“You’ve never hosted one before?” Petra was astonished.

“I’ve never had a hostess before,” he pointed out. “A man needs a wife, an accomplished wife, I might add, to manage such an event.”

“Mmm. A mistress won’t do, I suppose.”

“No,” he agreed. “But there are many other events where they can be useful.” He laughed, seeing her expression. “My love, if you insist on provocation, you must expect to have it answered.”

Petra sighed. “I suppose so.” She flopped into a deep armchair in the drawing room. “Will you ring for tea?”

Guy did so before saying, “What’s this about going to Weston on Wednesday?”

“Oh.” Petra considered for a minute. “I hadn’t planned on doing so until I heard myself say it. But yes, I am going for the day. I love it there and it’s been over a year since I walked along the sands. It was always one of Joth’s and my favorite days out when we were children.” She hesitated a moment, before saying, “I need some time to myself, Guy. I have a lot to think about . . . priorities,” she added with a vague gesture.

“Two heads wouldn’t be better for that?”

Petra shook her head and said again, “I need to spend some time with myself.”

“Perhaps we could both benefit from the time without distraction to work on what we consider important,” Guy responded, his tone now cool and impersonal.

Petra was saved from a response by the arrival of the parlor maid with the tea tray.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I’ll drive you to Weston in the motor?” Guy said on Wednesday morning at the breakfast table as Petra cracked the shell on top of her boiled egg. “What time do you want to leave?”

“Oh, I don’t need to be driven,” she said quickly, sprinkling salt onto the egg. “You have things to do this morning. Besides, I’d like to drive myself in the gig. It’s only a few miles.”

There was a moment’s silence before he said, “As you wish. But you must take a groom with you.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” she stated, determined not to give in on this issue. “I am quite capable of driving a gig alone. I’ll leave it with the pony in the stable at the Ship Inn. They know me there.”

Guy wondered if it was worth a fight. It was one he would win, because his servants would not disobey his direct orders, but he suspected it would be a Pyrrhic victory.

“May I ask then that you be home by midafternoon?”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because I will be concerned for your safety,” he said simply. “The lanes are narrow and there’ll be more traffic later in the afternoon. Wednesday is market day in Kingston.”