“Never fear, Petra; I will walk you through exactly what you must say and to whom,” Simon reassured her. “I will even write it down if need be and we’ll go over the finer points together. You need not fear embarrassment.”
“Perish the thought. How considerate of you.” Simon thought her incapable of grasping the simplest of concepts yet it was Morwick who she’d been angered at for calling her a pea-wit. How ironic.
“You’ll be a splendid politician’s wife and an amazing viscountess.” Simon went on, unaware of how incredibly offensive he was. “We shall set London on their ear, won’t we?”
“Of course.” Petra breathed in the desolation of the moors, wishing she need never return to Brushbriar.
“Goodness, the wind has picked up.” A scowl darkened his face as he took in the strands of her hair spilling in disarray down the length of her back. “It seems you’ve lost some pins as well as your hat.”
Good God.The small birds hovering about them might be affronted by the loosening of her hair. They might report such a terrible impropriety to Lady Pendleton.
“Shall we go back, my dear? Almost time for tea.”
Simon wouldneverbe late for tea, after which he would walk with his spaniels again and probably speak to the dogs with much more affection than he did Petra. A great deal had been overlooked in her desire to avoid disappointing her parents.
“And I expect you’ll want to refresh yourself. You may want to,” he waved imperiously toward her head, “do something. I should not wish such a display to be mistaken for something else other than the results of too much wind.”
Of course not. Petra gave one last glance at the valley below. The sheep were still grazing, and smoke still puffed up from the chimney’s cottage, the inhabitants of which were probably blissfully happy and unaware of how Petra envied them.
“Yes, my lord.” She twisted her hair into a bun at the base of her neck with the remaining pins. “I should hate to miss tea.”
13
The guests for Lady Pendleton’s house party had begun to arrive.
All of Brushbriar hummed with the footsteps of servants as they hurried to their duties. Each room was to have at least one vase of fresh flowers. Every bit of Blue John must be polished to a brilliant gleam. Intoxicating smells came from the kitchen as Cook prepared countless tarts, biscuits and other pastries with which to tempt the guests. The windows to the ballroom had been thrown open to air out the space, little used for many years.
Katherine, more militant than any general, marched about inspecting everything on her mother’s behalf. There weren’t enough roses in this vase. A smudge was found on one of the ballroom windows. More wine should be brought from the cellar.
Mother had taken breakfast in her chamber that morning, citing exhaustion. She’d been assisting Lady Pendleton in preparing the menus and discussing other diversions, besides dancing, for their guests. Unfortunately, Katherine’s fortune teller would not be coming to Brushbriar since she’d been run out of Castleton with accusations of fraud at her heels. Lady Pendleton decided on a room for cards to be played instead.
Petra wandered aimlessly about the house trying to find some way to amuse herself without being underfoot. One day, she could very well be in the thick of such preparations if she were to throw a house party, but becoming the mistress of Brushbriar became less a reality as each day went by.
The ride with Simon the previous day had left Petra with a hollow feeling, as if she were a piece of fruit whom an industrious member of the kitchen staff had scooped the pulp from. The void grew wider and deeper by the hour. The least rebellious part of her, the place where old Petra lived, whispered marriage to a brilliant man of Simon’s standing was what every young lady of her station hoped for. Mother and Father would besopleased. Thetonwould flock to pay calls upon her. Invitations to sup at her table would be fought over. The most important and influential people in London would visit her home. Petra would become one of the most powerful women in thetonand indeed in all of London. She reminded herself of all those things but felt no reassurance. It didn’t help that her thoughts seemed to gravitate toward Morwick and the fact she would see him soon.
Agitated and at loose ends, she decided to see if Simon would walk with her or even play a game of chess.
Asking first the butler, a white-haired man with a superior attitude matched only by that of his employer, where she could find Lord Pendleton, Petra was directed to Simon’s study. Finding that room empty except for a maid busy cleaning the windows, she was told Lord Pendleton had gone to have tea with his mother in the family’s private sitting room.
As she strode down the hall in the direction the maid had indicated, Petra decided she didn’t care at all for the décor of Brushbriar. There was little warmth in Simon’s home. The furniture was uncomfortable and formal, every room packed with sculptures, expensive vases, paintings and other objets d'art. Brushbriar resembled a museum more than someone’s home. Even the portraits of Simon’s ancestors looked as if they’d rather be somewhere else.
I wouldn’t have to live here, but in London.
Petra found the thought of London, along with a great many other things, did not appeal to her anymore.
As she neared the room the maid had indicated, voices sounded through the door, which had been carelessly left ajar. Sheshouldturn around. Go back the way she’d come and seek out Simon another time. Unintentionally eavesdropping had become an unwelcome habit of hers. The results had been mixed to say the least.
“I’m not sure what you are concerned about, Simon. There’snomap. No survey. Not a scrap of paper duly witnessed. Nothing to dispute the property line as it now stands. I’ve been assured of it.” A cough followed Lady Pendleton’s words.
“I certainly hope you’re right.”
Petra could almost hear Simon frowning in distaste.
“Why would Katherine invite them? Morwick and I haven’t spoken in years; not since the debacle in Oxford. Not even when we bumped into each other in Castleton several months ago. And you’ve never cared for Marissa. Good Lord, I’m not even sure how to refer to her anymore, she’s married so many times.”
Petra pressed herself against the paneling, thinking how unkind the comment about Lady Cupps-Foster had been. As if it were her fault she’d been widowed and her husbands had died so tragically.
“Don’t be unreasonable. In hindsight, Katherine was right to invite them. Morwickisour closest neighbor regardless of your rather acrimonious relationship. And he has recently done you a great service in assisting Lady Marsh and Lady Petra. Thank goodness he did so; otherwise, your intended might still be stranded out on the moors. Their coachman should be fired for driving them so far off the main road. I’m surprised he hasn’t been. Perhaps I’ll suggest such a thing to Lady Marsh.”
