven’t been particularly gentle in some matters,”
Constance confessed.
“I should hope not—Marcus would ride over you
with all the finesse of an overloaded stagecoach if you
didn’t stand up to him,” Helen said. “It seems to me,
you two need more time to work these things out.”
Constance had told Marcus time was the one thing
they had on their side.
“I can see why you’re reluctant to see your parents. I
know from my correspondence with your father that he
has the most disconcerting habit of seeing right through
one’s words in a letter. And the gift is far more potent
face-to-face.”
“It is,” Constance agreed feelingly.
“Do you know, my dear,” Helen said, “I have just
developed the most intense longing to visit Chalmers.”
She paused and said innocently, “What a shame we
won’t be here when your father comes to London.” She
reached for the handbell on the table next to her, and
rang it to summon Powell from her dressing room. “At
least we’ll have spared your mother the horrors of the
journey,” she said complacently.
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ABBY GAINES
220
“Really? We can go to Chalmers?”
“Certainly. Not tomorrow, but the day after,” Helen
said. “I’ll tell Powell to organize us.”
As Constance left the room, the only thing that
curbed her urge to skip was a pang of guilt that she
should be putting off a meeting with her father…and
the thought of Marcus’s reaction when he learned that
the wife who’d refused to go to Chalmers was now
pursuing him there.
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221
THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
Chapter Nineteen
So much for the healing properties of country air, Tom
Harper thought as a wave of nausea swept through
him—they’d been at Chalmers two days and he had yet
to step outside. He swallowed the threatened
reemergence of his breakfast and focused on the
sporting coat he was holding out for Lord Spenford to
ease his arms into the sleeves.
“Your father tells me the trout numbers are high,” the
earl said. “I’m looking forward to getting down to that
river and casting my line.”
“Yes, my lord.” Tom’s father, John Harper, was still
head gamekeeper, despite his advancing years.
“Did you see your father when he came up to the
house last night?”
Harper brushed a speck of lint off his lordship’s lapel.
“I saw him in the kitchen, my lord.” He was barely
listening. He was too busy thinking on his promise to
Miriam that he’d say something nice about the countess
to the earl. So far the opportunity hadn’t arisen.
“By the way, my mother wants some Indian artifacts
taken up to London for the ball,” the earl said. “I
believe they’re in the attic. Could you tell Buddle?”
Buddle had been the