The man’s eyes went glacial. One last long stare and he pushed past them, fairly leaping down the steps.
“Dear me,” Margery whispered.
Lenora stared after him, eyes wide with shock. “That man is the Duke of Dane’s heir?”
“It appears so,” her friend replied.
Mr. Ashford mounted up, kicking his horse into a gallop. Within seconds, he was thundering down the drive and out of sight.
“Perhaps,” Margery said faintly, “we’d best find out from Gran what’s going on.”
They hurried through the house, silent and tense. Their footsteps clattered on the marble floor, echoing about the expanse of the great hall. So that was the man who would become the new duke when the present one passed away. The man who had taken Hillram’s place as heir. Lenora’s stomach roiled.
They burst into Lady Tesh’s downstairs sitting room. The viscountess didn’t look up as they entered, her gnarled fingers working thread with impressive ease into her embroidery. “Have you made your decision then, Peter?”
“So that truly was Peter Ashford that we saw leaving just now,” Margery said, moving close to kiss her grandmother on her cheek.
Lady Tesh gasped, her gaze flying to her granddaughter. “Oh, goodness. Margery. Whatever are you doing here?” Her sharp eyes swiveled to Lenora, her creased face breaking into a grin. “And Lenora? Well, isn’t this a treat? Goodness, child, but how lovely you are.”
Lenora moved forward to kiss the viscountess, a familiar warmth spreading through her. Here was the woman she had visited every summer as a child, the woman who had loved her as if she were her own granddaughter. Lenora had not seen her in three long years, not since Hillram’s death. She had begun to doubt that her return had been wise. Goodness knew what guilt it would dredge up, how it would pain her to be here again.
Yet perhaps, just perhaps, she would find some happiness and peace in coming back.
“You are looking well, Lady Tesh,” she said, taking a seat in a delicate embroidered chair.
“What is this ‘Lady Tesh’ nonsense?” the viscountess demanded. “We never used to be so formal. Don’t tell me your time in London has turned you into some uptight society miss.”
A smile crept across Lenora’s face. “No, ma’am, it hasn’t.”
“Good, for I shall not put up with it. You will call me Gran, as you always used to.”
“Jasper,” she called to the butler, who had followed in their wake, “bring in a fresh tea tray for my granddaughter and Miss Hartley, if you please, with lemonade for my young friend here.” She gifted Lenora with a wink. Lenora’s cheeks warmed with pleasure as she relaxed back against her seat. Lady Tesh had remembered her aversion to tea. It was a simple gesture, yet there was a feeling of coming home in it.
“I’m sorry we didn’t write before showing up unannounced, Gran,” Margery said, peeling off her gloves. “It was a…last-minute decision.”
“Was it now?” Lady Tesh looked at Lenora. “Why do I have the feeling this has to do with the lack of a ring on your finger, child?”
Lenora’s good mood vanished in a moment, the events of four days ago crashing through her. “It is exactly that, I’m afraid.”
The lines in Lady Tesh’s face deepened. “I’m sorry to hear it.” She paused before continuing, her voice pensive, “That is three failed engagements in as many years.”
Lenora’s mouth twisted. “Yes. My father made certain to point that out as well.”Among other things.She gave a small shudder, the threat of him disowning her hanging over her head like an axe about to fall. It was an unwelcome, yet necessary, reminder that this was no pleasure visit.
Her thoughts must have shownon her face, for Lady Tesh’s gaze sharpened. “And what are your plans on the Isle?”
Ah, yes, her plans. “I’d hoped,” she said with a forced smile, “that I might visit all our old haunts, to remember the good times we had when we were young.”
“That sounds splendid, my dear,” Margery said with a soft smile. “I need a reminder of those days as well.”
Just then a scruffy ball of fur made itself known, jumping down from its spot next to Lady Tesh and approaching first Margery, then Lenora. It sniffed at Leonora’s toes a moment before, with all the grace of a queen, it placed a dainty paw on her leg.
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest,” Lenora murmured, bending forward to pat the dog on the head. The creature allowed it for a moment, bestowing a lick on Lenora’s knuckles with a tiny pink tongue, before it pranced back to Lady Tesh, jumping up and settling back against her side.
“This here is Freya,” the viscountess explained, giving her pet an affectionate scratch behind its ear.
“Freya?” Lenora said. “What an unusual name.”
“She’s named for a Viking goddess.”
