He took up Mercy’s gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I look forward to that day as well. My mother is very fond of you.”
The look Shaw directed to her was hot and heavy with suggestion. Mercy ignored it, recovered her hand and led Anna toward the waiting carriage.
She gave her friend a quick hug. “I am so glad you could stay overnight, Anna. All going well, I’ll see you again next week, as we arranged.”
Anna lips turned up into a devious smile and Mercy’s heart sank. “Sooner than that, I should imagine.”
Anna kissed her cheeks and climbed into Lord Shaw’s impressive new carriage. One down, one to go.
Lord Shaw kissed the air above Blythe’s hand and then captured Mercy’s again in a firm grip. “Until we meet again, Your Grace.” When he squeezed her fingers, head dipping to kiss them too, Mercy tugged them back. The urge to remove her glove and throw it away grew at the smug smile curling his lip.
Insufferable bounder. Could he not take a hint that she wanted none of him?
He swept inside the carriage and raised his hand in salute as they started off.
As soon as the carriage was at a greater distance, Mercy turned to her sister. “Oh, thank heavens they are gone. I swear they visit every other day.”
“Lord Shaw does visit you too frequently.” Blythe scowled. “He is enamored of you.”
Mercy caught her sister’s arm and dragged her back toward the safety of the abbey. She did not like to be outside for long with so few people around her. The open spaces and dark woods beyond sent a chill racing up her spine. “I do not encourage that man. I enjoy Anna’s visits, but I do wish Shaw would take himself back to Town. He is forever gossiping and causing trouble between us. I do not like him at all.”
Blythe’s frown grew. “He is on good terms with many people. He is wanted everywhere. I cannot understand it.”
“Well, not by me.” Mercy shut the terrace doors quickly. “Come, let us take breakfast together. Cook wanted to try out a new dish. Hopefully, it has not been ruined by Anna’s tardy departure.”
Although Blythe moved along with her through the abbey, there was a stiffness to her posture that Mercy did not like. No doubt her feelings were still prickling over Shaw’s rather obvious intentions. She would be preparing yet more sternly worded lectures on the subject of a duchess’ responsibility to observe the utmost propriety. Mercy was all too aware of her responsibilities in that regard, and she was failing most of them quite deliberately.
They sat down in the morning room, a cozy space for just the two of them, and enjoyed cook’s decadent breakfast. The one thing Mercy whole heartedly enjoyed about being a duchess was how terribly spoiled her tastes had become. With a well supplied pantry, Mercy’s cook was a genius.
When no lecture was forthcoming immediately, Mercy thought it safe to resume conversation on another matter. “What are your plans for the day, dearest?” Mercy asked as she patted her napkin to her mouth, replete after a sumptuous feast.
Blythe shrugged and set her fork down after barely touching anything on her plate. “There is nothing at Walden Hall that requires my supervision today. I had not thought to return till the afternoon, unless I am in the way here.”
Mercy sighed in relief. She and Edwin wouldn’t be left alone just yet. “Then you will stay and, if I can convince you to remain tonight, I will be a very happy woman. It has been an age since we stayed up late as we did as girls. Remember how mama used to get so cross at our late night giggling?”
“We should have listened to her better. She meant the best for us and now we have the lines on our faces to reveal our age. If I had a dau—” Blythe’s words stuck in her throat suddenly. Her mouth sealed tight over her unfinished wishes.
Poor Blythe. She had been married the longest, and had nothing to show for her marriage now. She had lost her husband when she’d lost her son to a terrible fever that had swept the district. Even after these two years of widowhood, it was a subject that always changed her mood. Only Edwin’s company seemed to jolly her into a better frame of mind.
Blythe dragged in a shuddering breath. “What are your plans today?”
“Well,” Mercy stood and drew Blythe with her. “I thought we might visit the library, find a horrid novel each, and spend the day alternatively reading and playing with Edwin. Could we do that?”
The idea of lounging safely tucked away in her son’s playroom was vastly appealing. If Blythe could be convinced to remain idle in that room, and not fuss over Edwin too much, she might never think about her problems again today.
Blythe frowned. “We can do anything you wish, Your Grace. This is your house.”
“But you are my sister, so we will both decide on the entertainments of the day.” She carefully tucked a stray lock of her sister’s hair behind her ear. “I do not like to order people about, I most especially dislike that you think I should be bossy with you. What would you prefer to do, Blythe?”
Blythe smiled suddenly. “What you propose is perfect. I should like to spend time with Edwin very much. He is such a dear little lad.”
Mercy held in a sigh of relief. “Good. Let’s see what Hamilton & Gambrill Booksellers have sent to us. It was a very large crate that arrived yesterday, wasn’t it?”
Blythe smiled, too.
Yet, as Mercy sorted through the stacks of books arranged in the library for her perusal she could not help but wonder what thoughts swirled inside Blythe’s mind. Blythe had once been a daring, vivacious, and determined young woman. Out of all the Hunt girls—Mercy, Blythe, and their younger sister, Patience—Blythe had married first at just sixteen years of age. She had accepted a proposal of marriage from the darkly handsome widower, Lord Venables, a man seventeen years her senior. The match had set tongues wagging in decided shock. Despite all the whispers about the match, Mercy had liked Lord Venable because he had doted on his second wife quite sincerely. He had enjoyed a good laugh with their family, too. But Blythe did not laugh now and Mercy
fervently hoped that the woman she once was still lurked beneath her grief.