“It will be no hardship.”
Hugo imagined Miss Bennett was a lady brimming with grace and decorum. Perhaps in that regard they were unsuited. Then again, he was like a hawk assessing its prey when it came to looking for a reason not to wed.
“The fact my mother is in residence should suffice,” he continued. “You’ve no need to be shackled at the wrists. And I can arrange for a maid to share your bedchamber.”
Good Lord. It sounded as if he were desperate for her company. Next, he’d offer to wrap her in furs from the far reaches of Prussia. To pour her a milk bath infused with cloves and honey.
“Even so,” she said with a sigh. “I would rather you spoke to your mother.”
As if summoned by thought alone, the Countess of Denham came gliding out into the hall.
“There you are, Hugo. I thought I heard voices.” His mother took one look at Miss Bennett’s tousled locks and scowled. “The servants’ entrance is to the rear, girl.” She pointed to the growing puddle. “And look at the mess you’ve made on the parquet.”
“Miss Bennett is not a servant, Mother.”
Rather than appear offended, Miss Bennett smiled. She offered his mother a demure curtsey. “Good evening, my lady. I am Miss Lara Bennett. Granddaughter of Lord Forsyth. My carriage is stuck in the snow, and I made my way here hoping to find direction.”
“Forsyth?” His mother’s face turned ashen. She stood staring as uncomfortable seconds ticked by. “Did you say Lord Forsyth?”
“I did. Are you acquainted with my grandfather?”
“M-Montague?”
“Indeed.”
“Good heavens.” Penelope put her hand to her heart and gawped at Miss Bennett. “Your grandfather is Montague Forsyth? The Montague Forsyth?”
“Yes.”
And with that, the Countess of Denham swooned.
Chapter Two
While Lara considered herself a worldly woman of three-and-twenty, she had never seen a person faint. It happened so quickly. In a matter of seconds, the countess’ scowl slipped from her face as fast as she fell to the floor. The poor woman would have hit the deck like a cannonball slithering through greasy fingers had the earl not rushed forward to catch her.
“Good Lord, Mother!” The earl crouched at the lady’s side, one muscular arm supporting her head.
Lara dropped to her knees and pressed the back of her hand to Lady Denham’s brow. “She feels rather hot. But then I don’t suppose you’ve been able to open a window.” Judging by the heavy smell of smoke in the air, Lara would lay odds that every fire in the house blazed.
“Fetch some water, Crudging,” the earl barked.
Lara glanced up at the butler. “And a square of linen.”
“Mother, can you hear me?”
“Perhaps we should move her somewhere more comfortable,” Lara said upon hearing the lively hum of chatter coming from the room to their right. “I doubt she would want her guests to see her in such a fragile state.”
The earl looked at Lara directly. He had the most remarkable blue eyes, so remarkable one could not help but stop and stare. She imagined that when he laughed, they were like the bright hue of cornflowers in the height of summer. But winter was here, and there was no mistaking the icy chill of despair.
“You’re right. How perceptive of you, Miss Bennett. When it comes to my mother, opinion is everything.” The earl glanced back over his shoulder. “Where on earth is Crudging?”
“I can help you carry her.”
Lady Denham was of slender frame. The earl looked strong enough to carry two grown men, and Lara had lost count of the times she’d helped her grandfather to bed after a heavy night drinking port.
Lord Denham nodded. “If you could take her legs, we’ll move her to my study. Perhaps a nip of brandy will bring her round.”
Together they carried Lady Denham into the room across the hall and lowered her gently down onto the chaise. Fearing it was too hot near the fire, they dragged the sofa closer to the window.