Chapter Nine
Elizabeth had agreed to meet Griffin again tomorrow morning, weather permitting. He was a gifted mime, and delighted in the acquisition of each new word or phrase. He also had a larger English vocabulary than Elizabeth had initially suspected, having heard the language for much of his life. He’d simply been hesitant to test what he knew before others.
The St. Davids doubtless had as much pride as the Windhams.
Elizabeth looked forward to tomorrow’s outing. Griffin was joyous company, albeit not in the common way, and—
A subtle concussion reverberated beneath her feet. Her first reaction, even before her mind assigned a source to the sensations, was panic.
Damn Lord Allermain for a scoundrel. There was no need to be fearful of a pair of fellows having an impromptu steeplechase along the river’s edge. As the horsemen drew closer, Elizabeth’s momentary upset turned to pleasurable anticipation.
Haverford and Radnor drew rein ten yards in front of her, their horses’ sides heaving, the duke’s hair windblown.
“Your Grace,” Elizabeth said, dipping a curtsy. “Lord Radnor. Good morning.”
Radnor’s mare danced sideways, as if she wanted to resume the race. She’d been a good length behind the duke’s gelding.
“Miss Windham, good day,” Haverford replied. “Shall we walk with you?”
What would it be like, to welcome him with a kiss after his morning ride? To ride out with him, galloping neck and neck across the countryside?
“I would enjoy the company.”
“You must forgive me,” Radnor said, touching his riding crop to the brim of his hat, “but I’m promised at the breakfast table to a certain lady. Haverford, I can take your horse if you’d like me to walk him to the stables.”
Lord Radnor was matchmaking, and for the first time in memory, Elizabeth approved of the activity.
“My thanks,” the duke said, swinging down and passing his reins to the marquess. “Good job, Rhodri.” He gave his horse a resounding pat. “There’s a carrot for you if you behave on the way home.”
“I’ll explain to Lady Glenys that she’s not to worry over either of you,” Radnor said, turning the horses in the direction of the castle. “Nor will I worry about you.”
On that cryptic remark, he trotted off, his mare pinning her ears and swishing her tail, to which the stolid Rhodri paid no mind.
“Radnor is my dearest friend in the entire world,” the duke said, taking Elizabeth’s haversack, “but sometimes, I don’t understand him.”
“That’s the essence of friendship, isn’t it? To accept somebody even when you don’t entirely grasp their reasons?” Also the essence of being a sister or a cousin, sometimes.
“One hesitates to extrapolate from Radnor to an entire class of relationships, but I will take your word on the subject.”
Elizabeth was beamishly happy to see Haverford, a sentiment His Grace apparently did not reciprocate, if his clipped diction was any indication.
“Should you be gathering your nerve to apologize for kissing me,” she said, taking her haversack back, “let me spare you the bother. I am not about to apologize for kissing you.”
She did her best to flounce away toward the formal gardens, though flouncing in half boots came off rather like stomping. The duke ruined her dignified exit by falling in step beside her and easily keeping pace with her.
“You did kiss me,” he said. “Made a proper job of it.”
“I make a proper job of most undertakings. Before I could read, I was trying to keep up with five male cousins. Charlotte had the sense to turn up her nose at the lot of us, but that only left me more determined to keep up with the boys.”
A doomed undertaking, of course.
“Lady Glenys followed your sister Charlotte’s example and left Radnor and me to our boyish nonsense, though as a very young child, she was our shadow. I have wondered if my sister wasn’t lonely, for all she disdained our company.”
Elizabeth’s steps slowed. “Have you asked her?”
“It’s too late,” Haverford said, pausing beneath the oak Griffin had dropped from earlier. His Grace peered up into the branches. “Glenys would not give me a truthful answer, lest she add to my burdens. This is a good climbing tree.”
To blazes with the oak, though it was a lovely, enormous specimen. “Are you sorry you kissed me or not?”
He wrested the blasted haversack from her, laid it on the ground beneath a hawthorn bush, and cupped his hands before him, as if he were offering to boost Elizabeth into the saddle.
“Let’s discuss last night’s encounter somewhere more private, Miss Windham.” His eyes held a dare, or maybe a wish.
One never forgot how to climb a tree. Before Elizabeth had exchanged trailing behind heedless boy cousins for the reliable companionship of books, she’d climbed hundreds of trees and got stuck in a few.
She put her booted foot into Haverford’s hands, and grabbed a sturdy branch as he hoisted her upward. The oak was huge—no sign of dry rot, lightning strikes, or disease anywhere—and Elizabeth was soon twelve feet above the ground, her back braced against the enormous trunk.
“I have met your cousins,” Haverford said, making the branches shake as he found a perch several feet away. “I cannot imagine either Lord Westhaven or Lord Valentine climbing a tree.”
“Because you were never one of five brothers,” Elizabeth said, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace of a leafy hideaway. “The oldest boy, Devlin—Rosecroft now—would climb anything, and then pride demanded that the younger boys and I clamber after. Devlin’s mischief was good for us and still is. I could not keep up with the boys, but for years, I did try.”
More tree branches shook. “I want to kiss you again.”
“Must you sound so disenchanted with that prospect? I won’t tolerate advances from a man who resents an attraction to me.” Five years ago, five days ago, Elizabeth would have been less blunt—and less sure of herself.
The rustling from His Grace’s vicinity stopped. “I do not resent an attraction to you.”
“Be still my heart.” Elizabeth managed a bored tone, while inwardly she rejoiced. His Grace was attracted to her, and she doubted he’d invited any other woman to climb a tree with him, ever.
“Miss Windham…Elizabeth, last night you took me by surprise. I haven’t been surprised for many a year.”
She opened her eyes to behold a man in the grip of bewilderment. “Neither have I. The last time I was surprised, it was to find myself being hurried from a ballroom by Lord Allermain.”
Haverford studied her, the entire tree seeming to go still with him, save for a soft rustling many feet above them.
“That presuming bounder frightened you.”
“Worse than I realized. The fear steals over me when I think how differently that night might have turned out, and then I need to find a very good book in which to bury my imagination. I had no inkling a man with whom I’d waltzed would serve me so ill.”
Haverford stretched up to grab the branch over his head. “He frightened you, and your confidence was kidnapped, even if your person came to no harm. Kissing you abducts my…makes off with all the tidy, sensible, dignified plans I’d made for myself, and I had made many. A prudent duke is a creature of forethought.”
While an unmarried woman was a creature of frustration. “Isn’t that what kisses should do? Make the rest of the world fade to insignificance and imbue a few moments with sheer wonder? I’m not an expert on the subject, but that’s how your kisses made me feel.”
What an odd, lovely conversation. The river rippled by beneath the tree, and the castle grounds spread out in green, summer abundance in every direction. The breeze held a whiff of clover, a soft counterpoint to the gleaming stone of the castle against the perfect clouds in the perfect sky.
“Parts one doesn’t mention before a lady are growing uncomfortable,” Haverford said. “Do you prefer to precede me from the tree, or shall I go first and catch you?”
“I prefer to finish this discussion.” Elizabeth would also like to climb higher into the tree, to gain more distance from the troubles awaiting her on the ground. “I’ll not trap you into matrimony, Your Grace. If your papa contracted a match for you when you were eight years old, and the lady is only now coming of age, you needn’t explain. You betrayed no one with that kiss.”
He plucked a green leaf and sent it twirling to the water babbling by below. “I told you that I would not be offering for anybody as a result of this house party. The reality is, I cannot take a wife, not now. I need heirs, as much as or more than any other titled man, but my circumstances are sorely embarrassed. My father and grandfather both spent profligately on books, maps, manuscripts, and the like. Matrimony will have to wait, possibly for some time.”
Sorely embarrassed. Not merely embarrassed or a trifle constrained for the nonce.
When a man and woman of consequence became engaged, negotiation of the marriage settlements ensued. The groom’s family was expected to contribute to the funds established, for much of that money could be inherited by the couple’s children, or by the groom himself.
No wonder His Grace hadn’t any affection for his library, if funds that might have gone to marriage settlements had instead gone to Chaucer and Boccaccio.
His Grace of Haverford was up a tree, so to speak.
“You might be surprised to learn that the Windham fortunes have not always enjoyed robust health, Your Grace, and I do not seek a marriage proposal from you.” That pronouncement sounded convincingly assured, though a corner of Elizabeth’s heart lamented. Haverford was a good man and a wonderful kisser. “I might need assistance getting to the ground.”
Haverford dropped nimbly from the tree and turned, arms extended upward. “Down you go.”
Getting out of the oak was awkward. Elizabeth hung suspended from the lower branch, and Haverford caught her about the hips, then let her slide down the length of his body. When her feet touched solid earth, he continued to hold her.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. “If you could marry, would you take a bride?”
“Of course. A duke without his duchess is a lonely fellow.”
Young men are lonely, Elizabeth. Aunt Arabella’s words rang in memory. Young men might be lonely—young women certainly were—but they didn’t admit it. Haverford was no longer young, and Elizabeth liked that about him.
“I am in want of friends,” she said, stepping back. “For the duration of this gathering, you could remedy that lack.”
Haverford gathered up Elizabeth’s haversack and looped it over his shoulder, his movements putting Elizabeth in mind of Griffin.
“I still want to kiss you, Elizabeth. Rather a lot.”
“That sentiment is mutual,” she said, setting off at a brisk pace. “But where is it written that friends can never kiss, or otherwise express their attraction to each other?”
“It ought to be written somewhere,” Haverford said, “in great bold copperplate. Kissing leads to—”
“I know where it leads, Your Grace, in the general case. The destination has been sadly unimpressive on past visits. I’d like to explore where kissing leads with you.”
“You are—”
“I am lonely too.” And doubtless bound for marriage to some charming, boring viscount with clammy hands and a tiny library.
“—quite fierce about this friendship business.” His gaze was on the castle, and Elizabeth suspected he was trying not to smile.
“I’m quite fierce about everything.” And only now coming to admit it.
“We shall be fierce friends, then, for the duration of a house party. One shudders to think what mischief—what the devil is he doing here?”
A coach and four was rattling up the drive a quarter of a mile away. The horses were all white, exactly matched for gait and height, and pulling a black coach with red wheels. A single trunk was affixed to the back, though no crest adorned the door.
“It appears you’ve a late-arriving guest.” Or a bad fairy calling on the party, based on Haverford’s expression.
“Not a guest, a problem. A most unwelcome problem.”
* * *
Radnor was nearly knocked on his arse by Lady Glenys as she stormed forth from the east tower’s servants’ stairs.
“My lady, good morning.”
“It is not a good morning, Radnor. Was it your idea to take Haverford out riding?”
Radnor fell in step beside her, which put him in mind of escorting a tempest. “If I say yes, you’ll berate me for seeing to it that His Grace got some fresh air. If I say no, then you’ll be wroth with your brother, which makes me a poor friend to him. Your archery contest came off flawlessly, so what has you in a pet today?”
“You are dodging my question.”
Not nimbly enough. “Haverford will be back soon, but he came upon a guest out walking and did what a polite host ought to do, else he would have returned with me.”
They came to a door all but hidden by the wallpaper and wainscoting. Radnor opened it, and Glenys swept through.
“I ought not to be using these staircases with you, Radnor.”
“We’ve been using the stairways and passages since we were old enough to elude our governesses and tutors. What have you planned for today?”
“A boat race. The weather is fine, the guests have had a day to rest from their travels, and no self-respecting hostess puts on a summer house party without a boat race. The gentlemen can show off their athletic skills, and the ladies can wager on their favorites.”
She barreled across the landing, then tripped and would have gone sprawling down the steps had Radnor not caught her about the waist.
“Steady, Glennie. You’ll make a very fine picture at the table with two black eyes and a chipped tooth.”
Had she lost weight? Glenys was a substantial woman, but she hung against Radnor for an instant, and he gained an impression of frailty and nervous exhaustion.
“I’m fine,” she said, straightening. “Which guest did Haverford come upon walking at such an early hour?”
Radnor put her hand on his arm and set a decorous pace down the steps. “Miss Elizabeth Windham. She looked to be enjoying a constitutional along the river. I suspect she was up early enough to enjoy the sunrise.”
Glenys unwound herself from his arm on the next landing and peered out a window that had probably begun life as an arrow slit.
“Griffin likes to walk along the river. That must be Haverford and Miss Windham in the park.”
Two figures, a man and woman, were cutting across the grass toward the castle. Radnor studied them from immediately behind Glenys, though mostly, he was sneaking a chance to inhale her perfume.
“Why do you always smell good, milady?”
She brushed a finger over the glass, getting a smudged fingertip for her efforts. “Because it perplexes you.”
“As good a reason as any, but that’s not what I meant. Other women wear perfume, and it’s pleasant enough at the start of the evening, but by the supper waltz, the scent has faded to resemble a clove compress or some other medicinal. You smell as good in the evening as you do in the morning.”
“I wear simple fragrances for that reason. They hold up. Haverford is walking rather close to Miss Windham.”
Not as close as Radnor was standing to Glenys. “He’s being a proper escort. They’re in plain view of the castle, I don’t think his virtue is at risk.” Being a loyal friend to the duke, Radnor hoped those words were in error, meaning no disrespect to the lady.
Glenys turned, arms folded. “I have a theory. You will please tell me it’s a ridiculous theory.”
What was ridiculous was the urge to kiss a woman who’d slap him for his presumption. Why, oh why, had he ever called her a pestilential plague of a pint-sized female?
“I have to hear this theory before I can discredit it.”
“I am concerned that Haverford has remained unmarried because he knows his duchess will depose me as lady of the house. He’s unwilling to see me become the spinster auntie, and thus, he hesitates, and hopes some bachelor will come along and take me off his hands.”
Glenys tried for a smile, and broke Radnor’s heart.
“This is not ridiculous,” he said, drawing her into his embrace. She kept her arms crossed for a moment, then relented and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.
“I knew it, Cedric. This entire house party, this enormous, inexcusable expense—”
“Your theory so far surpasses the bounds of ridiculousness, I must conclude the fairies have invaded your dreams. Haverford would never, ever put his duty to the succession in second place behind anything so insubstantial as fraternal regard for you. If he hasn’t married, he simply hasn’t found the right duchess.”
Radnor stroked Glenys’s hair, and for a moment, she allowed the comfort. He’d never held her like this before, never let himself pay attention to the brush of her breasts against his chest, or the fit of her contours to his body. She wasn’t as tall or as substantial as she seemed.
“This should feel awkward,” Glenys said, making no move to step back. “You’re Radnor, and I’m about to be late for breakfast.”
He stole another caress to her hair. “You wear simple fragrances because you can make them here at Haverford rather than put your brother to the expense of buying them in London.”
“That feels good. Are you seducing me, Cedric?”
No, actually, he wasn’t. “Should I be?”
Glenys moved away, down the stairs. “Julian would kill you.”
“Does that prospect please you?”
Radnor bickered with her all the way to the breakfast parlor, which seemed to restore her spirits as much as it ruined his. Nonetheless, as he seated Glenys at the head of the table, and took a place across from Lady Pembroke, some of his natural optimism reasserted itself.
He and Lady Glenys had had a moment. Not a passionate moment, not even an amorous moment, but a moment.
A precious moment, and that was progress in the very direction he longed to travel with her.
* * *
Offering to walk with Elizabeth Windham had been folly, for she was radiant in the morning. Then she’d called Julian’s bluff and climbed the oak, compelling him to do likewise. Ensconced against the sturdy trunk, she’d looked entirely comfortable and entirely too kissable.
The path across the park was visible from two sides of the castle, and worse, from the drive where Lucas Sherbourne was now sauntering forth from his coach. He’d taken that conveyance as payment for a debt from an impecunious baron and showed it off at every opportunity. Cursory examination revealed the barely painted-over crest on both doors and the boot.
“You should greet your guest,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps he hasn’t realized you have a house party in progress.”
She was so naturally poised—and such a passionate kisser.
Sherbourne always behaved himself around the ladies, but Julian didn’t want his neighbor within four counties of Elizabeth Windham.
“He brought luggage with him,” Julian said, as two footmen lowered a large black trunk from the boot. “And yet, I can assure you, he was sent no invitation.”
“Perhaps Lady Glenys extended the invitation in person, if he dwells close by.”
That was…possible. Sherbourne attended Sunday services and greeted both Julian and Glenys with unfailing cordiality in the churchyard. Glenys wasn’t privy to the details of Julian’s dealings with Sherbourne and offered him polite replies on every occasion.
“Glenys labors under the misperception that a duke’s sister is to be gracious at all times,” Julian said. “She might have invited him and neglected to tell me. The vicar will join us for dinner some evening, as will most of the dames and squires in the neighborhood. Glenys has spared me a recitation of that list, and she might have consigned Sherbourne to the same category.”
Neighbors at the table meant more expense. More inane socializing when there was work to be done.
“You should greet him civilly. Haverford is known for its hospitality.”
Julian’s own words thrown back at him, as Elizabeth marched him smartly in the direction of the drive.
Sherbourne actually patted his coach, then stood beside it, smacking his pristine gloves against his exquisitely tailored breeches. The breakfast parlor was at the back of the castle, directly over the kitchens. This display—for Sherbourne did nothing without premeditation—was likely without much audience other than servants.
“You’re right, I should goddamned greet him civilly.”
Elizabeth wound her arm through Julian’s and smiled sweetly. “You can goddamned introduce us too.”
Her foul language was offered in such friendly, polite tones, she provoked Julian to smiling. “Yes, ma’am. At once.”
For no reason Julian could bear to examine, having Elizabeth at his side fortified him for the ordeal of welcoming Sherbourne. He did not hate Sherbourne, any more than he hated adders. Adders behaved according to the laws of nature. Those laws dictated that Griffin might be bitten while out rambling some evening and made very ill as a result.
When fevered, Griffin tended to seizures, and seizures could be fatal. Julian might kill an adder frequenting paths Griffin favored, but he would not hate the adder for being true to its nature.
“Sherbourne, good day,” Julian said, “and welcome to Haverford Castle.” To what do we owe the pleasure of this invasion?
“Your Grace, good morning,” Sherbourne replied, bowing nominally. “May I congratulate you on holding a house party when the weather is so fine? Won’t you introduce me to your companion?”
Julian put his hands behind his back when he wanted to slip an arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “Miss Elizabeth Windham, may I make known to you my neighbor, Mr. Lucas Sherbourne. Sherbourne, Miss Windham is a friend of the family, and our guest for the duration of the gathering.”
She dipped a graceful curtsy while Sherbourne took her bare hand in his.
“Mr. Sherbourne, a pleasure,” she said. “You will be desolated to learn that you’ve missed yesterday’s archery tournament, where my sister Charlotte quite distinguished herself.”
“Perhaps you’ll introduce me to your sister at breakfast? I am something of a marksman with my bow, and would have enjoyed the tournament.”
Sherbourne was a predator, and his arrow of choice was a bank draft, aimed where it would buy him the most influence and create the most misery. Even he should have known that introductions were the province of the host and hostess, though.
“Oh, my gracious,” Elizabeth called to the footmen wrestling the trunk. “You fellows can’t mean to haul that right through the front door, can you?”
They set the trunk down and shot Sherbourne an uncertain look.
“You heard the lady,” Sherbourne said, waving his gloves. “Not through the front door.”
The next look was exchanged between the footmen, both of whom wore Sherbourne’s livery. Clearly, neither they nor Sherbourne grasped exactly how the luggage was to get into the castle. A small slip, but made before a lady, and inordinately gratifying to Julian.
“Around to the side,” Elizabeth said. “The service entrance faces the stables, though if Mr. Sherbourne has a small valise, one of you may hand it to the first footman or butler once His Grace has escorted his guest from the drive. The house staff will see that the valise is brought up to Mr. Sherbourne’s room immediately.”
The footmen tugged a forelock in Elizabeth’s direction before heaving the trunk onto the back of the carriage.
“One must be patient with staff,” Elizabeth said. “House parties are a challenge all around, don’t you agree, Mr. Sherbourne?” She sent him a good-natured smile, and Julian wanted to howl.
Sherbourne smiled back. Glenys referred to him as a handsome devil, though she knew not how literal her description was.
“You have the right of it, ma’am,” Sherbourne said. “House parties can be an endless challenge, but a great diversion as well. Might I escort you into the house?”
Another blunder, for the host was on hand to perform that office.
“Haverford has kindly extended me his escort for my morning constitutional,” Elizabeth said, tucking her hand around Julian’s arm, “but perhaps you’d carry my haversack, Mr. Sherbourne? I’m sure the other guests are still at breakfast, and Lady Glenys will be relieved to know the last of the company has arrived.”
Julian passed over the haversack, and by exercise of monumental self-discipline, refrained from sticking his tongue out at Sherbourne. Elizabeth was simply being a lady, the niece and granddaughter of dukes, and her manner was honestly friendly.
Sherbourne took the proffered haversack and idled along on Elizabeth’s other side as Julian led her into the house. She made small talk with the effortless charm of one to the manor born, charm Julian had misplaced twenty thousand pounds ago where Sherbourne was concerned.
When Elizabeth led Sherbourne into the breakfast parlor, every guest in attendance looked to be seated at the table, even Cousin Hugh. Conversation drifted to a halt, and Sherbourne’s slight smile said he enjoyed disrupting his social superiors at their leisure.
“Sherbourne,” Radnor said. “Good day. Have you come by for tea and toast?”
All eyes turned to Glenys whose expression would have done credit to a hind pursued by a pack in full cry.
“You are mistaken, my lord,” Elizabeth said. “The last of Haverford’s guests has arrived, and I had the great good fortune to be introduced to Mr. Sherbourne the moment he alighted in the drive. He accounts himself something of a marksman, but I wonder how well he’ll acquit himself at the oars.”
“Is the boat race today?” Haldale asked. “Lovely weather for it.”
“Lovely day for a drubbing, you mean,” Windstruther retorted. “I was captain of my team for three years at university.”
Good-natured taunts and wagers soon joined the clatter of porcelain and requests for more tea. Elizabeth asked Sherbourne to sit beside her, and was drawing him into the general conversation, while Julian took his place beside Glenys.
“Did you invite him?” Julian murmured as Glenys poured him a cup of tea.
“I would never—I would never have done so on purpose,” she said, dropping in a lump of sugar and stirring. A slosh of tea spilled over onto the saucer.
Julian added cream, a luxury he usually denied himself. “Did you invite him by accident, perhaps?”
“Perhaps. The topic of the house party came up after services one week. I’d forgotten the conversation, but Mr. Sherbourne apparently took it for an invitation. I haven’t a bedroom made up.”
“Put him down the corridor from my quarters in the family wing. The rooms are comfortable, and I’d prefer that Sherbourne be where I can keep an eye on him if I must have him underfoot.”
Halfway up the table, Charlotte Windham was challenging Sherbourne to an archery contest, and Cousin Delphine’s eyes had acquired an avaricious gleam.
Sherbourne, though, was bent close to Elizabeth, his expression entirely, genuinely charmed.
Julian took a sip of his tea, scalded his tongue, and nearly hurled his teacup at Sherbourne’s handsome head.
* * *
Elizabeth had left Mr. Sherbourne in Charlotte’s care—her gunsights, more like—and was intent on changing into a day dress when Lady Glenys overtook her on the stairs.
“Thank you,” her ladyship said. “I was completely taken aback by Sherbourne’s arrival. Haverford is unhappy with me, but I might well have left Mr. Sherbourne with the impression that he was welcome. I was at a loss, and I’m in your debt.”
Her ladyship was slightly out of breath, and the watch pinned to her bodice was at an odd angle. Watches kept time best if they hung straight, but nobody thought to provide women a watch pocket for that purpose.
“You are not in my debt,” Elizabeth said. “I was simply being polite and reciprocating the hospitality you and His Grace have shown me. Come help me choose suitable attire for admiring the company’s oarsmen.”
Lady Glenys peered at the watch. “I really ought to confer with my cook. She’s growing temperamental, and I can’t—”
“Do not indulge the tantrums of your senior staff,” Elizabeth said, linking arms with Lady Glenys. “My mama and my aunt swear that only encourages more dramatics. You pay the woman a handsome salary, she’s had weeks to prepare for this gathering, and nobody expects more than typical fare in larger quantities. Tell me about Sherbourne.”
For that was the real reason Elizabeth wanted a moment with her hostess. Haverford loathed the man, and to loathe a neighbor was never convenient.
“Lucas Sherbourne is wealthy,” Lady Glenys said. “His family bought our original dower house back in German George’s day, and there was some talk of great-grandparents marrying, or grandparents. Haverford would know.”
They rounded the turn in the stairs, the sounds from the lower floors fading. “The dower house must be quite close to the castle.”
“Two miles or so across the fields. When did this wing acquire so many stairs?”
“Probably three hundred years ago.” Haverford’s circumstances were sorely embarrassed and Sherbourne was wealthy. Elizabeth didn’t think that alone would cause Haverford’s antipathy toward his neighbor.
They reached Elizabeth’s room, which had a good view of the lake.
“If you set up the tents on the far side of the lake,” Elizabeth said, “the breeze will carry the stable flies away from the party rather than straight to it. Then too, we’ll have shade over there.”
Glenys wrinkled her nose. “Flies?”
“Nasty creatures. Remind the ladies to take their fans.”
“Have you managed a house party before?”
“My mother certainly has, my aunt has, and as the eldest daughter in my family, I’ve been their right hand. Which do you prefer, the blue or the green?”
Elizabeth had opened the wardrobe, where a rainbow of dresses hung on a series of hooks. The whole smelled of lavender, and beneath each dress sat a pair of matching slippers.
“For you, the green, though it would look less attractive on me. Do you think Mr. Sherbourne is handsome?”
Elizabeth laid the green dress, one of her favorites, on the bed. “He’s attractive, if a lady favors a fair countenance.”
Mr. Sherbourne was a tall, broad-shouldered exponent of good Saxon breeding, with blond hair brushed back from a high forehead, even features, keen blue eyes, and good teeth. Despite his size, he dressed in the latest fashion, had fine table manners, and smelled faintly of bay rum.
All in all, he was a little too perfect, a little too much the picture of a fine gentleman.
“You should have a seat, Lady Glenys. My mama claims that during a house party, the hostess should sit and use the necessary every chance she gets. Half boots today, I think.”
Her ladyship subsided onto the bed. “Your mama sounds very sensible. I barely recall mine. Haverford says she liked to laugh and was mad for my papa. They were second cousins, and she was a St. David even before he married her.”
Such wistfulness. “My parents are like that, mad for each other.” Elizabeth sat on the bed, and gave Lady Glenys her back. “If you’d oblige?”
When Elizabeth’s hooks had been undone, she took the green dress with her behind the privacy screen.
“Will you bet on Lord Radnor’s boat to win today?” she asked.
“Radnor? Half the ladies present will bet on him. Radnor has charm, Haverford has gravitas, and I have aching feet.”
Elizabeth shimmied and the dress settled around her like a benediction. Everything about this frock was just right—the drape, the cut, the weight and swish of the fabric, the color. She was pretty in this outfit, confident, comfortable, and a bit out of the common mode. The lines were simple and the neckline was low for daytime, but a cream fichu made an illusion of daring out of a modest ensemble.
“I have wondered where your companion is,” Elizabeth said, emerging from behind the screen. “You do have one?”
“That is a luscious dress.”
“One of my favorites.” She resumed her seat on the bed as Lady Glenys did up her hooks. This exchange—women’s small talk over a change of dresses—was so familiar Elizabeth had taken it for granted. With her mother, her sisters, her cousins, and cousins-in-law, she often had a private moment to compare notes, share gossip, or rest her feet.
While Lady Glenys had a brother much occupied with the business of his dukedom.
“I have a companion,” her ladyship said, finishing the last hook. “Have had one for years, but she spends much of the summer with her family. She’s a cousin to the Archbishop of Canterbury, or second cousin. You are truly wearing half boots with that dress?”
“We’re hiking around the lake, unless you intend to assemble a parade of conveyances in addition to the kitchen carts.”
“I’d planned to set up closer to the house until you mentioned the flies.”
“It’s a pretty day for a walk, and the gentlemen will enjoy a chance to escort the ladies. Keep a pony cart on hand for transporting the elders or those fatigued by their exertions.”
Some would be fatigued by their over-imbibing. One needn’t belabor the obvious.
Lady Glenys leaned back and braced herself on both hands. “I was daft to hold this house party. I had no idea of the expense, but the practical considerations are beyond me as well. You really must stay close to me at all times, Miss Windham, lest I have my guests picnicking downwind of the muck heap.”
She’d apparently planned for them to do exactly that.
Elizabeth rose to examine her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her bun was still tidy, despite her morning rambles. She approached the bed and unpinned her ladyship’s watch.
The watch had already lost a quarter of an hour against the clock on the mantel. “You chose to have the house party now so your companion would not be in the way, didn’t you?”
“She’s quite set in her ways, and while I love her dearly, I feel increasingly like it’s my job to attend to her wants and wishes, and to afford her my company, not the other way around.”
Elizabeth adjusted the watch and repinned it, as a sister or friend might have. “Do you have a room for Mr. Sherbourne?”
“The maids are seeing to that now. Haverford said to use a bedroom in the family wing, where he and Radnor can keep an eye on him.”
Why would they need to keep an eye on a neighbor of long standing? “Mr. Sherbourne strikes me as in need of guidance. For example, if you did extend a personal invitation to him to attend this gathering, he still should have sent his acceptance in writing.”
Glenys peered down at the watch, a lovely little gold article. “I might have misplaced his note. I’m not exactly current with my correspondence.”
Oh, dear. “You will give me your correspondence, my lady, and Charlotte and I will sort through it for you. The house party will last another nineteen days, more or less, and if you lack a personal secretary, you’ll have to make do with the resources at hand.”
“A secretary costs money. Even Haverford eschews that expense.”
Sorely embarrassed. His Grace had not exaggerated.
“One more handsome bachelor can hardly be a problem, can he?” Lady Glenys asked.
One more handsome, wealthy, good-looking bachelor. “I suppose not. You’ll give me your correspondence?”
Chagrin assailed Elizabeth once more. She’d been so resentful of her family’s meddling, so heedless of their concern for her. How did anybody manage without sisters? Or cousins, in-laws, and a doting uncle and aunt?
Lady Glenys rose. “I will surrender my correspondence to you, purely because I’m desperate and you’re the closest thing I have to an ally.”
“I do believe Lord Radnor is your ally, as is Haverford, but you must leave them no doubt as to when and how their support is needed.”
Lady Glenys marched to the door, chin high. “Radnor sees me as a younger sibling, one in need of his constant supervision, or something. He’s handsome, though, I’ll grant you that, and charming.”
He was also Haverford’s dearest friend, and of a lofty enough station to offer for the daughter of a duke—unlike Mr. Sherbourne, who was a bit rag-mannered, and disliked by her ladyship’s brother.
Nineteen days was no time at all when Elizabeth contemplated her friendship with Haverford, but an eternity from other perspectives.
“You’ll have the tents set up on the far side of the lake?” she asked.
“Just as soon as I stop by my own apartment and heed your mama’s advice.”
They parted at the top of the main staircase. The encounter, however brief, had given Elizabeth much to think about. If Lady Glenys felt a lack of allies, how must Haverford feel? Payment for all the house party expenses was his responsibility, not her ladyship’s, and he’d been exceedingly unhappy to see Sherbourne’s coach tooling up the drive.
Goddamned unhappy.
Charlotte came up the steps, munching a triangle of toast. “You left Mr. Sherbourne desolated for want of your company. I took pity on him.” Her grin was feline rather than coquettish.
“You did not add him to the breakfast menu, I trust?”
“I’m saving him for dessert, once I’m through with Haldale and Windstruther. They are the most self-important pair of ninnyhammers I’ve met in ages. I do love that dress.”
And yet, Charlotte had never asked to borrow it. “I love it too. Would you bring my parasol when you come down?”
“Of course, and Aunt’s too. Where are you off to?”
“Mr. Sherbourne has piqued my interest. I’m off to get to know him better, before one of your famous stray arrows puts a period to his dignity.”