Page 20 of His One and Only Lady

Gasping, she sputtered, “You…you…evil…conniving…lowborn…slattern.”

With a hand on the banister and one foot on the first riser, Purity slowly pivoted.

Had Miss Sommerville run to catch up with her?

Her nose an unbecoming mottled red, tears streamed from Miss Sommerville’s equally inflamed eyes. She raised a shaking finger and stabbed it toward Purity.

Purity planted both feet on the floor and braced herself for a verbal barrage.

“Theran was to have been my husband.” Gown lifted to mid-calf, Miss Sommerville stomped forward, seemingly oblivious to the pair of women rounding the corner and stopping in their tracks. “We were neighbors for years. Then Mother married Poindexter Bambrick, and Theran met Imogene.”

She spat the name with such malice a shiver scuttled across Purity’s shoulders.

The ladies exchanged a disconcerted glance, apparently uncertain whether to proceed or retreat.

“Before he met my stepsister and she stole him from me, Theran was to have been mine!” Miss Sommerville practically ground her teeth in vexation. “I’ve waited years—years—and in a few minutes, you unrefined trollop, you’ve ruined everything.”

Her voice rose to the ceiling in a demented shriek.

No, her deranged dream had ended when Mr. Rutland married her stepsister. Something, apparently, Miss Sommerville still raged over.

Turning cold glances upon Miss Sommerville, the ladies stood their ground.

Purity had the distinct impression that they did so to protect her.

“I did not threaten a child, Miss Sommerville, nor slap her in the face. You wish to blame me, but your actions alone have led you to this unfortunate juncture.”

Purity was having a day of speaking her mind, it seemed.

Miss Sommerville took a menacing step nearer, her face contorted in such hatred that Purity took an involuntary step backward, coming up against the stairs.

“You shall pay, Purity Mayfield. I vow, if it is the last thing I do, I shall make you pay.”

A visit to Trenthurst House is long overdue, Theran. I haven’t seen Bernadine in nearly six months. I miss my only granddaughter. I’m not getting any younger, as you well know. We can celebrate her birthday as well as the birth of Jordan’s third child.

Violetta’s time grows near. Your brother would never admit it, but he’s fraught with worry. Your presence would do him good. Raymond is at sea, but his last letter said he may return to England within the month. If so, I shall have my entire family together for the first time in two years.

Please do say you’ll come, dearest. We miss you and darling Bernadine. Violetta has hired another nurse, so there is no need for you to bring Athena. You know Violetta cannot stand her.

Oh, and do give Melvelia and Herbert my love. I sent a note along with my regrets for missing this year’s house party. I’m confident they understood that Violetta cannot travel due to her lying in, and naturally, I must be at her side.

~Mrs. Celena Rutland,

in a letter to her youngest son, Theran Rutland

Mottford Hall

Half-past eleven two evenings later

Theran released a tired sigh and plowed a hand through his hair as he trudged up the last few risers to the nursery level. He’d untied his neckcloth and unbuttoned his coat in preparation of retiring shortly.

At this hour, Bernadine would be fast asleep. Nevertheless, habits die hard. Every night that they’d slept under the same roof since Imogene’s death, he’d kissed their daughter good night and told her how much her parents loved her.

Bernadine had no memories of her mother. She knew the beautiful red-haired lady wearing the golden gown in the portrait above the fireplace in the drawing room was her mama. Still, Bernadine had been an infant when Imogene had died.

Theran told her stories about Imogene and did his utmost to convey how much she’d loved Bernadine.

Was it enough?