“Of course. I’d not thought to include them in our original plans, as Marissa rarely socializes when in residence at Somerton. How wonderful they will be joining us.”
Petra’s glance shot from Katherine’s smug assurance to Lady Pendleton and Simon, who were both trying to hide their displeasure at the news of Morwick invading Brushbriar.
Lady Pendleton nodded to the housekeeper. “Please show our guests up, Mrs. Leonard, and have two additional rooms prepared for the Earl of Morwick and his mother.”
“Of course, Lady Pendleton.” Mrs. Leonard, keys jingling, bowed before Mother. “This way, my lady.”
“Consider our home yours for the duration of your stay. Mrs. Leonard will see you have everything you need,” Lady Pendleton added. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a mountain of correspondence that requires my attention, as well as the final preparations for our little house party.”
“Of course.” Mother inclined her head. “Mrs. Leonard, please proceed.”
“I must take my leave, Lady Marsh, Lady Petra.” Simon made a short bow. “I will see you both later at dinner. If you’ll excuse me?” Simon bestowed a charming smile on them, though there was no warmth in his eyes. “Shall I collect you for a walk about the gardens before dinner, Lady Petra? With your permission of course, Lady Marsh.”
Petra automatically looked to her mother, who nodded her acceptance. She found it frustrating to ask her mother to approve something as mundane as a turn about the gardens. It had been so nice not to have a chaperone while Mother was ill. Her brief stretch of freedom was over.
“That would be lovely,” Petra replied.
“Until then.” Simon turned and strode down the hallway toward the back of the house. Almost as if on cue, a pair of spaniels, tails wagging, appeared from the depths of the house to trail at his heels.
“My lady,” Mrs. Leonard repeated, before starting up the stairs. “If you will follow me.”
Petra stayed a step behind her mother and the beefy housekeeper and Katherine stuck to her side. Apparently Simon’s sister had more to say.
“I’d forgotten how much my brother dislikes Morwick.” Her tone was unapologetic. “I’d thought Simon had outgrown such a thing.”
Convenientlyforgotten, Petra thought. The invitation to Morwick and Lady Cupps-Foster was probably in retaliation for Simon forcing Katherine to return to Brushbriar.
“We all grew up together, Simon, me, and Morwick. We played hide and seek on the moors and went exploring. I’ve missed seeing him.” She pressed her hand to Petra’s arm.
Alookhad entered Katherine’s eyes as she spoke of Morwick. A look that spoke of more than childhood friendship.
“Mother likes to have a sherry in the large drawing room before dinner. It would be best if you weren’t late.” She glided back toward the stairs, pewter skirts wafting around her ankles gracefully.
Petra was trying very hard not to dislike her. She’d have to be an idiot not to hear the meaning in Katherine’s words. The house party wasn’t Katherine’s distraction, Morwick was.
It’s none of my business.But the jealousy leaked into her chest all the same.
As she watched the other woman make her way down the stairs like a beautiful, tragic swan, Petra had the unkind, uncharacteristic inclination to push Katherine down the them.
10
Petra took a deep breath as she was ushered into the drawing room before dinner, mentally preparing herself for the evening. After a nap, she’d indulged in a long, hot bath and requested tea in her room. Now better fortified, she prepared to acquaint herself with Simon’s family.
Simon himself would be missing from the drawing room. He’d sent a curt note explaining business matters required his attention until dinner and their walk in the gardens would have to be postponed.
Petra was hardly surprised. Her discomfort with Simon and Brushbriar had increased tenfold since the Marsh coach had arrived earlier in the day.
The drawing room was even more garishly decorated than the foyer of Brushbriar. Blue John had been tucked into each available nook of the large room. Four floor-to-ceiling windows faced the moors, each possessing a windowpane of Blue John. A fire crackled in the immense fireplace, large enough for Petra to walk in to. The mantle and hearth were made of the rare mineral. A small table to Lady Pendleton’s right held an enormous egg carved of Blue John, held aloft by a gilt stand.
Petra found the entire room overdone and bordering on vulgar.
Mother was already here, seated to Lady Pendleton’s right. The girlish curls she sometimes affected were bouncing to and fro as she nodded in agreement to a story her hostess related. Mother appeared absolutely fascinated by Lady Pendleton’s conversation and barely blinked when her daughter was announced.
“There you are, dearest.” Mother looked up as she entered the room. “I do hope you’re well rested.” Her eyes ran over Petra’s attire searching for anything warranting her disapproval; apparently finding nothing, a satisfied smile crossed her lips.
“I’m quite refreshed, thank you.” Petra dipped to both Lady Pendleton and her daughter. “Good evening, Lady Pendleton, Lady Whitfield.”
Both ladies inclined their heads in acknowledgement.
