It hadn’t helped matters that, later the same evening, the younger Hartness had been caught kissing the widowed Lady Penrith out on the balcony. Honestly, it was as Catherine had said. Though Lord Christopher was amusing, he needed quite a bit of settling down before anyone would seriously consider him in a matrimonial light. Despite the fact he was now a viscount, marrying him would be nothing but trouble.
“In any case,” Lady Fortnum said, “I’ve decided upon it. We’ll depart for West Sussex early next week. The dowager duchess has requested we arrive on December eleventh.”
Catherine shrugged, then grinned at her sister’s dismayed expression. “Don’t look so downcast. There will be dancing and games and all manner of fun. And no matter what Mother says, neither of us are under any obligation to try and snare a husband. I, for one, intend to enjoy myself.”
Abigail wrinkled her nose. “Not all of us are as frivolous as you, Catherine.”
“Spoken like an old maid. Now who’s the one destined for spinsterhood?”
“Girls.” With a reproving clack, Lady Fortnum placed her cup into its saucer. “No quibbling during tea, if you please. Tomorrow we’ll get you fitted for new gowns. I want my daughters to shine.”
Catherine nodded. She’d spotted a lovely gold satin brocade at the modiste’s during her last visit, and this would be the perfect excuse to talk her mother into the extravagance. Especially if she pretended to agree to set her cap for the stuffy Duke of Darton-on Rye.
CHAPTER 2
Philip,along with his secretary and valet, arrived at Darton Hall as promised on December eleventh. Aunt Agatha welcomed him, instructed the footmen to deliver his trunks to the Ivory Suite, and led him to the study. With a jerk of his head, Philip indicated that Smith, his secretary, should accompany them.
Stepping into the room, Philip drew in a deep breath and suddenly felt as though he were ten years old, running in to ask his uncle a question. The study was redolent with his late uncle’s tobacco, the pipe stand still waiting upon the mantel for the former duke to return and linger over a brandy and smoke.
Darton Hall had always been a refuge. Being childless themselves, the duke and duchess had doted upon Philip and his brother. The family had spent Christmases there until Philip was twelve. Then the tension between his father and uncle had broken into the open with a bitter argument that neither would apologize for, and the happy times at Darton came to an end.
“We have so much to do,” the dowager duchess said, her deep purple skirts rustling as she rounded the heavy oak desk. “Do peruse this list.”
She slid a paper toward him. With an inward sigh, he picked it up and read:
1. Secure Assembly Rooms for Christmas Cotillion. Ask Ladies Auxiliary for assistance in their Decoration
2. Determine which Tenants are in need of Christmas Dinner. Plan Accordingly
The first items weren’t that difficult. He’d pen an appropriately humble request to the Ladies Auxiliary and send Smith to book the rooms. As for Christmas Dinner, no doubt Aunt Agatha had already planned the menu. He and Smith would go over the accounts, with assistance from the dowager duchess of course. Though, recalling his uncle’s generosity, Philip suspected thatallthe tenants would be the recipients of Darton Hall’s bounty.
3. Deck Darton Hall with boughs of Holly and the like
That seemed a task for the servants. He made a mental note to consult the housekeeper about the traditional Christmas décor, then leave it in her capable hands.
4. Prepare for Guests
Tamping down his alarm, he looked over at his aunt. “What guests? If this has become an elaborate house party -”
“Tut, Philip. When did you become such a serious boy?” Aunt Agatha shook her finger at him.
When I inherited a dukedom, he almost said, but bit his tongue. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. In fact, he was beyond honored. It was only that the duties of Darton-on-Rye, on top of the earldom he’d come into upon his father’s untimely death five years ago, weighed heavily upon his shoulders.
Meanwhile, Christopher flitted about as though his new viscountcy was of no concern, its responsibilities as light as a feather.
“What guests?” he repeated, a bit tiredly. “I thought this was to be just family.”
“Your second cousins are family,” she said, arching one brow. “And what is Christmas without children?”
“Quiet.”
She ignored his comment, and continued, “I’ve also invited two families down from London. The Shelbournes, and Viscountess Fortnum.”
“Ah.” Realization thudded into him. “If I’m not mistaken, both those families have daughters of a marriageable age. I warn you, Aunt, I’m in no position -”
“Ridiculous!” She waved her hand, batting away his words as though they were pesky gnats. “You are in the verybestposition. And it’s not as though I’ve invited every debutante of the season. I have it on excellent authority that the young ladies are all of the highest order, and quite suitable.”
Philip pressed his lips together and considered what he knew of the families in question. Miss Shelbourne was, if he recalled aright, a quiet, dark-haired girl. He’d been seated across from her at a dinner party once, and she hadn’t spoken more than two words to him the entire time.
