Zoë put aside her pencil and pad and gave Milly her full attention. “She’s planning to marry you to some stranger you’ve never met?”
“Oh, I’ve met him. He’s seen me and likes me verymuch. I just don’t yet know which of the gentlemen I’ve met he is.” Her voice wobbled as she said it.
Zoë could hardly believe her ears. “And you’ve agreed to this?”
Milly gave an awkward half shrug. “Mama knows what’s best for me.” But her voice lacked conviction, and it was clear to Zoë she was simply parroting her mother.
“Well, I wouldn’t do it. I think it’s outrageous.”
Milly stared at her for a long moment, then burst out, “I hate you, Zoë Ben-whahhhh,” and rushed off.
Zoë stared after her. She knew Milly’s mother was ambitious, but this was appalling.
Chapter Eleven
Julian Fox, the seventh Earl of Foxton, sent his curricle and groom around to the mews, then ran lightly up the steps of Foxton House in Mayfair and rang the bell. The door opened immediately.
The butler, Purvis, ushered him in with restrained butlerish delight. “Welcome home, my lord. We weren’t expecting you so early. Home for Christmas, is it?” The smile slid from his face as he saw what was standing beside Julian, panting slightly and waving a ragged tail. His gaze tracked from the large and scruffy animal to the lead in Julian’s hand, then he said with faint disbelief, “Is thatyouranimal, my lord?”
“It is. His name is Hamish,” Julian said, offering him the lead. “Give him a drink of water in the kitchen, will you, Purvis?”
“Inthe kitchen, m’lord? I don’t think Cook will—”
“Or the scullery or even outside. Hamish isn’t fussy and it’s only for a short while. We’re not staying.”
Relieved, Purvis accepted the lead gingerly, saying,“Very well, m’lord. I will consign the animal to the care of the second footman, who has an affinity with such creatures. You will find your grandmother in the green drawing room.”
Julian frowned. “I don’t recall a green drawing room.”
Purvis tsked and shook his head. “I’m sorry, m’lord, I forgot. M’lady had it redecorated several months ago. It used to be the pink drawing room. Shall I announce you?”
“No need. I know the way. You take care of Hamish.” Julian headed to the erstwhile pink drawing room, gave a perfunctory knock on the door and entered.
His grandmother looked up from the magazine she was perusing. “Foxton, finally, you have deigned to return.”
“As you see, Grandmama.” He bowed over her hand.
“And what have you been up to in the last few months? Gadding about with who knows whom, I suppose, and getting up to who knows what!”
He inclined his head. “That’s it, my life in a nutshell.”
She glared at him. “Frittering your life away when you have responsibilities here! Leaving the estate to go to rack and ruin!”
“Is Cartwright dead, then?” he said mildly. Cartwright was his very efficient and capable estate manager.
“No, of course not!”
“Has he left my employ?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Become a drunkard?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You know very well the man is a teetotaler.”
“Then I fail to see the problem. Cartwright is doing the job he is employed to do, and doing it well, as I discovered when I called in on my man of business yesterday. He delivered an excellent report on the state of my various properties and businesses.”
She drew herself up in outrage. “You called on your man of business before coming to seeme?”
