“Then let us make a pact, you and I,” Percival said, holding out his hand. “We will teach the “Lisas” of the world how to read not only words, but also music.”
Tiffany took his hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Yes, My Lord, Percival. Let us do that very thing.”
He held her hand in his for a moment. It was a strong little hand, calloused from hard work, and blistered in a couple of places where she had burned herself on a hot pan while trying to hurry.
Then she seemed to realize that her hand had been in his for a moment longer than was truly needed to shake on a bargain, and she withdrew it.
“Look at the time, Percival, My Lord. Truly, I must go if the household is to have dinner.”
She busied herself putting away her books and papers, then dropped him a curtesy. “Have I leave to go, My Lord?”
“Yes, of course, Tiffany. Time to feed the hungry.”
She hurried away, and he sat, letting the afternoon wash over him. She was so strong, so independent, and so markedly different from the society ladies he had encountered. And, he realized, becoming more than a little important to him.
Chapter 24
Lord Ronald Dandridge stepped from the hired coach. Leaving his man of business to pay the driver, he climbed the steps of Northbury Manor. He drew his brows together into a frown. The most delicious odors were wafting along on the breeze. Could Jones have suddenly developed a talent for cooking? The last meal he had eaten with his nephew had featured several dishes brought in from the Inn located several streets away.
“Good evening Lord Ronald,” McClellan greeted him. “A pleasure, as always. Should I have your rooms made up?”
Lord Ronald waved one hand dismissively. “No, no, I’ll go to my club. I have merely stopped to see how my nephew is getting on. It has been some months since I last visited.”
“Indeed, Lord Ronald, and you have been sorely missed. Only the other day, Lord Northbury remarked upon your long absence. Shall we set a place for dinner?”
The remarkable aroma wafting from the inner most depths of the manor house piqued Lord Ronald’s curiosity. “If it is not inconvenient,” he said.
“Never could you be inconvenient, Uncle,” Percival said, coming down the grand staircase. “What a pleasure to see you. Will you be staying with us?”
“No, no, Nephew. An old man in a young man’s house cannot be other thande trop. You are looking well. How have you been keeping yourself?”
“Better than tolerable. You are just in time for afternoon tea. Will you come in and have some?”
“Certainly. And I have invited myself to dinner, as well. I trust you have nothing special going on?”
“Only a couple of friends coming over to play a rubber or two of cards. You will be most welcome to join us, as you would make a fourth and I shall not have to draft McClellan or Smithers to play.”
“Always devilish inconvenient to have to draft the servants to make up a hand,” Lord Ronald remarked. “One never knows whether to allow them to win or to return their winnings if they lose. Quite shameful to beggar one’s staff.”
“We merely play for points, Uncle Ronald, so it does not become an issue.”
“Very wise, Nephew, very wise. Many a house has been beggared at the gaming table.”
Tea was a simple one, just sandwiches and sugar biscuits. Today was Mr. Wilson’s day to instruct Tiffany, which had left Percival rather at loose ends, and with a strong desire to eavesdrop on the lesson. His Uncle’s visit was fortuitous as it relieved what had been a long, dreary afternoon spent pouring over account books. Nonetheless, Percival had decreed that afternoon tea should be kept to a minimum so that their promising young cook would not be disturbed from her studies.
“Quite so, Uncle. Were you able to successfully conclude your business?”
“I was. Quite profitably, I might add. It is good to be back home, nonetheless. How have you been keeping?”
“Very well, thank you. Planning for the orphanage in addition to keeping track of the estate accounts has kept me quite busy. Mr. Wilson tells me that my investments are doing well, and that the plantings on the home estates are coming along nicely.”
“Quite a relief, that, after the last two or three years,” Lord Ronald ruminated. "And what about that other thing . . . have you found a wife yet?”
"I’ve not met a lady who suits me, although half the mothers in London have made sure that I was introduced to their daughters.”
“So what is it that we need to do? Send for a foreign bride?”
“I am sure that the right woman will present herself in good time. Just because the Marriage Mart has not yet produced exactly the right lady . . .”
