“He showed great interest in the collection. It seemed only logical,” he replied, looking quite proud of himself. “And as luck would have it, he was not opposed to an extended visit.”
“A historian? Attending a house party?” Bridget mused.
Alastair chuckled. “Not every guest need be preoccupied with fashion and frivolity, or Whist for that matter. Besides, Lady Worthington might find him interesting. Her father, Lord Kerrington, was quite the scholar.”
“Are we playing Whist?” Bridget glanced at Marjory.
“Indeed. Marjory firmly believes that a well-matched partnership brings out the best in both players. Two minds in concert make victories all the sweeter. Whoever heard of a solo triumph?” Alastair teased, glancing at his wife with playful amusement, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Thank you for evening out our table, but that doesn’t help me with the plans for the card room.” Marjory returned to studying the guest list.
“I would enjoy being your partner. However, you will be darting about. I might as well be playing alone.” Alastair let his words rest. “I shall see that Tresham participates in our other entertainments. Is that satisfactory?”
Marjory pursed her lips, then let out a slow breath. “I suppose it is better than enduring an uneven table.”
Alastair reached for her hand, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “You wound me, my love. A perfectly balanced guest list and not a hint of gratitude?”
Marjory sighed, though a mischievous twinkle softened her words. “You are insufferable.”
“And yet, you married me.”
Bridget smothered a laugh behind her hand as Marjory sighed with exaggerated suffering.
“Very well, then. I shall have a place set for Mr. Tresham.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “Then all is settled.”
Marjory turned to Bridget with a bemused expression. “A historian at our house party. What do you make of that?”
Bridget tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the rim of her teacup. “I think this party will be more intriguing than anyone expected.”
“Let’s hope the professor finds something to amuse him,” Marjory said. “We wouldn’t want him asking too many questions.”
Bridget arched a brow. “Questions? What might he ask?”
“Only about old books and older stories. Now, if you will excuse me,” Alastair said with a lazy smile as he moved toward the door.
“Bridget.” Marjory put the papers aside. “I want to have one last look at the blooms. The hydrangeas and lavender will be a perfect addition to the vases for the dining room.”
The invitation lightened the moment. Bridget followed as Marjory led her toward the garden. Along the winding path, manicured hedges gave way to bursts of color from the flowering bushes in full bloom.
Pausing before a particularly vibrant cluster of hydrangeas, Marjory gently brushed her fingertips over the petals. “These are stunning. Just imagine how they’ll bring life to our table. I’ll have the gardener bring some to Mrs. Simmons. We can add them to the floral arrangements.”
They strolled quietly, enjoying the gentle breeze that carried the delicate scent of roses and honeysuckle. “You seem more at ease today,” Marjory said to Bridget.
Bridget nodded thoughtfully. “There’s a certain comfort in being useful. Keeping busy helps to take my mind off…things.”
Marjory gave her a knowing look as they reached the garden wall. “I’m grateful for your help.” She glanced toward the house. “Come along. There is still much to prepare. I had the staff bring the vases into the drawing room to finish the arrangements.”
Bridget followed her back through the garden. “You’ve planned the perfect weekend,” she said with a small approving smile.
“Planned, yes,” Marjory said, though her smile faltered as they entered the drawing room. “Yet Mark has been… preoccupied lately.” She smoothed an invisible crease on her skirt.
“Excuse me, my lady.” Drummund, the footman, approached with a slight bow, a silver tray in hand.
Marjory glanced at her writing desk, where an array of open invitations and neatly penned responses lay in careful order. She accepted the morning post with a quiet nod, sorting through the letters briefly, until Drummond, handed her a final sealed missive.
She paused, then took it from Drummund with a quiet, “Thank you.”
