“Odd, in light of the lengths he went to in order to rid himself of her,” Colin murmured. He frowned. “One would think a woman would hate a man for airing her personal indiscretions in public.”
“I agree,” James said, “but Mrs. Lawson had nothing but praise for the man.”
“Maybe there’s more to the story than meets the eye,” Grayson suggested.
“I’m sure there is,” James said. “In fact, I’m certain she and her husband lied in order to get the divorce he wanted. Which proves her devotion to him.”
“And where is Mr. Hewitt now?” Colin asked. “Do you know?”
James shrugged. “In America with his new wife, from what I gather.”
“Blimey.” Grayson stared at James. “If his reason for getting divorced was so he could marry another woman and Mrs. Lawson helped him with this, she ought to be respected.”
“Though it does seem to prove your belief,” Colin said, “about her loving him.”
“Colin,” Grayson hissed.
“What? We all know it’s the only thing that makes sense,” Colin said.
“He’s right,” Grayson said when no one else uttered another word. “No woman would willingly ruin her reputation and risk being permanently ostracized for any reason, unless it was a selfless act of love.”
James had concluded the same, which was part of the reason why he was in such a bitter mood lately. He wanted Mina in his life, but he could not bear the thought of being her second choice. Figuring out how to have a relationship with her now after what they’d shared was difficult. Hence the loom. In her thank you letter she’d sounded happy with the gift, but had offered no other hints pertaining to her thoughts about him. Did she even think of him as often as he thought of her? Or had she moved on?
“Sorry,” Colin said, “but we’re your friends. It’s our job to tell you the harsh truth, no matter how unappealing it may be.”
“And I value that,” James said. “Truly I do.”
“What happened with Michael and Mrs. Lawson’s daughter?” Grayson asked after a brief pause in conversation. “I trust you found them before they married?”
“Indeed we did.” James eyed his friends. “Turns out the daughter’s unable to have children. When she mentioned it to Michael, he realized he needed to give the whole marriage idea more thought. So they were actually of a mind to return to London when Mrs. Lawson and I caught up with them.”
“Blimey,” Colin muttered.
“I second that sentiment.” Grayson leaned forward in his seat. Lines puckered his brow. “I trust Michael plans to move on? Forget Mrs. Lawson’s daughter and make a more suitable match?”
James took a deep breath and expelled it. “Actually, he’s of a mind to go ahead with the wedding. When he and I last discussed it, he said he’d rather have the bird in his hand than the two in the bush. I…” He gave his head a weary shake. The fact that Michael was willing to give up on children for this woman proved that he loved her more than James had ever imagined. So who the hell was he to stand in the way of their joyous union? From now on, he’d do what he could to offer the support he ought to have given right from the start.
Lord, he’d been wrong about so many things of late – so bloody righteous and unyielding.
“It’s no wonder you look as you do,” Grayson said. “Considering what you’ve had to deal with of late, I’m shocked you’re not ten sheets to the wind as well.”
“Perhaps the cure would be to get you cleaned up a bit and out of this house.” Colin saluted his friends with his glass. “We could go to Mivart’s for supper and then on to Vauxhall Gardens for a bit of distraction.”
“I don’t know,” James hedged. He really didn’t feel like going anywhere, or like making the effort required to get himself ready. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“I’ll be heading back to my estate tomorrow morning,” Grayson said. “I am…reluctant to remain absent for longer.”
The way he said that gave James pause. He considered his friend and his sudden reluctance to meet his gaze. “Why is that?”
“Because…” Grayson shrugged.
When he added nothing further, Colin sighed and rolled his eyes. “Apparently he misses the governess.”
Grayson raised an eyebrow. “No more than you miss Mrs. Leighton, I’ll wager.”
“How intriguing,” James said with a chuckle. “Do tell me more.”
Grayson sighed. “Suffice it to say I came back to London in order to think. I can’t do that at Sutton Hall with Olivia turning my head every time she glances my way.”
“Olivia, is it?” James murmured with a wry grin.
“Don’t you start as well,” Grayson warned. “It’s bad enough that he won’t shut up about it. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking when I confided my dilemma in him.”
“I’ve already told you to marry the chit,” Colin said.
“Hence my intention to set off tomorrow,” Grayson said.
“You mean to propose?” James asked.
“Maybe.” Grayson seemed to mull something over, then added, “For starters I plan on figuring out how she really feels about me.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” James asked, hoping his friend might provide the answer he himself sought.
Grayson met James’s gaze. “By asking her, of course.”
Of course.
How stupidly simple. James wondered why he hadn’t thought to take this approach. No doubt because he’d been too caught up in his own emotional turmoil to think straight.
Well, perhaps it was time he began doing so. He was forty-five years old, for God’s sake – well beyond the age where it made sense for him to wonder what the woman he fancied thought about him. If he really wanted to know, then he should just ask her and be done with it.
Wilhelmina stepped down from the carriage she’d taken to The Swan with Two Heads, collected her bag, and started walking. It would take her a good half hour to reach Cynthia’s house and while she had considered hiring a hackney, she’d decided she could do with the exercise after sitting for several consecutive hours.
With her head held high and her bag gripped firmly in one hand, she made her way to Oxford Street before dusk started to settle. The crowded street, packed with carriages, horses, and wagons at this hour, was noisy. Merchants who lived west of the City were heading home while gentlemen tried to get to their clubs.
Up ahead, a couple of ladies approaching halted their progress. They stared at Wilhelmina, exchanged a few words with each other, and promptly crossed to the other side of the street, weaving their way through oncoming traffic as they went. She shook her head and tried not to let their reaction sting, but it was hard not to when they’d rather risk getting trampled by an oncoming carriage than having to cross paths with her.
She reached the corner of Berner’s Street and turned right. Three streets later she arrived at the front door of Petersen House. Glancing both ways before she approached, Wilhelmina made sure no one saw who had come to call on the widow who resided here and, noting that the coast was clear, quickly went to knock.