As she and Theo exited the coach and entered the house, a thin, angular man rushed forward, twin puffs of white hair on either side of his otherwise bald pate. His mustache twitched at them in consternation. “Greetings. I am Owens, His Grace’s butler. Welcome to The Barrow. You must be Lady Richardson’s cousins?”
“Lady Andromeda Barrington and Lady Theodosia Barrington.” Romy inclined her head, smiling at the harried butler.
Theo walked away from her, attempting to sneak down the hall, perhaps in an attempt to catch another glimpse of Blythe. “Theo,” she hissed to her sister, waving for her to return.
“My apologies that you’ve not been greeted properly.” The butler’s mustache twitched like a small mouse sensing danger. The last word ended on a slight tremble.
The butler was obviously nervous, desperate to ensure Romy and Theo weren’t displeased. It spoke volumes about the way Granby treated his staff.
“The other guests are on the terrace enjoying—” Owens started to say.
“You’ve greeted usquiteproperly, Mr. Owens. I’ll make sure Lady Molsin is well aware. Our delay in arrival is entirely my fault. I hope I didn’t cause undue worry.”
Romy had insisted on stopping at Madame Dupree’s before leaving to drop off a series of sketches she’d just finished for Miss Hobarth. Cousin Winnie was probably beside herself with worry. “Can you have one of the footmen,” she gestured to a stoic looking youth hovering by the door, “apprise Lady Richardson of our arrival?”
“Immediately, my lady. I shall do so myself. Your rooms have been prepared.” He waved forward a maid. “I assume you would like to refresh yourselves after your journey before joining the other guests? Sara can show you to your rooms. I’ll ensure your servants are settled.”
“Yes, thank you, Owens.”
The butler nodded, cheeks pinking as she addressed him by name.
Everyone, no matter their station, deserved to be treated with respect and recognized for their contributions. Romy’s mother insisted all the Barrington servants be treated politely and addressed by name.
Romy held tightly to her sister’s sleeve. “Come, Theo.” They were both dusty and in need of a change of clothes.
“When you are ready, my lady, a servant will show you to the terrace where the other guests are gathered. You are not the only late arrivals,” he added.
“Splendid.” Romy dragged Theo up the stairs. “Thank you again, Owens.”
6
“Christ, Gran. Did your aunt invite every marriageable chit in England?” Haven complained from a leather winged-back chair. “Will I be forced to play charades? Or some other silly game no dignified marquess should be forced to play?”
“You are hardly dignified,” Blythe said from his place closer to the sideboard.
Haven scowled in his direction.
“Depends on what you deem beneath you,” David answered his friend. “I’m sure there will be charades this evening in the drawing room, and Aunt Pen has arranged a game of bowls on the lawn for tomorrow.”
“Just give me a bloody pistol now. I’ll go shoot something in the woods to relieve the tedium. Or better yet, I’ll shoot myself in order to avoid participating in such nonsense. I can just imagine a flock of young ladies all tossing bowls about the lawn at me.”
“Perish the thought, Haven.Noneof them are after you.” Blythe gave Haven a smug look. “Not with a duke and a ridiculously wealthy earl who looks like me in residence. Even Estwood is far more charming when he chooses to be. Or at least his money is.”
“You can’t have one conversation without mentioning the size of your purse, can you?” Haven snapped.
“I wasn’t talking aboutmywealth,” Blythe pointed out. “But Estwood’s. Where is he, by the way?”
“Estwood will arrive later tonight, hopefully in time for dinner,” David answered. “A delay in London. One of his business ventures required immediate attention.”
Estwood was involved in all sorts of schemes, some of which David approved of and many he did not. Ruthless and brilliant, Estwood disregarded all obstacles and a great many people in his pursuit of wealth. He’d amassed a great deal, making Blythe look like a pauper in comparison. But it was never enough. All the wealth in the world would never buy Estwood what he sought most.
“You, Haven, will have to settle for one of the plainer girls, though a well-dowered one,” Blythe stated in a conversational tone. “Isn’t Lady Mildred still unmarried? I think I saw her wandering about as I made my way to your study, Gran.”
“Lady Mildred is a bit long in the tooth for my tastes.”
“Sheisquite ancient, but also very desperate. Or Lucy Waterstone. Her father is dying to marry her off. The lispisunfortunate.”
Haven gave Blythe a chilly look. “You, Blythe, are nothing more than a spoiled dandy with little to recommend him but his looks. You are fortunate I didn’t strangle you on the ride here.”
