Drew jumped out, holding out his hand as two footmen hurried down the steps, followed by a man who reminded Hester oddly of a mastiff.
“Good afternoon, Holly.” Drew greeted the giant.
“Mr. Sinclair,” he bowed, regarding Hester with curiosity. “The family awaits you in the drawing room.” He waved them forward. “They received your letter.”
“Splendid.”
Hester sat frozen in the carriage. “I’ll just wait here.”
“Will you be sleeping here as well? I believe there is a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs just for us.” He winked. “Stop stalling.”
She nodded and took Drew’s hand, allowing herself to be led up the steps, hearing the soft rustle of her blue and white striped silk skirts. Such finery took time to get accustomed to, but she did like her traveling outfit.
“Holly’s the butler,” Drew whispered to her, taking the opportunity to nip at the skin beneath her ear. “I believe he was once a criminal. I don’t recall. Tamsin found him.”
Her foot faltered as she went up the steps, and Hester had the urge to simply dig in her heels and refuse to go further.
“Don’t be stubborn,” Drew said under his breath.
“I’m not.”
“You were the other evening. Refusing to acknowledge the column you added incorrectly in the ledger. We are running a farm. You must pay attention.”
Hester’s cheeks stung as she blushed furiously at his comment.
She and Drew disagreed over the way the accounting was handled for Blackbird Heath mainly because Drew was always correct, and Hester didn’t care to admit it. The argument always ended with Hester spread out across the desk in the study, skirts tossed up, while Drew did—
Her face burned.
Anassortmentof things to her. All highly pleasurable. Hester had started intentionally making mistakes in the ledgers. Pretending she didn’t know how much feed she’d purchased. Or what the price was of a jar of honey.
Holly ushered them to the drawing room, opening the door with a bow.
Hester took a deep breath and took in the group of people scattered about the gorgeous room. The stunning woman seated on the settee, a glass of what must be Irish whiskey, dangling from her hand, must be Tamsin. She would have known Drew’s sister even if Tamsin didn’t look so much like her brother, because an overly large gentleman with blades of grass stuck on the sleeve of his coat hovered protectively over her slender form.
The Duke of Ware.
The handsome gentleman dressed expensively in a finely tailored coat had to be the Earl of Emerson, though he had no hint of Drew’s graceful elegance. Lord Emerson looked more like the men who used to brawl with her father in Horncastle’s taverns.
The woman by his side was Odessa, Lady Emerson. There was a slight, elderly woman seated on a chair in the corner, discreetly sipping on brandy. Miss Maplehurst was exactly as Drew had described her. And the lovely young woman dressed in pink silk, Aurora.
Hester took a deep breath. Drew had said, repeatedly, that she had nothing to fear from the Sinclairs. His family subsisted on the very edge of society and were considered somewhat scandalous, no matter that they now counted a duke and duchess among them.
If Tamsin possessed any real manners, Drew said he’d yet to see it. Ware collected insects. Odessa made wax masks of everyone’s face and told gruesome stories over the dinner table. Jordan raised pigs. And he despaired of his young sister Aurora with the flirtatious Miss Maplehurst as her chaperone.
The only one missing was Malcolm Sinclair, Drew’s twin brother. But Hester’s understanding was that he would arrive shortly for Aurora’s official debut. He was a mercenary. At least, Drew thought that’s what he did, now that Malcolm was no longer a soldier.
Hester had been promised she would be theleastodd person in attendance.
“Finally,” Tamsin sailed towards them, her eyes alight with curiosity. “You’re late as usual, Drew. I suppose you had to stop in every window between here and Lincolnshire to check your reflection.”
“Not once, dear sister.” Drew kissed Tamsin’s cheek. “And I’m sorry we’re late. We had a stop to make before reaching London. One of the utmost importance.”
“A game of whist doesn’t count.”
Drew pretended a great deal of mock outrage. “This was much more important than a game of cards.” He turned to Hester, love shining from his eyes. “We had to stop for a wedding.”
Lord Emerson nudged his wife in the ribs. “I told you,” he said softly.
Drew took Hester’s hand and pulled her close. “I’d like to introduce you all to my wife, Hester.”
