“Andromeda and Theodosia arrived much later than anticipated.” Cousin Winnie sent Romy a pointed look. “And you had other guests to see to, Penelope.”
“Indeed, Lady Molsin. I would not have wanted you to desert your other guests on our account. Owens was very welcoming and is a credit to His Grace’s household,” Romy said. “My apologies if our late arrival caused any undue concern.”
Lady Molsin waved away her apology. “Not at all,” she said, her grip on Romy’s hand firm as she studied her. “Quite beautiful, aren’t you? Like all the Barringtons. I am acquainted with your mother, though it has been some time since I’ve seen her. How does Amanda fare these days?”
“She is well, my lady. And in London, enjoying her grandson, Lord Welles.”
Lady Molsin nodded. “Good. I was saddened to hear of your father’s death. He was a lovely man. Quite the rogue, before marrying your mother. Caused quite a stir. I remember it well.”
At Romy’s questioning look, Lady Molsin only smiled broader. “Forgive the ramblings of an elderly woman.”
“Where has Theodosia gone?” Cousin Winnie said, clearly agitated. “She was right there only a moment ago.” Shrewd eyes scanned the terrace. “She should greet our hostess properly.”
“I’m sure Theo will turn up, Cousin,” Romy assured her, pondering Lady Molsin’s comment. “If you will excuse me, I feel the need to stretch my legs after our journey. I was thinking of a walk before dinner.”
“But dear,” Cousin Winnie turned back to Romy, “you haven’t yet met the duke.”
The verylastthing Romy wished to do was reacquaint herself with Granby.
“Nonsense.” Lady Molsin batted away Cousin Winnie’s concern. “My nephew has yet to appear, and Lady Andromeda won’t be gone long, I’m sure. The gardensarelovely. Very wild. The best thing about The Barrow, in my estimation. The gardeners took all their direction from the duke. His Grace is very exacting.”
And arrogant. Rude. Snobbish.It was one of the few times Romy didn’t voice her opinion. But she was surprised that the gardens were the purview of Granby and not his aunt.
“Many of the plants are not native to England but have been coaxed to grow here all the same. The roses at the far corner”—Lady Molsin pointed to a spot hidden from the terrace—“are in bloom.”
“Oh, there she is.” Cousin Winnie waved.
Theo had reappeared on the opposite side of the terrace. She was leaning over, peering in Cousin Winnie’s direction, one hand shading her eyes from the sun.
“Perhaps Lady Theodosia can’t see us?” Lady Molsin offered gently.
A puzzled look appeared on Cousin Winnie’s face. “She usually wears spectacles.”
Before her cousin could question her as to Theo’s eyesight, Romy took a step in the direction of the stairs leading down into the gardens. She had no desire to run into Granby, at least at present, and especially not after being subjected to Beatrice.
“I think I’ll take your suggestion, Lady Molsin.” Bobbing politely, Romy hurried across the terrace and down the broad stone steps leading into the gardens. She took a deep lungful of fresh air. Trees. Flowers. The chirping of birds. All of it was so much better than being subjected to the conversation filling the terrace behind her.
As her feet touched the gravel of the path, she heard Lady Molsin say, “Ah, there’s Granby now.”
8
David stepped outside, taking in the guests busily eating his food and ordering his servants about. House parties, as a rule, required a certain amount of forced intimacy between host and guest. He eschewed such informality. David neither cared nor wanted to know most of these people any more than he already did. Which was to say, not at all.
He stretched his neck, hoping to loosen his cravat.
Aunt Pen had made the guest list, but he was sure Lady Foxwood had had input because of the presence of Lord and Lady Carstairs. Carstairs was a pleasant sort, but he and David were only slightly acquainted. It was Beatrice who was close to Lady Carstairs, which made him seriously consider the intelligence of his future duchess.
If Lord and Lady Carstairs were in possession of one brain between them, it would be a miracle on par with a virgin birth. Attractive and wealthy, the newly married couple seemed to exist in their own world where intellect wasn’t noted or required. He wasn’t even sure what to call such a match. A marriage of equals?
Doubtless due to the influence wielded by Lady Foxwood, the other young ladies in attendance were all lovely, but not so attractive that Lady Beatrice’s beauty would be eclipsed. His eyes were drawn to the odd movements of a willowy brunette, seemingly oblivious to a servant carrying a tray of poached chicken. She shuffled forward before nearly upending the tray. Smiling, she apologized profusely to the shaken footman.
David’s lips formed their usual scowl. No one should have to apologize to a servant. It wasn’t necessary. His father had assured him it wasn’t appropriate when David had made the mistake of apologizing to a groom at the age of ten.
There was something vaguely familiar about the young lady, yet David was positive they’d never met. As the brunette gingerly made her way over to Aunt Pen and a woman he recalled to be Lady Richardson, David was struck by how lovely the girl was.
Lady Foxwood had certainly not approved this guest.
His observation was interrupted by the arrival of Lord Foxwood, who came toward David while rubbing his hands together, likely already contemplating his daughter’s elevation to duchess.
