but too easily Mrs. Hark made things uncomfortable.
"You'll be their most favorite auntie, no doubt. And I daresay, it won't be long before the two of ye are hunting gifts for yer own pack o'little ones."
Miss Meriwether went instantly scarlet and the older woman cackled with glee. Apparently she thought it was great fun to mortify the young bride, but Myserleigh knew he'd best redirect the conversation before Miss Meriwether damaged herself by setting the old woman straight. After all, as far as Myserleigh was concerned, Mrs. Hark was entirely accurate in her prediction.
He moved to Miss Meriwether's side and tried to distract her with the warm, fragrant food.
"What do you say, my dear?" he remarked, possibly a bit louder than necessary, just in case Miss Meriwether had been planning to pipe up with any nonsense about her not being his wife. "A fine breakfast like this is just what we need to get us started on our day."
She was too polite to disregard the woman's kind offering long enough to correct her.
"Oh... yes, it looks lovely. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hark. I really am quite ravenous today, I'm afraid."
"I don't care what the fashionable folk say. A healthy appetite is a good thing for a young lady," the woman said, approving.
Miss Meriwether was not to be deterred from telling the truth, however.
"Still, I think I ought to inform you that—"
Myserleigh leapt into the fray, deftly taking possession of the subject and shifting it just in the nick of time. "That we are hoping you might help us with a matter of urgent importance."
Miss Meriwether glared at him, but he continued, undaunted.
"My brother-in-law, you see, is not doing very well."
Mrs. Hark was instantly captivated. "Yes, so my dear Basil informed me. An infection, he says?"
"Sadly, yes."
Mrs. Hark was eager for details and Myserleigh was only too happy to oblige. Miss Meriwether could do nothing but take the tray from him and set up an eating area, her opportunity for incriminating herself gone and—for now, at least—her reputation perfectly intact. She seemed slightly put out over it, but Myserleigh could not regret interrupting her.
"So you told Basil, I believe, that your brother-in-law took a tumble from a horse?" Mrs. Hark asked.
Myserleigh was happy to explain further. "He was hunting with a party two months ago. Bexley's horse took a tumble and he went head over tails, landing hard and fracturing his ankle."
Mrs. Hark tsked. "Bones. Tricky devils, they are."
"For a time he seemed to be doing well, by all accounts," Myserleigh continued. "I thought the man well on his way to full recovery when I received my sister's letter just two days ago. Sadly, she said the infection set in and her husband was quite overset by it."
"Fever?"
"Yes, very high, I believe. Estelle was cautious not to share the full depth of her concern, but I could see in her writing that she is overly worried for him. Her letters to Miss... to Carole... also expressed similar concern."
Miss Meriwether had obviously been listening and now cared more for Bexley's health than for his presumptuous use of her first name.
" His poor wife," she added with clear concern. "Is all nerves over his condition. It must be quite dire, I'm afraid."
"I know it would take something severe to keep Bexley down," Myserleigh admitted, realizing even as he spoke that the fears he'd let linger in the back of his mind were entirely too well-founded.
A look into Mrs. Hark's knowing hazel eyes confirmed his concerns. She worried her lip and nodded slowly, considering all they had told her.
"I can help ye," she said. "Sit down, enjoy yer breakfast and I'll make up a cure. Won't take but a moment."
They thanked her profusely and she was off, back to her lair or wherever it was she conjured her magical potions. Myserleigh could only pray the magic would be strong enough to save John Bexley. He couldn't bear to think how his sister would suffer if it was already too late for the
"You'll be their most favorite auntie, no doubt. And I daresay, it won't be long before the two of ye are hunting gifts for yer own pack o'little ones."
Miss Meriwether went instantly scarlet and the older woman cackled with glee. Apparently she thought it was great fun to mortify the young bride, but Myserleigh knew he'd best redirect the conversation before Miss Meriwether damaged herself by setting the old woman straight. After all, as far as Myserleigh was concerned, Mrs. Hark was entirely accurate in her prediction.
He moved to Miss Meriwether's side and tried to distract her with the warm, fragrant food.
"What do you say, my dear?" he remarked, possibly a bit louder than necessary, just in case Miss Meriwether had been planning to pipe up with any nonsense about her not being his wife. "A fine breakfast like this is just what we need to get us started on our day."
She was too polite to disregard the woman's kind offering long enough to correct her.
"Oh... yes, it looks lovely. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hark. I really am quite ravenous today, I'm afraid."
"I don't care what the fashionable folk say. A healthy appetite is a good thing for a young lady," the woman said, approving.
Miss Meriwether was not to be deterred from telling the truth, however.
"Still, I think I ought to inform you that—"
Myserleigh leapt into the fray, deftly taking possession of the subject and shifting it just in the nick of time. "That we are hoping you might help us with a matter of urgent importance."
Miss Meriwether glared at him, but he continued, undaunted.
"My brother-in-law, you see, is not doing very well."
Mrs. Hark was instantly captivated. "Yes, so my dear Basil informed me. An infection, he says?"
"Sadly, yes."
Mrs. Hark was eager for details and Myserleigh was only too happy to oblige. Miss Meriwether could do nothing but take the tray from him and set up an eating area, her opportunity for incriminating herself gone and—for now, at least—her reputation perfectly intact. She seemed slightly put out over it, but Myserleigh could not regret interrupting her.
"So you told Basil, I believe, that your brother-in-law took a tumble from a horse?" Mrs. Hark asked.
Myserleigh was happy to explain further. "He was hunting with a party two months ago. Bexley's horse took a tumble and he went head over tails, landing hard and fracturing his ankle."
Mrs. Hark tsked. "Bones. Tricky devils, they are."
"For a time he seemed to be doing well, by all accounts," Myserleigh continued. "I thought the man well on his way to full recovery when I received my sister's letter just two days ago. Sadly, she said the infection set in and her husband was quite overset by it."
"Fever?"
"Yes, very high, I believe. Estelle was cautious not to share the full depth of her concern, but I could see in her writing that she is overly worried for him. Her letters to Miss... to Carole... also expressed similar concern."
Miss Meriwether had obviously been listening and now cared more for Bexley's health than for his presumptuous use of her first name.
" His poor wife," she added with clear concern. "Is all nerves over his condition. It must be quite dire, I'm afraid."
"I know it would take something severe to keep Bexley down," Myserleigh admitted, realizing even as he spoke that the fears he'd let linger in the back of his mind were entirely too well-founded.
A look into Mrs. Hark's knowing hazel eyes confirmed his concerns. She worried her lip and nodded slowly, considering all they had told her.
"I can help ye," she said. "Sit down, enjoy yer breakfast and I'll make up a cure. Won't take but a moment."
They thanked her profusely and she was off, back to her lair or wherever it was she conjured her magical potions. Myserleigh could only pray the magic would be strong enough to save John Bexley. He couldn't bear to think how his sister would suffer if it was already too late for the
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