Page 47 of Vying for a Viscount
“Can you walk with me?” she asked. “My legs are asleep.”
“Where? This place is a crush.”
“We’ll weave around the blankets, hoping not to step on anyone’s fingers or toes,” Letitia giggled.
“Are you well?” Anastasia asked, frowning. “Have you had too much wine?”
“Goodness me, I’ve had nothing. Is there any wine?”
“Perhaps Aurora and I should take you home. You don’t seem yourself.”
“Forgive me,” Letitia said. “I’m in a strange mood today.” Seeing the Earl and Countess of Barstow was disconcerting. Then her conversation with Samantha about Rutherford added another layer. She’d say her mood was odd. “I want you and Aurora to stay and enjoy the indoor picnic, but I’m going to take my leave. I’m no longer in the mood for socializing.”
“What happened?” Anastasia asked, looking concerned.
“Perhaps another time. Go back to Hunter and give my best to him, Aurora, and Warren.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But we’ll miss you.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Do you miss my brother?”
As if she didn’t have enough emotional unrest to handle, Anastasia had to bring up Greyson. Tears threatened, and she blinked them away. “Yes. Now I must go.” She couldn’t hear what Anastasia was saying because she needed to get out of there fast and still needed to thank the hosts. Fortunately, they were by the entrance to the ballroom, so she stopped briefly to pay her respects. Down the stairsshe went. She retrieved her things from the butler and requested her coach, for which the butler sent a footman out into the rain.
She felt bad for the footman. He always had to go out in bad weather. And now he had to find her driver.
It was a long five minutes before the footman returned, with rain dripping from his clothing. “Your carriage outside, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
The butler opened the door, and her footman was there with an umbrella ready. Such efficiency. She hurried down the stairs, her footman keeping pace. He opened the door and helped her inside without a single raindrop landing on her head. Inside, as the carriage wheels rolled, she finally let the tears fall. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but after hearing Samantha say she was sickly and that Rutherford had brought his cousin—or rather his mistress—in her place, how could she not? With the rain and the roads, she had perhaps an hour’s drive before she arrived home. An hour to cry and feel sorry for herself. After that, it was chin up and no more self-pity.
Half of the tears she shed were for herself and what Rutherford had done to her, and the other half were for Greyson and how much she missed him. He’d been gone three days. He’d said he’d be gone, most likely, a fortnight. Suddenly chilled, she reached for the blanket beside her, covered her lap, and closed her eyes. Perhaps a nap would make her feel better.
The carriage stopped, and the door opening startled her awake. She stared at the footman’s gloved hand.
“My lady. We have returned home.”
“Thank you.” She placed her hand in his and stepped out of the carriage. The first thing she noticed was that the rain had stopped. She entered the townhouse and handed Mr. Henry her hat and parasol. “When did it stop raining?”
“About an hour ago, my lady,” he replied.
“I’m going to my chambers. Please have Cook send up a tea tray.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The nap she took in the carriage had left her sleepy and foggy, and she looked forward to relaxing for the rest of the day. Jane was waiting for her in her chambers. “I want my night rail and robe. I don’t plan to leave my chambers again today.”
“Yes, my lady.” Jane disappeared into the dressing room and returned a moment later with her night clothes. Letitia stood still as Jane removed her picnic outfit and dressed her in her nightclothes.
“Cook is bringing up a tea tray. Will you set it on the table beside the chaise longue? I’ll undo my hair.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Letitia sat at her dressing table and pulled out all the pins. She ran her hands through her tresses, searching for any missed pins. She found two. Picking up her brush, she ran it through her hair to remove any tangles, then went to her chaise longue and rested on it.
“Would you like a blanket and a pillow, my lady?” Jane asked.
