A Kiss for Lady Mary by Ella Quinn

he’s got a horse. Interestin’ thing, though. He asked what your plans with your wife are. Last I heered, you ain’t got one.”
    Irritation flared through Kit. He wanted to shout out loud that he did not have a wife, but he had the distinct impression that if he renounced her, word would travel and the entire town would rise up against him. Unless, that was, Dent had already let the cat out of the bag. “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”
    “Nah, said my master don’t talk about his private doings to me.” Dent speared Kit with the same glare the groom had turned on him when, as a child, he’d attempted to jump his pony over too high a wall. “Ye goin’ to tell me what’s goin’ on?”
    Kit could barely stop himself from spearing his fingers through his hair. “Yes, but not here. Do you know the way to the house?”
    “My memory ain’t failed me yet. I remember the road.”
    “Then tell me we have a wheeler.”
    “Aye, we got one, and he’ll see the other gets shod. Gimme a minute and I’ll tell the smithy.”
    “Good.” One problem was settled. The sooner he got his conversation with his impostor of a wife over with, the better. “Let’s go.”
    As Kit was about ready to climb into his curricle, a gentleman who looked to be in his late forties approached.
    “Good day to you, sir,” the stranger said.
    Kit put his foot back on the ground. “A good day to you . May I help you?”
    The man had a pleasant smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Mr. Doust, the rector. I understand you are Mr. Featherton of Rose Hill.”
    Doust. That name sounded familiar. Nevertheless, Kit did not want or like the interference. He inclined his head. “I am, sir, and I am anxious to reach my home. It has been a long journey.”
    “I was just on my way there. I shall do myself the honor of showing you the way.”
    The hell he would. “I’m sure I can find it without assistance.”
    “No problem at all.” A young boy brought over a mare. “You see? My horse is already saddled. I’ll not delay you at all.” The rector put his foot in the stirrup. “We are very protective of our ladies at Rose Hill. Lady Eunice and Lady Mary, your wife”—the man paused as if waiting for Kit’s response, then nodded—“have done a great deal for the town and your dependents. I don’t believe the estate has ever been in better shape.”
    “Have they indeed?” Two females ? There were two of them? No matter. They had probably done nothing more than knit scarves for the poor. “I’m sure the credit is due to my steward, Mr. Stuttart.”
    Which was deuced odd as it was.
    Doust raised one brow. “I would have thought you knew that Mr. Stuttart has been ill since last summer. In fact, if it weren’t for Lady Mary, he would probably have died. He is only now on the mend.”
    “Indeed.” How else could Kit respond? Whatever the devil had been going on at Rose Hill, he’d better get to the bottom of it. “Let us be on our way.”
    He climbed into his curricle, while the rector mounted his horse. A deuced fine one at that. Doust, horses. Damn, that was the Earl of Marnly’s family name. No wonder the rector had a sweet goer. The family bred some of the best horseflesh in the kingdom.
    Ten minutes later, they turned off the main road and onto a well-maintained drive. The windows of the old sandstone house sparkled in the sun. Roses in pink and red climbed in an orderly fashion up the building. Kit noticed that the high stone wall at the entrance was in good condition, as well. He had to admit that the adventuress had maintained the property well, but if she thought to continue passing herself off as his wife, that was another matter entirely.
    The front door opened as he came to a stop. Even the knocker gleamed. He tried not to clench his jaw as the rector came up beside him, a moment later, as they climbed the shallow stairs.
    A servant—the butler, he assumed—bowed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Doust.