“What sorts of discipline?” Alex said, all her focus now on Helen.
“You are very nearly en pointe, Alex,” Douglas said, looking vaguely alarmed and also, truth be told, a bit intrigued. “Forget this discipline business.”
“You may feel free to write me, Alex,” Helen said. “Now, I’ve intruded far too long—actually, all of us have. Aunt Mathilda, Aunt Maude, it is a pleasure to see you both again.
“Now, here are poor Jack and Gray, still in the throes of bliss, their first week of marriage barely completed. Good-bye. I’m off to find this Heatherington.”
Helen slipped out of the drawing room, leaving Alexandra staring thoughtfully after her. “I will write to her about this discipline business. Do you really think Helen will search out Heatherington?”
“I hear Quincy prowling outside the door,” Gray said. “Is everyone finished saying their lines in this extraordinary play? Is everyone thirsty from talking so much?”
“I don’t believe I’m thirsty,” Douglas said. “I believe I have a lot of making up to do with my wife. Do you have anything more to say, Alex?”
“I don’t have anything to say, my lord. Do you think that if we left Gray and Jack they would feel slighted?”
“Doubtful,” Gray said and laughed.
Mathilda said to Douglas, “Beautiful man. Come back soon.”
“I will, madam,” Douglas said and kissed Mathilda’s veiny hand. He gave Maude a winsome smile and lifted his teacup to his mouth.
Douglas and Alex drank half a cup of tea, if that, before they left, laughing, nearly dancing to their waiting carriage.
Mathilda said to her sister, “Everything goes well. We can leave now.”
“I have heard,” Gray said, “that Featherstone is fully restored to its former beauty, all traces of the wretched fire and flood long gone. But that is no reason for you to leave. You are quite my favorite great-aunts. I should like for you to remain.”
Maude briskly shook out the skirts of her puce gown, smiling at both of them impartially. “No, we’re through here. I meant to tell you, my boy. I hear that Jack’s stepfather is going to marry that Mrs. Finch, a lady who isn’t at all a lady, but at least she’s wealthy.” Maude patted Jack’s hand. “She will keep Sir Henry in good form, Jack. She is a very strong woman. Actually I feel a bit sorry for him. I daresay his life will become less pleasant.”
Jack said, “On the other hand, she seemed to be quite a passionate lady.”
Mathilda said, “Animal pleasure—that’s all any of them want.”
“I agree,” Maude said. “No need to give him more. Come along, Mathilda, the two young people wish to quote sonnets to each other. I recognize the signs. We are going to a walk in the park.” And off they went, with Quincy fluttering after them, offering shawls, bonnets, gloves, even raspberry tarts.
Jack laughed and said to her husband,
“We have had a very unusual homecoming, Gray.”
“Actually,” he said, taking her hand and gently placing it on his arm, “I would like to regularize it a bit now.”
“Perhaps all afternoon, just the two of us?”
“Yes,” he said, kissed the tip of her nose, shouted a laugh to the ceiling, and galloped up the stairs, Jack running at his side.
Quincy stood very still in the doorway of the drawing room. He slowly ate one of Mrs. Post’s orange tarts. When Horace reached around to snag a lemon cake, Quincy said, “There have been so many changes since her ladyship arrived on the scene.”
Horace, closing his eyes in bliss as he chewed on the lemon cake, said, “Everything is finally right and proper, thank the good Lord. My liver nearly scared itself out of my body there for a while, but not any longer. I believe I’ll go upstairs and see what Dolly’s about.” He grinned down at Quincy, wiped his hands on his breeches, grabbed an apricot tart, and walked away, whistling.
What was right and proper now that wasn’t right and proper before? Quincy wondered.
Two Weeks Later
It happened so quickly, Gray saw only the slash of movement hurtling out of the deep shadows before the knife came down. He managed to jerk away, but the knife tore through his jacket and shirt, sliding into his shoulder, not deeply, thank the Lord. He felt a punch of freezing cold, then numbness.
He whirled on his heels, crouched down, and brought his fist up into the man’s jaw. The man grunted in pain and anger and staggered backward several steps. It gave Gray room and precious seconds. He said to Jack, never looking away from the man, who was shaking his head, the knife still held ready in his right hand, “Stay back, Jack.”
Jack looked frantically around for a weapon, anything she could wield to help. They were only fifty feet from home, it wasn’t even fully dark, yet this man had attacked them.