The family filed down the hall, leaving Noah with Miss Wimbley, Lady Abra, and their maid.
Baldric’s shadow darkened the entry. He tossed three valises inside. “The ladies’ baggage,” he rasped out, then faded like the apparition Noah always believed him to be.
“We had no notion Lord Pender…” Lady Abra’s voice faded. “Of course, we shall remove ourselves to an inn in Alnmouth immediately. This will be a trying time for your family.”
Miss Wimbley’s spine straightened and her jaw tightened. She met Noah’s gaze with a direct one of her own and he couldn’t tear his eyes from eyes so deep a blue, he expected to see stars reflected from a night sky.
Winfield emitted a small cough. “Master Noah?”
Noah started, but his gaze remained captive. “Inform Mrs. Knagg to have their bags brought to the Blue Suite in the west tower.” He was not about to turn them away. There were too many questions surrounding the women’s sudden appearance. Perhaps it was the determination in Miss Wimbley’s stance. Certainly, it was not the color of her eyes—navy eyes that didn’t belong in Northumberland’s rare, sun-filled days. Eyes that color were indeed out of the ordinary. “If you don’t mind a visit with the family?”
A wrinkled creased Miss Wimbley’s forehead, as if she hadn’t comprehended the question.
Her friend cut her gaze to Miss Wimbley then answered for them. “Truly, we don’t wish to intrude. Perhaps a quick freshening up? That’s all we require if it’s not too much bother, of course.”
Noah caught the swift squeeze of Miss Wimbley’s fingers on her friend’s.A silent thank you.There was definitely more to their visit than met his eyes. He sensed a challenge, and it fired his blood as nothing had in some time. Smiling, he said, “Nonsense, Lady Abra. I insist you stay. Many of the ton will be arriving soon. I expect you’ll know most everyone. Winfield, whereisMrs. Knagg?”
“The kitchens, sir. I’ll retrieve her—”
“No. No, Winfield. Don’t bother. Have Hicks retrieve their bags. I’ll show the ladies up myself. Ladies?” He led the way up the grand staircase that gleamed under Verda’s care over the years, pointedly ignoring his aunt’s, uncle’s, and both brothers’ raised brows. Thankfully, Isabelle hadn’t learned that intricate and annoying move as of yet.
Once on the landing, the walk was short down the main corridor to the back portion of the west tower.
Now that his father was gone, the earl’s suite would naturally go to Lucius and his bride if Lucius ever saw fit to release her from another Pender holding—the Cornwall property’s Perlsea Keep—imprisonment. Ah, well. No one held a grudge more effectively than his eldest brother. Noah took another sharp turn to the right.
At one time, long ago, the Blue Suite had belonged to Uncle Sander, but after he and Verda had wed some twenty-three years now, they’d adopted the eastern wing of the castle, which had initially housed Aunt Verda, as their main residence. It allowed for plenty of privacy.
After the difficulties of a horrid event when Isabelle had been but four, she too, had rooms near her parents rather than residing in the nursery above stairs. Even after a decade, guilt still gripped him with the capacity of the teeth of an iron trap.
Noah was wildly curious as he considered the friends and their maid from a covert gaze. He pushed open the door to the sitting room and ushered them in.
“The suite holds three bedchambers,” he explained as they strolled down a wide corridor. He opened the door to the renovated sitting room that was more than suitable for his unexpected guests.
He indicated two doors to his right, meeting Lady Abra’s hazel eyes. “The larger one and a smaller one, convenient for your maid.”
She indicated her thanks with an incline of her head.
Miss Wimbley strode across the chamber to another door and peered in. “Ah, this shall do nicely for me.” Pure excitement gleamed from her dark eyes. For the first time since learning of his father’s passing, something hard, and… and large, odd, shifted in Noah’s chest. He couldn’t seem to pull his gaze from hers.
A long pause ensued until the air was fraught with an undeniable awkwardness.
“Sir?” Miss Wimbley’s voice seemed to echo through a long tunnel, startling him.
He cleared his throat. “My apologies.” His hand swept out. “Your bags should arrive soon. I’ll have hot water sent up immediately. We keep country hours at Stonemare. Luncheon is served at one, and dinner at seven.” He backed from the chamber, closing the door on his exit, pausing momentarily, and contemplating what had just happened.
An explosion of muffled feminine laughter sounded from behind.
Chuckling to himself, Noah found one of Stonemare’s two footmen, Fletcher, and ordered water for his guests, then made for the library to face the multitude of questions with which his family was surely bursting.
*
At the door,Noah forced himself to enter the library. The chaotic scene was both familiar and annoying. Julius teasing Isabelle; Aunt Verda standing back but watching with hawkeyed alertness; Lucius, with his typical broody aura, staring out at the sudden downpour; and Uncle Sander? He pierced Noah with a steady gaze. “Where’s Docia? It isn’t like her to not be in the thick of Pender business. Her carriage nearly ran us to ground.”
The chaos around him shifted to avid curiosity.
“Are you going to marry her?” Isabelle’s question was a gut punch worthy of an opponent from Mantons.
Resentment colored Lucius’s hard expression, with a tightened jaw and sneer curling his lip. “Why wouldn’t he, Issie? She’s his for the taking.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
