Page 30 of To Wager with Love

“Goodness, Harriet is a dark horse,” Bonnie said with approval.

Matilda shook her head and gave Bonnie a despairing glance. “These were not billet doux, but an exchange of intellectual ideas and theories. There was nothing the least romantic about it, from what Harriet said.”

Bonnie grimaced. “Well, what’s he like, then?”

“I’ve no idea. I was out when he visited the house this morning.”

“Oh, yes,” Minerva put in. “Henry said you came back looking like a drowned rat. Did you get caught in that dreadful storm, you poor thing? Happily, it had finished by the time we left Ruth’s aunt’s house.”

Matilda flushed for no reason Minerva could fathom. “Oh, I got a little wet. Nothing to signify. Now, then,” she continued, gesturing for them all to hurry. “There goes the dinner gong, so we’d best go down.”

The ladies made their way down the stairs, and Minerva admitted to some trepidation for the meal ahead. She hated it when there was tension in the air but the talk was all polite nothings, and no one dared say anything of consequence. Still, she was hungry and there was little point in pretending otherwise. She’d finally taken Prue’s advice and stopped dieting so drastically, and it was so lovely to enjoy a good meal and not watch everyone else tucking in while she barely touched her own. Besides which, Bonnie was right. They ought to support Harriet, whether or not she was there, and they could not do that if they did not appear.

Lady St Clair greeted them all warmly, as if there was nothing at all the least bit wrong, and they seated themselves for dinner. They were eating in the small dining room this evening, the one the family used when they were not entertaining, which was a relief. It was rather more intimate and a deal less intimidating.

Lady St Clair took her seat at one end of the table whilst St Clair sat at the other. There were no formal seating arrangements, and everyone just sought a chair and then stopped in their tracks as Harriet appeared. She was pale and stiff, but she stood tall and held her head high as she walked to the table. She took the nearest chair by Lady St Clair and to Minerva’s left, as far from St Clair as she could get.

Good for you, Minerva thought, and reached out a hand under the table to take Harriet’s and squeeze. She didn’t know Harriet terribly well, but she hoped the gesture might give the young woman courage. To her relief, Harriet squeezed back before letting her hand go.

“Did I tell you I had a letter from Jemima?” Matilda said to Bonnie, her voice bright and cheerful as she broke the rather stilted silence.

“Oh, no,” Bonnie said, rising at once to the bait, to everyone’s relief. “How is she? Has she explained her disappearance?”

Minerva vaguely remembered Jemima, though she’d only seen her once or twice. She was blonde and pretty in a fragile, somewhat ethereal way. Minerva mostly remembered noticing that the dress she’d worn was several seasons out of fashion, rather too big for her, and had clearly been altered several times already. It occurred to her that perhaps the girl could no longer afford to attend such lavish ton events if she was forced to make do and mend. No doubt she’d been sneered at by many who would look down on her for such things. Minerva felt a swell of relief that she’d not been one of them. She’d acted badly during the earlier part of this season, mostly from desperation, but she had no desire to compound her shame by remembering any unkind words she’d given. At least she was not guilty of that with Jemima.

“She says her aunt has been ill, and she’s been looking after her. They’re very close, I believe?”

Bonnie nodded. “I think she lives with her aunt, does she not?”

Matilda nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Anyway, I must call on her when I return to town.”

“I wish I could go with you,” Bonnie said, her tone wistful.

“Are you returning to Scotland, Miss Campbell?” Lady St Clair asked, with what Minerva suspected might be a hopeful tone.

“I imagine so,” Bonnie replied, returning a smile that was quite obviously forced. Minerva felt a surge of pity for her, more so as Bonnie’s gaze moved to Jerome and settled there.

“Did you hear the news?” Lady St Clair asked, drawing Bonnie’s attention away from her youngest son as her voice vibrated with suppressed excitement. “The Marquess of Montagu was coming to visit us this afternoon when he got caught in that dreadful storm. He was thrown from his horse.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow,” Jerome quipped, earning himself a snigger from Bonnie and a glare from his mother.

“Did you not see him, Miss Hunt?” Lady St Clair asked, turning to Matilda. “He must have been travelling the same road as you at the same time.”

Matilda’s cheeks flamed as all the Peculiar Ladies present looked up to stare at her with identical expression of enquiry.

“I-I-I,” she stammered.

“It’s a long road, Lady St Clair,” Harriet blurted, taking everyone’s attention from Matilda. “And Matilda got soaked, but she returned home long before the storm was over, didn’t she, Henry?”

Henry stared at his sister for rather too long a moment before he spoke. “Yes. Yes, indeed. I saw her, you see. Wet. Very wet, but… but it was still storming, thundering, that is…. Lightning, too.”

“So, Montagu was likely miles away from her, still at the other end of the road,” Harriet added, with a tad too much force.

“Oh,” Lady St Clair said with a nod, and returned her attention to her soup.

Henry cast his sister a what the devil was that about look, but Harriet ignored him. Matilda concentrated on her own bowl and did not look up. Minerva wondered what Matilda was hiding. Was there something going on with her and Montagu? Surely not. Not after what he did to her.

“Is he badly hurt?” Henry asked, as everyone looked back to Lady St Clair once more.