Chapter Twenty-One #2
how deep the gossip went. “When will we have the pleasure of meeting her?”
“Glenna will be joining us in London this summer,” Rynn said. “Along with our grandmother. Thomas and I are greatly looking
forward to seeing them.”
“Your grandmother is coming to London?” Lady Somerset’s tone was perfectly polite but there was that steel in her eyes—of course, it was Granny who’d had to deal with Lady Somerset in the wake of George Carmichael’s death.
Now that the matter was recalled to her, Rynn remembered Granny stomping around the cottage in Bundoran, where they’d moved by that time because life in Dublin was too expensive, muttering “Pompous bastard” in reference to Lady Somerset’s father.
That was after the arrival of the lawyer’s letter informing Granny that Baron Carmichael had died without so much as a shilling to his name, that all the money he’d sent for the care of his daughters to that date had come from Lady Somerset and her father, a very rich man, and from that time on there would be no more funds forthcoming.
After receiving no reply to her letters of protest, Granny had taken herself to London to confront Lady Somerset and her father in person.
The meeting had not gone well, and she had returned home in a fury.
In the aftermath, she’d cursed Lady Somerset’s father in particular to the skies.
“A mean old skinflint,” she’d called him, “with a poisonous daughter.” Then she’d taken in boarders, sold meat pies out of her kitchen, worked at a draper’s in the village and done whatever she could to support them until Rynn was able to start contributing financially to the household.
Which she was still doing, sending them money each month out of the generous allowance Thomas made her until such time as they could join her in England.
“She is,” Rynn confirmed. Lady Somerset’s lips pursed until she looked like she’d tasted something sour.
“I understand you attended Mrs. Liddle’s talk yesterday,” the Duchess said to Lady Somerset. To Rynn, it was an obvious attempt
to redirect the conversation into less sensitive areas. “What did you think of it?”
The gambit worked. Every lady present had an opinion on Mrs. Liddle, and women’s suffrage, and from there the conversation
branched off in other, impersonal directions.
To Rynn, the remainder of the twenty minutes—the prescribed polite duration for an afternoon call, she’d been informed—felt
like a performance conducted for the benefit of the other visitors. They would talk about this meeting with their friends,
she knew, and the final takeaway would come down to, were the Carmichael sisters on good terms or not?
It was in everyone’s best interest for them to be seen to be friendly.
Lord Somerset entered the house just as the ladies were leaving en masse.
Short and stocky, he was in perhaps his mid-fifties, immaculately dressed, with grizzled fair hair and blunt, almost homely features.
During the course of the greetings and introductions that followed, Rynn’s impression of this man who was Penelope’s stepfather and Maguire’s new business partner was that beneath his affable manners, he was shrewdly calculating.
“So you’re my daughter’s sister.” Turning to her at last, he gave her an appraising look, then chuckled. “The pictures in
the newspapers haven’t done you justice. What a surprise you’ve been to Lady Somerset! Dancing with the Prince of Wales! You’ve
quite taken the town by storm, something she wasn’t expecting at all. And married to the Duke of Hartford’s son to boot! I
certainly hope we’ll see more of you, as you and Penelope get better acquainted.”
Rynn murmured something polite, and then to her relief the car arrived, and they were out the door.
“I think we brushed through that rather well,” Maud said as they rode back to Hartford House. “Although it seemed to me that
Lady Somerset had her nose put out of joint because you’re having such a success.”
“I’m glad to have met Penelope,” Rynn said, not wanting to say anything negative about her half-sister’s mother in case anyone
in the car—Alice’s was the loose tongue she was primarily worried about—should repeat it. “Although I do wish we hadn’t had
such an avidly interested audience.”
“Lord Somerset seemed to quite like the idea that his wife wasn’t best pleased with you,” Alice said. “I’ve heard that there’s
trouble in their marriage and that he only married her for her fortune. Just as Lady Somerset’s mother, who was the daughter
of the Earl of Stanton—he lost everything at the gaming table, you know—married her father for his fortune. He was a Cit, fabulously wealthy, who owned half the liquor distilleries in England. Now Lord Somerset runs them. Having acquired
what he married for, I hear he spends precious little time at home.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” the Duchess said. “Now that our friends have found out that Rynn is Penelope Carmichael’s sister, they seem to think I’m interested in every little thing the Somersets do.”
There were other calls to be made, at the Duchess’s insistence, while they were out, which meant that by the time they returned
to Hartford House there was just enough time to change for dinner. Tired from doing the social rounds, which was one part
of life as Thomas’s wife that she definitely could have done without, and tense with worry at the thought that the search
for Bingle must be reaching fever pitch and might wind up on her doorstep at any minute, Rynn had just finished changing for
dinner when Thomas appeared in the doorway of their adjoining bedrooms. He, too, had changed for dinner, and was looking dashing
with his hair slicked back and his now-full mustache lending him an appealing air of maturity. But what made her eyes widen
was that he was walking—walking!—with the aid of his sticks, as he called his new crutches that had cuffs that went around
his forearms and handles he gripped in each hand. They’d been practicing with them each morning for several weeks, but as
they provided less support than the axillary crutches he’d been accustomed to and were certainly far removed from his chair,
she was surprised to see him relying on them for anything other than a practice session.
“You certainly seem to have gotten the knack of those,” Rynn said as he crossed the room toward her. “I’m impressed.”
“As I think I’ve mentioned before, impressing you is always an object with me. Since it’s just family tonight, I thought I’d
give walking into dinner a try.”
“Your mother will be so pleased.” As Parry had just finished draping a fringed silk shawl over her shoulders, completing her
toilette, Rynn said to her in an aside, “Thank you, Parry. I won’t need anything else.”
Parry left. Thomas came up to Rynn where she still stood in front of the long cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom adjusting her shawl.
His gait was halting and awkward, but to see him upright and walking, with his legs bearing so much of his weight, filled her with joy.
Impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
His skin was warm and smooth, and the subtle citrusy scent of his aftershave was pleasant.
“You’ve made such tremendous progress. I’m so proud of you,” she said, sinking back on her heels.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. I would have given up back there in Ireland. You’ve given me something to live for,
you know.” His eyes were intent on hers, as if he was trying to gauge the answer to a question he hadn’t asked.
“And you very likely saved my life back there in Ireland, so I’d say that makes us quits.” She smiled at him. “Shall we go
down?”
“In a minute. I wanted to ask you about something.” His tone turned unexpectedly grave. “I was told that you went out walking
by yourself yesterday, and then didn’t return home for hours because you’d been in an accident of some sort. Is that true?”