Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,86

raise speculation—as if there wasn’t enough of that already in this house party.

But Phyllis took Hettie by the arm and gave him a sweet smile. “Which is why I am going with Miss Nelson.”

Mr. Dosett straightened with a laugh. “Might I be able to persuade you to join me for a ride?”

Phyllis met that invitation with an imperious raise of her brow.

“You are dressed for a ride,” he said, casting her an appraising look that had little to do with her clothes.

“I do not live far from here, and I came to visit my dearest friends,” she said, squeezing Hettie’s arm. To Victoria’s great surprise and relief, Phyllis smiled at her as well. “But the fields are still muddy from last night’s rain. I hardly think your company is worth subjecting myself to such a messy ride.”

“I am certain I can find a way to make it worth the sacrifice.” Clearly, Mr. Dosett had been taking lessons from Mr. Banfield, for he infused that with far more meaning than the words themselves conveyed.

Phyllis raked her eyes up and down him, her brows twisting in disbelief. Turning away with Hettie at her side, she sauntered off with her head held high. Mr. Dosett shoved his cue aside without looking at the fellow who took it and followed after Phyllis.

Victoria stood there, blinking like the silent fool she was. Apparently, Phyllis’s lures were working as well as the young lady had anticipated. For her part, Victoria did not understand desiring a person solely because they feigned indifference, but she wished the pair good fortune and was grateful her actions had not done any damage.

Dosett’s brother followed them out with young Mr. Nelson close on his heels. Not sparing a second glance at Mr. Banfield, Victoria hurried from the room; nothing good would come from a further acquaintance with that fellow. And nothing good would come from any of this set, for not one fit Victoria’s needs.

Wandering the corridor, Victoria did not know whether to seek out company or avoid it. Somehow neither sounded pleasant. Where passing an hour in good conversation usually lifted her spirits, Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of rejoining the ladies, with all the pity directed towards herself and poison spewed at Miss Banfield. Nor would the gentlemen provide any solace—not with Mr. Dixon present. And Victoria could not bring herself to face the younger set after what had just transpired.

Victoria’s hands clenched, wrinkling her skirts as she paced the empty hallways.

***

Sitting on the ground was not the most comfortable of positions at the best of times, and with her nerves strung tautly, Mina could not face reclining on the blankets spread out on the grass. Standing with her hands clenched in her skirts, she stared at the sunlight glinting off the water’s surface, the lily pads dotting the edges as the ring of grass around Bryer’s Pond dipped and swayed in the breezes.

All will be well. Mina repeated those words like a prayer, hoping the Almighty might give her the peace and reassurance she needed. Either Miss Banfield was everything Oliver believed her to be or he would see the truth on his own. One way or another, it would come to rights.

Please let it come to rights.

Mina looked over the spread, shifting cushions this way and that before moving a selection of tartlets to the other side of the blanket. Bless Mrs. Witmore for including those delectable treats. Though Mina had not told the housekeeper of their current troubles, Mrs. Witmore was observant enough to know what was going on and intelligent enough to give the exact show of support needed to bolster Mina’s spirits.

Simon’s hand rested on the small of her back, and Mina felt a modicum of calm wash over her; his own touch relaxed, showing he needed the contact as much as she. Lily sat on the blankets at their feet, examining the spread of food while casting an occasional glance in the direction from which Oliver was likely to come.

“Mama, you are fretting over nothing. Sophie is a dear.” Lily and Oliver had both been singing the young lady’s praises until they were hoarse, but words were of little help at present.

And then her son appeared with Miss Banfield on his arm, and Mina’s breath caught. Simon shifted behind her, and she threaded her arm through his, holding on to give strength as much as gain it. Miss Banfield’s bonnet cast a shadow over her face, keeping her expression from being read at