She glided up to him and put a hand on his arm. “You poor dear,” she said.
Fletch blinked. To this point, his mother-in-law had always treated him with the same regard with which she regarded every gentleman: as if he were a slightly more gilded version of a manservant.
“I feel responsible,” she cooed. Yes! It was a coo. Fletch ground his back teeth and didn’t shift backwards, as was his instinct. “I obviously failed in raising my daughter, and through that, I failed you. I have been in the greatest agony of mind for an hour; you must understand, the agony of a mother’s heart is like no other.”
Fletch opened his mouth but her lovely lips just kept moving.
“Then I realized that there is only one person in the world who can solve this dilemma, who can make up for the extraordinary behavior of my daughter”—and for a moment Fletch saw her blue eyes harden into something like glass—“and assuage my own overwhelming sense of guilt. I shall stand by your side, Your Grace, I shall not desert you, even though my daughter has done so. I—”
Fletch cleared his throat. “Lady Flora, I have every confidence that my wife will return to the house by nightfall; there is no need to put yourself into such anxiety.”
“I only wish that were the case,” she cried, her voice rising a little. “Yet I must admit that I know Perdita better than you do. She is nothing if not amenable—until she—”
Fletch caught the flash of Lady Flora’s white teeth. “She had it from my late husband, may God rest his soul,” Lady Flora said. “I very much doubt that Poppy will return to your house, Your Grace.”
“Of course she will!” Fletch growled, moving backwards so that her hand fell from his sleeve. “Now if you will allow me, madam, I will ask Quince to accompany you to your house himself, since you are distressed.”
She smiled at him as if she hadn’t heard him. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll speak to the house keeper and get everything under control immediately. I won’t have you discomforted in the slightest by this absurd flight on the part of my daughter!”
There wasn’t even a twitch in her eye to admit that there was something incongruous about a mother offering to replace a daughter. The only thing Fletch could imagine was that Lady Flora, like her daughter, was the sort of person who never thought of bedroom matters.
Fletch’s only thought was of flight. “I do apologize, Lady Flora. I am due at an urgent appointment.”
She smiled at him with all the warmth of a ravening tiger. “Do make yourself comfortable wherever you wish to go. Everything will be in order for you in this house.”
Sure enough, she turned away and began barking at Quince about house keeping and menus and her maid and sheets. It was amazing how quickly her smooth tone peeled away when she addressed a servant.
“Oh, Your Grace!” she carrolled, as a footman was opening the door.
He turned back to her once more.
“Do give my best to my daughter, should you happen to speak to her.”
Fletch bowed. The funny thing was that Lady Flora’s hair was a still vibrant golden color; it didn’t look as if it were made of snakes. But surely…
His butler bowed by the door, holding out the coat he had just taken off. “Quince,” he said, pausing, “who was that goddess whose hair was made of snakes?”
“Medusa, Your Grace,” Quince said. “One glimpse at her hair and a man was struck to stone.”
“Just so,” Fletch said thoughtfully, heading toward his carriage. Poppy would understand that she had to come home.
Chapter 14
May 1