“Of course he will,” Lady Suzanna assured her. “You are already eight-and-ten. There are others younger than you who have already been Presented to the Queen. Unless,” she smiled at her, “it is not to your liking?”
“Oh no!” Claire shook her head. “I would love to see the city.”
“Me, too!” Trixie chimed in.
Her older sister laughed. “Very well then, you should learn to behave yourself or we will be thrown out of London within a week.”
Claire sneaked a peek at the Duke, who was standing behind his sister, observing the entire affair with a soft smile on his lips. At twenty-two, he was tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair. He was quite handsome with green eyes and she had often heard other young ladies and their mamas remark that he was quite a “catch.”
They ushered their guests to the drawing room, where the tea was promptly served with plates of freshly baked scones and jam.
“Upon my word, Theresa makes the best scones in the whole of England,” Lady Suzanna smiled, biting delicately into her scone.
“One would think that you came here explicitly for that,” her brother teased her. Oliver sipped his tea and smiled at the sisters.
They all laughed at his remark and Lady Suzanna declared jokingly that she would snatch Theresa from the Rowleys if they failed to invite her regularly for tea.
“Of course, you have to send me these scones every once in a while, too,” she smiled.
“Well, why don’t you just move in?” her brother snickered.
She raised a delicate eyebrow in response. “Well, I would if I was sure you would not burn Minsbury Park to the ground within a week without me looking after you.”
Oliver laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Touché.”
They were still laughing and enjoying their tea when the footman came in to inform them that Lord Rowley had summoned them all to the study.
“All of us?” Claire asked, her brows knitted in confusion.
The footman nodded his head. “Lord Rowley was quite specific in his instructions, milady.”
Lady Suzanna stood up and smoothed her skirts. “Well, then, we should not keep Lord Rowley waiting.”
“I agree,” Oliver nodded his head, his features more somber. There was no trace of the earlier laughter in his eyes as he felt the gravity of the situation. “It is not so often that Lord Rowley would summonallof us to his study.”
It remained unsaid that the last time all four of them had been summoned to the Viscount’s study had been to discuss the death of the Viscountess and to read her last will and testament.
Chapter 2
The study of the Viscount of Ranhold was a sight that Oliver held close to his heart, as was the man seated behind the hardwood desk, bent over several scattered papers. In more ways than one, Eberhard Rowley acted as his father and showed him the ropes of business. As his own father and the Viscount were partners in many ventures, Oliver was grateful that the Viscount was there to patiently guide him until he learned well enough to manage on his own, even encouraging his ideas as he would his very own son.
There was nothing that Oliver would not do for the Viscount and his family. He regarded the older man as his father and the girls as much a part of his own family as his sister.
As he stood there before that familiar desk, along with his sister and the Viscount’s daughters, Oliver could not help the deep foreboding that crept into his heart. It had been so long since he had felt it—more than five years, to be exact, when he and Suzanna first learned of the tragic demise of both their parents.
He tried to blink but somehow, he once again saw the drawing room of Minsbury Park, saw Suzanna as she sat with him nervously. He saw Lord and Lady Rowley approach them with much sorrow in their eyes as they broke the news to him and his sister…that there had been an accident and their parents were no more.
“Father, is something amiss?” It was Claire who first broke the pervasive silence that enveloped the room, dark brown eyes shining with worry. She was wringing her hands anxiously, a habit that Oliver had seen on several occasions.
It was her soft voice that broke through his thoughts, tethering him back to the present.
He longed to hold her hands and provide her some measure of comfort but had to restrain himself in the presence of many. Not only was it highly unanticipated but it might even be considered inappropriate, as they were not related by blood and Claire was an unmarried young lady.
The Viscount closed his eyes and took off his spectacles, setting them aside. When he opened them again, his dark brown eyes, so very similar to Claire’s, were filled with sorrow as he looked at each and every one of them.
“My children,” he sighed, his voice breaking.
Trixie suddenly rushed to him and hugged him tight, to the surprise of all those present. “It’s all right, Father. Whatever it is, it will be all right with all of us,” she murmured into his neck.
