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Mrs. Grant had always been protective of her, so Elizabeth did not take offense. And in truth, the housekeeper had no idea that the director of the charity was cousin to the countess or that Elizabeth’s interest had to do with her sister.

“I shall keep that in mind, Mrs. Grant,” Elizabeth said as she rushed past the housekeeper.

Later

Reaching the sitting room door, Elizabeth was suddenly brought up short. Hearing a man’s voice—one she tried to avoid whenever she was at Cargile House— she wondered if she could successfully evade Lady Cargile’s nephew, Lord Addison, by waiting in another room until he left. In the six months since his ill-fated honeymoon—during which his wife died—that man had begun visiting his aunt frequently, and, to Elizabeth’s dismay, he appeared to be interested in her.

Whilst she debated the possibility of avoiding him, she heard him declare, “I am sorry, Aunt, but Dr. Goolsby insists your cough should be dealt with immediately by removing you to Brighton for a short respite. You would be cared for in his clinic as befits a countess whilst taking in the sea air for your health.”

“But you said Miss Bennet would not be able to accompany me, so I do not wish to go.”

“As I explained, there is not enough room in the clinic to accommodate personal servants. Still, you would only be separated a few weeks at most.”

“I shall think about it, but as of now I am determined to stay here.”

Suddenly, a maid carrying a tray of refreshments started down the hall in her direction. Elizabeth saw no choice but to go on into the room.

Seeing her, Lady Cargile brightened. “There you are! I was beginning to think we would have to forgo our tour of the new art exhibit today.”

Nodding to the tall, blond-haired gentleman with steely grey eyes who had fixed his gaze on her before performing a smart bow, Elizabeth replied to her Ladyship, “We shall be on our way as soon as your nephew departs.”

Lord Addison laughed. Bringing one hand to his heart, he said, “I am wounded to know you wish me to leave even before you have taken the time to greet me, Miss Bennet.”

“As always, you twist facts to suit yourself,” Elizabeth replied dryly.

“If you say so. Still, I shall not be blamed for interfering with your tour of the art exhibit; therefore, I shall take my leave.” Turning to his aunt, he added, “Please think on what I said about removing to Brighton. Dr. Goolsby will see you again next week, and we shall speak of it after he has examined you.”

“If you insist. Now, be off with you! Miss Bennet and I must get on with our tour,” Lady Cargile declared, with a wink at her companion.

At Lord Addison’s departure, Lady Cargile partook of some light refreshments before she rang for her butler and instructed him to have the stablemaster bring the carriage to the front of the house.

Later, as they slowly wound their way through the streets of Mayfair on their journey to the art exhibit, Elizabeth’s thoughts turned to Lord Addison. He had seemed determined to win her favour from the first day they met. He was handsome; she would give him that. Still, no man could ever compare to the one who had owned her heart since she foolishly refused his proposal in Kent. In truth, she had fallen hopelessly in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy after they spent time in company at Netherfield when Jane was ill, though she had been too proud to acknowledge it at the time. It was only after she had declared him the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry that she realised he was the only man in the world she would ever love.

Mr. Darcy was not only excessively handsome, but she had learned from his letter explaining his dealings with Mr. Wickham and his reasons for advising Charles Bingley against marrying Jane—an outcome that her sister now agreed with—that Darcy was an honourable man as well. Even after Jane mentioned that he had advised Lord Morgan against marrying until his finances were settled, Jane accepted that Darcy was only being cautious for both their sakes.

It was his honour that was even more appealing to her than his appearance. So, no! There would never be another man who could take Mr. Darcy’s place in her heart. Moreover, if she could not marry for the deepest love, she was determined not to marry at all. This realisation made the idea of starting a bakery with Lydia easer to embrace.

A comment from Lady Cargile interrupted her contemplation. “Surely you are aware that my nephew is enamoured of you, and, if you were of a mind to, you could easily become his next wife.”

“I have no intention of becoming any man’s property. Besides, you know well that I have no dowry to tempt a proper gentleman.”

“Robert has no need to marry again for money; Penelope’s dowry set his affairs in very good order. And you have become like a daughter to me, Elizabeth. It would please me very much if you were to become mistress of everything I own, including Cargile Manor in Cornwall.” She leaned closer, as though someone might overhear. “And just think. If you married my nephew, you could afford to help Lydia without worrying about where the money would come from.”

“I appreciate your advice on the subject of marriage and everything you have done for me and for Lydia, Lady Cargile, but as I have said many times before, I have no time to waste on flirtatious men—especially one supposedly in mourning for a wife who died on their honeymoon not six months past.”

With a wave of her hand, Lady Cargile dismissed her nephew’s seeming lack of compassion. “You must understand. If Robert grieved for Penelope, it would be artificial. Their marriage settlement made it perfectly clear that theirs was strictly a marriage of convenience—I know, for I surreptitiously read it when Robert left it lying on my desk.”

At Elizabeth’s gasp, she smiled. “Do not act as though you would not have read it, too. In any case, Robert agreed to marry poor Penelope strictly for her hundred-thousand-pound dowry, and all she was to receive in return was the honour of his name. In fact, it was in writing that consummating the marriage was not a necessity. He could if he wished to, but I would be very surprised if he had.”

“I do not understand.”

“Oh, dear. How to say it? Poor Penelope probably weighed as much, or more than, one of her father’s prize bulls.”

Elizabeth shook her head incredulously. “My goodness! Surely with her father’s wealth Penelope had some redeeming qualities … perhaps an excellent education?”

“Not at all! Like most men of his generation, her father did not believe in a woman being educated beyond the basics of knowing how to run a household.”

“Tell me that she at least had pretty eyes or luxurious hair.”