Mantheria was also looking forward to the haven of Avalon Palace, but she couldn’t leave London for at least another week.“You know we must wait and stay in Town until after your Aunt Becca’s engagement party.Don’t you wish to support her?”
“I hate London!And I hate you!”He ran to the door and slammed it closed behind him.
Mantheria got to her feet, but she decided not to follow her son as he stomped up the stairs to the nursery.Andrew merely needed to let off some steam.She was certain that he would be his normal self by supper at the very latest.Or as normal as he could be after the loss of a parent.Grief was like living in a fog.You were unable to see anything or anyone else but your own sorrow, your need to touch and talk to that person only one more time.Then the crushing guilt of choosing to continue living without them.
She touched the locket at her throat.Mantheria hadn’t been quite the same after she lost Elizabeth.Her better half.Her late identical twin.They had only been ten years old when her sister had contracted scarlet fever.Scarcely a year younger than her son was now.
The last words that she spoke to Mantheria were, “Be good and watch over our little sisters.”
Mantheria had been a wild and mischievous girl, but she’d promised her twin to be good.So she changed.And she’d done her best to watch over their three little sisters.She had tried to teach them good manners and how to behave correctly in society.The next eldest, Frederica, had ignored most of her well-meaning advice.The middle sister, Helen, had steadfastly refused any suggestions.And her youngest sister, Becca, had heeded much of what Mantheria told her, including watching her waistline.Mantheria had thought that she was helping her sister fit into Society.Only to discover days after her husband’s funeral that Becca resented her assistance.That she even felt wounded by it.Which was the last thing that Mantheria wanted.She had only wished to fulfill her promise to her dying sister, and she had failed miserably—on both counts.
She rubbed her chest with a shaky hand.Mantheria was notgood.And her attempts towatch overher sisters had led to nothing but regret.She had apologized profusely to Becca, and her sister had forgiven her, at Alexander’s deathbed request.Mantheria regretted her relationship with her late husband most of all, and in the end, he had once again rescued her from her own folly.Yet another secret she hoped to bury with Alexander.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Her butler opened the door and bowed to her.“Lord Sunderland is here to see you.Are you at home?”
Sunny.
Mantheria could use a little sunshine right now.Her clothes and her thoughts were dark.And she felt weak and numb.“Yes.Please send him in, McDowell.”
Her butler bowed once more before leaving the room.Mantheria got to her feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in her black dotted gown.She was standing when Sunny entered the room.One pleasant thing about being a widow was that she no longer required a chaperone.Her butler closed the door behind him, and she was alone with her old friend and childhood love.
He strode toward her with his hands outstretched.She eagerly met him and felt comforted when he squeezed her fingers tightly.“My poor friend.What a miserable time this must have been for you.I nearly brought you flowers, but it appears that you already have all the blooms from Covent Garden.”
Mantheria laughed—something she would have thought impossible only moments before.But glancing over her shoulder at all of the flower offerings that covered every table in the room, she had to admit that Sunny had a point.She gave his hands one last squeeze before releasing them and gesturing to the flowers on the closest table.“Oh, Sunny, if you’d read the cards that came with them, you would have laughed yourself to stitches.They all start with condolences on the loss of my late husband, next they compliment my great beauty, and finally they declare their interest in courting me.”She snorted.“As if I would rush to wed again after making a complete muddle of my first marriage.”
The expression on Sunny’s face was rather queer, and he rubbed his coat pocket where his quizzing glass usually was stowed.“Just so.”
Furrowing her brow, Mantheria was certain that her dear friend didn’t understand how funny and foolish the men who gave her flowers were.“Lord Exum even sent a poem.Shall I read it to you?”
Sunny’s smile returned, and he said brightly, “I think I might die of curiosity if you don’t.”
Her own lips twitched upward.This was the friend that she needed during this difficult time.She picked up the card from the much-indebted Lord Exum and read:
A dark shadow has crossed your lovely face.
Your husband is gone, but I could take his place.
A woman of your beauty should not be alone.
I would be pleased to call you my own.
Mantheria chuckled again.“Isn’t it positively dreadful?”
Her old friend smirked back at her.“Nonsense.It’s a poetic masterpiece.I am shocked that it didn’t move you to tears.”
“It did,” she assured him.“Tears of laughter, that is.”
One side of his mouth quirked up.“The vultures are already circling you, my dear.I am sorrier than I can say, for the loss of your son’s father and the thoughtless behavior of my fellow peers.”
“Truly, I feel all the better for seeing you.Won’t you sit down?”
Sunny sat down beside her on the sofa, almost as close to her as Andrew had been.Usually, a guest would not share the same seat, but since they were such old friends, it didn’t matter.He gently took her hand in his and held it lightly on his knee.Mantheria blinked in surprise but reassured herself that her friend was merely attempting to comfort her.And even though most of her misery was her fault, she was grateful for his support.
“How is Andrew?”