Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(12)

“Good Lord, not in front of the children.” Disentangling himself from his progeny, Henry rose to his feet. He gave Jeremy a stiff nod. “Jem.”

“Henry.”

Lucy felt Jeremy tense. Only a few weeks had passed since her husband and her brother had been at one another’s throats, but she’d hoped they would greet one another more charitably than this. Would they never be friends again?

“How are you, Lucy?” Henry asked, true concern in his eyes. “Well, I hope?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“Really? You look a trifle pale.” Henry turned his gaze on Jeremy. “Has he scolded you for changing the upholstery this time? Or perhaps you discovered his dungeon full of bones and ghouls.”

“Not yet,” Lucy said. “Henry, you know I’m happy with Jeremy. Must you persist in tormenting him?”

Henry shrugged. “Of course I must. He’s family now.”

Lucy gave him a cool look, but her heart warmed. No, the two men would never be friends again. Now they were brothers, and they would remain so forever, whether they liked it or not.

“Besides,” Henry continued, “what would you have me say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucy replied. “Perhaps, ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I forgive you,’ or ‘I’m so thrilled for you both’?”

Both Henry and Jeremy laughed.

“What’s so amusing?” she asked, mildly annoyed.

“For God’s sake, we’re men,” Henry said. “We don’t say things like that. At best, we keep them tucked in the pockets of our best waistcoats, to pull out at weddings and funerals.”

A commotion in the corridor headed off Lucy’s response.

Toby and Felix burst into the room, wearing riding clothes and grim expressions.

“And speaking of weddings,” Henry said without missing a beat, “what are you doing here? Aren’t you getting married in a few days?”

“She’s gone,” said Toby. He struggled to catch his breath. “Sophia’s gone.”

“Gone?” Lucy untangled her arms from about Jeremy’s neck. “Wherever did she go?”

Felix leaned on a nearby chair, red-faced with exertion. “My … parents-in-law,” he huffed, “telling everyone … Sophia … is ill … sent to seaside … for her … constitution.”

“Perhaps you ought to go with her, man.” Henry crossed to the bar. “You’re not looking so hale yourself.”

“She hasn’t gone to the seaside,” Toby moaned, slinging himself onto the divan. “She’s eloped. We’re on our way to Gretna Green. If we hurry, we might catch them before they reach Scotland.”

“Eloped?” Jeremy asked. “With whom?”

“Some painter.” Toby threw his head back and covered his eyes with his hand. “A Frenchman, no less.”

“What was his name?” Felix wheezed. “Germaine … Jarvis?”

“Gervais?” Lucy asked. A nauseous feeling curled in her belly. Not an infrequent occurrence of late, but dread compounded the queasy sensation.

“That’s the one,” Toby groaned against his forearm. “I’ve been jilted for Gervais.” He straightened and looked at Lucy. “How did you know? I mean, I hoped you might know something. She left you a letter, too.” He fished a folded paper out of his breast pocket and leaned forward, hand outstretched. Lucy took it from his hand, sliding her thumb under the broken seal. “You’ll forgive me for opening it already,” Toby said.

“Of course.” Lucy unfolded the tear-stained missive.

Ma chère Lucy,

Remember how it seemed, once upon a time? That if we imagined something and wanted it deeply and believed it with all our hearts, we knew it could come true?

Well, I’ve decided to give it one last try. This time, I’ve eaten all my porridge. I’m closing my eyes tight … and when I open them, I shall be far, far away.

I’m quite fond of Toby, but I could never make him happy. Still, he’ll take this rather hard, I fear. Please console him as best you can.

Ton amie,

Sophia

“What the devil does that mean, she ate all her porridge?” Toby asked, throwing his hands in the air. “She must know I’d buy her all the porridge she liked.”

“Oh, Toby.” Lucy shook her head as Jeremy took the letter from her hand. “I wish I could tell you where she’s gone, but I can’t. But I’m certain she hasn’t gone to Scotland with anyone named Gervais.”

“But … if not … Scotland,” Felix managed, “where?”

Lucy shrugged. There wasn’t anything she would put past Sophia. “She could be anywhere.”

Toby groaned and sank back onto the sofa, covering his eyes with one hand. “I’ve been jilted.Me! I can’t comprehend it. Every girl in England wants to marry me.”

Lucy turned to face her husband. “Poor Toby,” she murmured.

“‘Poor Toby’ nothing,” Jeremy said curtly.“Console him as best you can?” he read aloud with eyebrows raised. His arm tightened around her waist. “Don’t even think it.”

Lucy gasped in indignation. “I would never!” She snatched the letter from his hand and folded it neatly. “And don’t tease. Sophia’s wild imagination may be Toby’s misfortune, but we owe a great debt of happiness to her absurd letters.”