Indeed, she was starting to believe that he wasn’t intending to return to his life in London anytime soon. Possibly not ever. The previous day, his man, Snibbs, had taken possession of a large number of trunks and chests which had been brought from London by carter. Apparently, Snibbs had confirmed that the delivery represented all Gregory’s—and Snibbs’s and Melton’s—worldly goods. That certainly suggested that Gregory had moved in and planned on remaining at the Hall.
That he intended to make the Hall his home.
He’d yet to make any definitive statement regarding his future, yet contrary to their earlier thoughts, she sensed that everyone on the estate, herself included, was now hoping he would stay.
She cast her mind over the recent encounter and realized she was still smiling.
Feeling very much in charity with the world at large, she took one step toward the study, then halted, swung around, and headed for Alice’s workshop.
Alice and Millie deserved to know about Hagen and how Gregory had defended them.
On the following Saturday evening, Gregory sat in one corner of the forward-facing seat in the large and ancient Bellamy Hall coach. Although old, the carriage was—courtesy of Jenkins and his men—in excellent repair, and the springs had been replaced, ensuring a remarkably smooth ride.
He was on his way to Loxton Park, the home of the local squire, Lord Loxton. Caitlin had persuaded him that he couldn’t decline the Loxtons’ invitation, not if he planned to reside at the Hall for any substantial part of the year. The people he would meet tonight were his neighbors, and he would doubtless have reason to interact with them for years if not decades to come.
That was how she’d put it. As he had no plans to leave the Hall other than for short visits to London and to meet with family, he’d been about to reluctantly surrender to her wisdom when she’d capped her arguments by informing him that the local gentry were eaten with curiosity about him. He’d promptly suggested that was a very good reason not to show his face, but she’d countered that if he didn’t feed the beast, as it were, their hunger would only escalate.
As he was well aware of the lengths to which matrons with daughters to establish would go in pursuit of an eligible bachelor, he’d capitulated.
They’d taken the old coach because it would comfortably seat all six of the Hall residents attending. As well as Gregory and Caitlin, that included Julia, Joshua, Vernon, and Percy. Alice and Millie had also been invited, but—possibly in response to Hagen’s visit—both were in Northampton for a few days, consulting with one of Alice’s long-established colleagues there. Doubtless, the obnoxious Hagen’s ears had been burning throughout the day.
As the coach rattled on through the encroaching darkness of the winter evening, Gregory fought a losing battle to drag his senses from the lady seated beside him. The rocking of the coach meant that, as she swayed with the movement, her shoulder, sheathed in silk and the velvet of her evening cloak, brushed against his arm.
Such an innocent touch, yet it set his nerves afire and his imagination rioting.
When he’d seen her descending the stairs to join him and the group gathered in the hall, all excitedly chattering, he’d had to blink three times before he’d been sure he had his expression under control.
Before he’d been sure nothing showed of the lust the sight of her had inspired.
Her gown was a stylish confection of pansy-blue silk that left her shoulders bare. Her black hair had been gathered in a knot on the top of her head, with tendrils allowed to hang in corkscrew curls over her nape and provocatively brush the sides of her long, white throat. Her fascinating violet-blue eyes had seemed larger and brighter than ever.
Every subsequent second—as he’d escorted her to the carriage and handed her up, then climbed in and claimed the seat beside her—had been an ordeal. Having her beside him was, on the one hand, absolutely necessary—or so said his instincts—yet having her so close was a serious and continuing source of immense distraction. Not to mention discomfort.
That he was increasingly drawn to her—that this particular itch wasn’t going to fade of its own accord or through constant exposure to the source of the irritation—was now evident.
What he should do about it…that was a different matter. Given she was his chatelaine and a vital cog in the machinery of Bellamy Hall, his way forward was anything but clear.
The old coach slowed, then turned through a set of stone gateposts and rolled on along a graveled drive. It was too dark to see much outside, but soon, a pool of warm light enveloped the coach as it drew into a narrow forecourt before a prosperous-looking manor house.
The coachman halted the horses, and the footman dropped to the gravel and came to open the door.
Gregory descended first. He straightened his coat, then turned and offered Caitlin his hand.
She gripped it, and he closed his hand and assisted her down the coach’s steep steps. Once on the gravel, she drew her fingers from his clasp, and he forced himself to let her go.
They both stepped aside, and she shook out her skirts while the others joined them. Casting his eye over their number, he had to admit that, dressed for the evening in silks and suits, they might have been guests turning up at a ton ball. Julia looked handsome in her purple-silk gown, while for once, Joshua, Percy, and Vernon looked the part of the gentlemen they actually were.
He glanced around, scanning the forecourt and noting the number of carriages already there and still arriving. Given there were six in their party alone, it seemed this would be a sizeable gathering. Still, it wouldn’t be anything like a full-scale ton event; he felt confident he would cope.
As a group, they started up the front steps and were admitted into a well-lit hall. A butler appeared with several footmen to take their coats, then beside Caitlin—too wary to claim her arm—Gregory went forward to meet Lord and Lady Loxton, who were standing in the drawing room doorway, welcoming their guests.
Their party paused to allow those ahead of them to finish exchanging greetings. Gregory seized the moment to study their hosts.
Lady Loxton was a well-endowed matron old enough to have married off her children long ago and, hence, be entirely free to indulge in the enjoyment of entertaining without any ulterior motives. She looked gay and carefree, and there was a sense of settled contentment in her soft, lined face.
Her spouse was a large, heavyset man of about sixty years old. Gray-white curls covered his head, and the features of his heavy-jowled face looked comfortable and well-worn. He was well-dressed, but in a fashion hailing from a decade or so past, yet that, too, contributed to the image of aged yet benign wisdom he projected. A no doubt useful persona, given he was the local magistrate.
The guests in front moved into the drawing room. Caitlin glided forward, and Gregory went with her.
