Chapter 8
Harry had placed Anna to his right at the top of the table. This might seem unusual to the casual observer, as there were many more elevated guests that one might expect to sit in such a place of honor. But Harry wanted to engage in conversation with the woman he cared about so very much. To his left was Nora Fitzwalker, the daughter of the Lord Mayor of London. He had been introduced to her only this evening, but Maria had decided the lady needed to be honored with the place to his left because of her father’s position.
The table looked beautiful. Dorothy’s flower arrangements were stunning and low enough so that all the guests could see each other and converse. There were many candelabra along the length of the table and chandeliers overhead that gave the dining hall a warm glow and showed off the ladies and gentlemen at their very best.
The footmen began serving the wine and the soup course—a clear beef consommé.
Harry turned to speak to Anna, but Miss Fitzwalker intercepted.
“Your Lordship, I cannot tell you what an honor it is to be asked to your dance this evening. My father will be very pleased to hear I have enjoyed myself so much.”
Miss Fitzwalker was a stunning looking woman in her late twenties. She was tall, with dark hair, finely sculpted features, bright brown eyes and long slender hands that she used to great effect when speaking.
“Forgive me, I missed hearing where you are staying,” Harry said.
“With my grandparents, the Conrad Fitzwalkers, over by Cheltenham. Your sister was so kind to invite me as I have not met your family before.”
“But my father knew your father very well before he was the Lord Mayor.”
Nora placed her hand on the table nearby —but not touching—Harry’s hand. “And how is your dear mother? I heard she was injured in the accident that killed your father,”
“She is an invalid. She cannot walk and deals with constant pain. It is very difficult for the family, but I have to say she is very brave. She was not up to attending the dance this evening. It would have been too much for her.”
“I understand,” Nora briefly touched the top of Harry’s hand.
A footman leaned over next to Miss Fitzwalker to pour her more wine, and during that interval, Harry turned to Anna and asked, “Have you heard any news of your father?”
Anna seemed pleased with his attention. “We have not. But this has been one of his longest sojourns in India, and I have to say, I am a little worried we have not heard from him in quite a while. We had several letters soon after he arrived but nothing for several months now.”
Harry patted Anna’s hand. “Probably just delays in the post. International mail is notoriously slow.”
“I hope that is all.” She took several spoonsful of soup, then said, “It has been very pleasant meeting your friend, Mr. Stewart. He has been very gallant to Dorothy and me. And he is an excellent dancer.”
Harry smiled, but this information did not please him. He did not invite Christopher to Wiltshire to enchant Anna. “But not to worry,” she added. “I do not think he will divert me from my friendly affection for dear Percy.” And that displeased Harry even more.
But both Harry and Anna were distracted by uproarious laughter from halfway down the table where Aunt Agatha was regaling her near neighbors with some story or other. It was clear she was enchanting many of his guests.
At this point, Nora took advantage of the distraction to engage Harry once again.
“Tell me, Your Lordship, what exactly is it you do with your land? My grandfather told me you were involved in livestock.”
“Kerry cattle, specifically.”
“Is there something special about this breed?”
“They are of the very highest quality. Champions and of great value.”
“You must show them to me. They sound very interesting,” She said with a very open and winning smile.
Harry had to admit to himself he found this young lady to be very appealing. Not only was she lovely to look at, but she seemed to have intelligence, inquisitiveness, and a very winning personality. She looked very pretty in a light blue dress that was simple, but stylish, and in very good taste.
“I would be happy to show them to you. If you let me know ahead of time, I can arrange a morning or afternoon where you might come by to inspect the cattle and perhaps we could have a ride and lunch.”
“That sounds delightful,” she said
“How long are you to be in Wiltshire?”
“The rest of the summer. I do not care for London this time of year. It can be very hot, and I prefer the cooling breezes of the countryside.”
