Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Regan did not see Mr. Cranmer at breakfast, mostly due to the fact that she did not leave her room to go down to join everyone else in the dining room.

It was cowardly of her, she knew. But the previous night had been a restless one as she'd predicted, and she did not think herself in a fine enough state - either mentally or physically - to put on her morning gown and pretend as if nothing at all had altered while she dipped the corners of her toast into a soft-boiled egg.

And she simply could not face Mr. Cranmer. Not yet. At least not until she had a better grasp on the tumult of emotions currently coursing through her. Guilt, of course. And then frustration at herself for feeling guilty when - in the eyes of more polite society - she had done little wrong. She was a widow, and had been for years. Her husband's name and inheritance was secure through her son. It was not at all uncommon for a woman in her position to take on a lover, so long as she did not flaunt it about for all to see.

But of course she felt guilty. Hadn't she always told herself that there would be no one else after Edmund? That she could not contemplate falling in love... No, she shook her head at that. It could not be love. Lust, then? Oh, without a doubt. Edmund had been gone for seven years. In that time, there had been no one else, not even a glance sent in the direction of another man. No wonder Mr. Cranmer had been able to transform her into a quivering mess with a deft stroke of his fingers.

But why him? Had she been so cloistered from all society that it only took the first gentleman to show her any attention to have her wishing that perhaps... perhaps she hadn't gone and left the library so hastily the previous night?

If that were true, though, then the attention she received from Lord Hays should have had her swaying beneath his spell as well. However, it was only Mr. Cranmer she thought of, only his touch, his kiss that had made all of her attempts at sleep a futile endeavor.

Oh, Lord in Heaven. What had come over her?

She straightened up at a light tap on the door connecting her room with Katharine's. She still wore her dressing gown, her hair an untidy mass of snarls and waves over her shoulders. She'd sent her maid away a half an hour before, claiming another headache, and had done little since but pace around the room and consider the wisdom of packing up and absconding from Lady Polmerol's only a few days after they'd arrived.

"Mama? Are you awake?"

Her daughter poked her head into the room. Katharine was fully dressed, in a simple white gown with a falling collar that accentuated the fine line of her neck. Finding her mother awake, she stepped fully into the bedroom, her nose wrinkled and brow furrowed - most likely at the state in which she'd discovered her mother. "Are you still suffering from your headache?"

"Oh, no." Regan waved a hand, unsure if Katharine referred to the false headache she'd claimed last night or the other false headache she'd claimed this morning. "Merely tired. I didn't sleep well." That much was not a lie, at least.

"Have you eaten anything?" Katharine crossed the room, towards the bell-pull near the bed. "Even some tea and toast or a cup of chocolate would help, I'm sure."

Several minutes later, a tray set between them, Regan nibbled at a piece of toast that had been heavily slathered in butter and jam.

"Tell me, Mama," Katherine began, as she stirred her cup of chocolate with a delicate silver spoon. "This house party... Is it too much for you?"

"Too much?" Regan wiped a smear of butter from her bottom lip and looked across at her daughter, at the concern folding down the edges of the young woman's face. "I don't know what you mean."