Susan Johnson by When Someone Loves You

Mother.”
    “Perfect. And why don’t I ask her if she’d like to join us?”
    But when he did, Mrs. Foster graciously refused, citing her invalid status as an excuse. “There’s no reason why Annabelle can’t see your racers, though,” she quickly added. “It’s lovely to see that rosy glow on her cheeks again. She’s been inside too much and working so hard lately. You have, darling—don’t look at me like that. It’s the truth.” Mrs. Foster turned to Duff. “What time will you be coming to fetch Annabelle?”
    “Would ten be too early?” He only stopped himself from saying eight by sheer will.
    “Not in the least. We all rise with the sun.”
    “You’re sure you and Molly wouldn’t like to come along and bring the babies too?” he offered politely, extending the invitation in all sincerity.
    “Heavens no, but thank you. And thank you as well for my winnings.” Mrs. Foster patted her skirt pocket where she’d placed the bills Duff had given her. “Gray mares always win for me. And I’ll see that Annabelle is ready at ten, Lord Darley. There, see what she’s learned on Drury stage?” Annabelle’s mother said with a smile. “She can make the oddest faces. Now, darling,” she added, patting Annabelle’s arm, “a little sunshine and fresh air will do you wonders. Just you wait and see. And thank Lord Darley for the invitation, sweetheart. Hmpf, as if that mumbled thank-you is sufficient. Well, we thank you, my lord, even if my daughter has forgotten her manners.”
    “You’re very welcome, Mrs. Foster. It’s my pleasure, believe me.” He caught Annabelle’s eye and smiled. “Until tomorrow,” he murmured and with an exquisite bow, he turned and left.
    “Mama, for heaven’s sake,” Annabelle hissed as Duff walked back to his phaeton. “Would you please desist from practically shoving me into the marquis’s pocket? It’s humiliating!”
    “Nonsense, darling. The man is as pleased as punch that you’ll keep him company tomorrow. Isn’t that so, Molly?” Mrs. Foster turned to her co-conspirator with a smile. “Wasn’t he just as sweet as can be, asking us to come along?”
    “That were the nicest thing I ever heard. An invitation from a man of his station. Can you imagine!” Molly exclaimed, wide-eyed.
    “Now we must consider your ensemble for tomorrow,” Mrs. Foster said, as though she were dresser for the queen.
    “If you don’t mind, Mama, I can very well dress myself,” Annabelle retorted heatedly.
    “My, my—my darling is in a right fine pet. One might almost think Lord Darley has struck some nerve when thou dost protest so much,” she intoned archly.
    Unable to refute her mother’s pointed appraisal when her feelings were more involved than she would have liked, Annabelle announced in what even she recognized was a thoroughly childish tone, “I’m tired. I’m going to my room.” And she flounced off with the dramatic consequence of the premier actress of Drury Theater.
    In contrast, Duff sang softly under his breath all the way home.

Chapter
12
     
    L ord Innes entered White’s gaming room, surveyed the crowd, and found the man he’d come to see. Walking up behind Walingame, he watched the play for only a few seconds before tapping him on the shoulder.
    Glancing back, Walingame grunted, “Later, Dougal. Can’t you see I’m winning?”
    “I saw her.”
    Walingame spun around in his chair and held his friend’s gaze. “Are you sure?”
    “Yesterday at Whiting Hill track. With Duff.”
    Walingame tossed his cards on the table, muttered, “I’m out,” and without a backward glance at his sizeable stack of markers, came to his feet and propelled his friend from the room.
    “Tell me everything,” Walingame growled as the two men stood in the quiet corridor outside. “I want to know what she looked like, what she said—did you speak to her? Was she really there with that fucking cunthound ? I want to know every detail,” he snarled.
    “She looked