“Please, Mrs. Phippen, no need to stand on formalities here in the country.” He waved her back toward her book with a gloved hand. “I’m an old family friend who shared rooms with Mina’s brothers at Eton. I reside just down the road, at Edgewood House.”
When he gathered Bruin’s reins in preparation to walk on toward the stables, he was momentarily surprised by wild scratching at his riding boots. He reached down and picked up the annoyed calico cat who promptly raked his claws across the skin bared above his gloves. “And who is this, Poppet?” Julian pulled out a handkerchief to mop and press at the trickle of blood drawn by the angry feline.
Mina flashed him an incredulous look. “That’s Cinnamon. You sent him to me years ago.”
Julian smiled. “Of course I did. He was a barn kitten at Edgewood. I trust he’s been a good fellow all these years?”
“He saved me from old Nurse.”
Julian stiffened at her revelation, but decided it was time to change the subject. “Are your brothers at home?”
The Mina he remembered resurfaced just when he’d despaired of seeing her old naughty self again. She leaned close, as if disclosing a great secret. “They’re both in London where Papa says they’re drinking and gambling him into pen-U-ry.”
“Mina—.” Her governess’s voice held sharp reprove. She firmly tucked her book beneath her arm and nodded her head in the direction of the Abbey.
Julian couldn’t breathe for a moment when his friends’ younger sister tipped her wide-brimmed straw hat so that only he could see and gave him a slow wink before turning and racing after her governess.
6
Julian walked through the din of activity in the stable yard at the Abbey where the neighborhood blacksmith was repairing wagon and carriage parts. A groom stepped from the cool depths of the Abbey stables and took Bruin’s reins.
“He’s earned a bag of oats and a rubdown,” Julian said, while smoothing his hand down Bruin’s neck. He’d noticed Viscount Rumsford’s favorite curricle in the yard, so assumed he was home from the latest session of Lords. He hadn’t talked to his friends’ father since Julian had returned from Rhodes, and he’d missed the man’s company.
While walking back toward the main house through the stable, he also noticed a fine stallion in one of the stalls he knew must be owned by Lord Rumsford’s friend, Sir Thomas, who was as much of a fixture from his childhood as the viscount. The two had always seemed inseparable, which had never seemed odd to Julian until he’d left Eton and heard some of the gossip at his club in London.
There were never overt accusations, only innuendo…that Lord Rumsford and Sir Thomas were more than just friends. When he’d first heard the topic raised over a late card game with some of his town friends, he’d protested. But then later, back at the estate, he’d discreetly questioned Beesley.
That had been an odd conversation over brandy with his elderly retainer, Harwood Beesley.
After Julian had repeated what he’d heard, he’d asked him outright, “That cannot possibly be true. What do you think?”
Beesley had smiled and taken another sip, followed by a long silence during which Julian thought surely he was either falling asleep, or, God forbid, had suffered a fit of apoplexy. When the older man finally spoke, it was not to answer Julian, but to present him instead with a question. “If what you’ve heard is true, would that change your regard for the viscount and his family? Would you distance yourself from the Tindalls and give them the cut direct if your path crossed theirs in London?”
They’d stared at each other for a very long time before Julian had simply shaken his head and finished his brandy.
* * *
Viscount Rumsford was a powerfully builtman with dark, curly hair whose thick biceps strained at his riding jacket. He definitely looked the part of someone who worked out regularly at Jackson’s gym when he was in town.
In contrast, his friend, Sir Thomas, was tall and slender, with the look of a man who spent many hours in the saddle. His fine stable at Clifford Park in Middlesex was his pride and joy.
Viscount Rumsford’s study was a paean to elegance. Buttery brown leather, enormous over-stuffed chairs clustered around a fireplace with a crackling blaze.
The Turkey carpet glowed in jewel and earth tones that reminded him of his study trip to Rhodes. The viscount and Sir Thomas sprawled in front of the fireplace on scattered cushions, their boot-encased legs stretched toward the cheerful fire.
For one odd moment, Julian wondered at how comfortable the two men seemed together and then dismissed the thought out of hand.
“Julian—. When did you get back from your tour of the continent? We’ve missed you.”
“I…I came to check in on Lady Wilhelmina before I start classes at Oxford in a few weeks to read French history with Dr. Bolen.”
Lord Rumsford stood and went to the sideboard where he filled a glass with a rich amber liquid from a decanter. “I’m glad you’re here.I’m afraid you may have gotten the wrong impression over the years.”
When he turned back to Julian, his eyes seemed to mist over. “I want to make sure you understand my Mina is a much-loved child, in spite of what you might think. I got rid of that old termagant, Nurse. Over the last few months, I’ve hired a governess to, um, smooth out Mina’s rough edges and make sure that clever mind of hers doesn’t gallop off in the wrong direction.”
He paused and exchanged a glance with Sir Thomas who raised his glass as well. “To Mina.”
Her father and Julian echoed the toast.
