“Joshua and Ferdinand will see you to your room,” the marquess said. “It’s good to have you here, Wetherby. I hope we can make your stay a pleasant one.”
The earl bowed and made a suitable reply.
“Well, Justin,” Joshua Ridley, Lord Beresford, said, grinning and extending his right hand as the two older men moved away. “You have come as the proverbial lamb to the slaughter, have you?”
The earl shook his head. “I am approaching my thirtieth birthday,” he said. “It’s time, Josh. How old are you? Twenty-six? Seven? And heir to a marquess and to this?” He gestured toward the house and the land about it. “Your time will come soon enough and then we will see how broadly you grin.”
Ferdinand Handsforth, Lord Carver, laughed rather more loudly than the joke seemed to merit. “He has you there, Josh, you must admit,” he said. “You tell him, Wetherby. Josh always likes to have the last word.”
“You won’t be immune, either, Ferdie, my lad,” Lord Beresford said, “being the grandson of a marquess and a baron since your father’s passing. Not that Ferdie will have to be coerced, of course, Justin. Even at the grand age of twenty-four he is a bachelor much against his will. But what woman would ever have him with that carrot top?”
“Oh, I say,” Lord Carver said as the other two had a good laugh at his expense. “A low blow, Josh. It tempts one to make remarks about your limp.”
Lord Beresford grinned. “Acquired at Waterloo in service of my country, Ferdie,” he said. “The ladies find it quite irresistible. You will have to try again. Here is your room, Justin. You will doubtless be delighted to have one final half-hour of quiet and privacy. The place is fairly crawling with family members—most of them ours and only a few of your own.”
“You are surrounded by us,” Lord Carver said cheerfully. “We are making it impossible for you to cry off, you see, Wetherby.”
“Ah,” the earl said, “I see. But what if I am here entirely by personal inclination?”
“It would not be surprising,” Lord Beresford said, grinning and slapping him on the back. “Annabelle is a pretty young thing. And talking of pretty young things, she has brought her aunt with her. Very fetching indeed, Justin. Too bad you won’t be able to compete with me for her favors.” He winked.
The earl found himself smiling as he closed the door of his bedchamber behind him. Henri, his valet, was already busy in his dressing room, he could see. It was good to be among friends again. Good to have plenty of people with whom to distract his mind.
He was looking forward to seeing Annabelle again, to getting to know her better in the relaxed atmosphere of a country home. He was going to make every effort to develop a friendship with her and a fondness for her over the next two weeks. Finally the past was permanently and irrevocably behind him. This was his present and his future. He was going to start it with a willingness and an eagerness to make a happy life for both himself and Annabelle.
There was no sense in brooding. He was going to stop doing it that very day. He strode across the bedchamber to the dressing room to see what clothes Henri had set out for him to change into.
Lana and Annabelle had already gone downstairs to tea without her, Rosamund discovered in some annoyance when she knocked on their doors. It was all the fault of the maid who had been sent to help her. She had told the girl that she did not like her hair styled elaborately, but the maid had made of it a marvelous creation, anyway. Rosamund had ordered her take it down and start all over again.
And now she was going to have to make a grand entrance all alone. Bother, she thought. It was so long since she had been at Brookfield and met all the family members that she felt almost shy. It was very silly, since she was not by nature a shy person. But having spent nine years in the confined neighborhood of Leonard’s home in Lincolnshire, she had grown staid, she supposed. On their arrival she had seen only the marquess and marchioness. And she had glimpsed two young gentlemen from a distance, but she had not been able to identify them.
Oh, well, she thought, squaring her shoulders and making for the staircase, she could not cower in her room for the rest of the day. And she did know most of these people, after all, and had always liked them. The only ones she did not know were the Earl of Wetherby and his family members. But then their attention would be focused all on Annabelle, anyway. She was not going to start giving in to shyness at her advanced age.
Fortunately, when she stepped inside the drawing room, she was immediately taken to the ample bosom of Lady Newton and had to make no effort at all to break into a group.
“Rosamund,” Lady Newton said, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek, “how very fine you look, my dear. I hope you had not too unpleasant a journey. I was so very sorry to hear of the passing of your husband.”
“Thank you,” Rosamund said. “Goodness,” She looked at the two young ladies with Lady Newton. “Eva and Pamela? But you were just children the last time I saw you. Of course, I must have been only fifteen or sixteen myself.” She looked around for the eldest Newton sister. “Is Valerie here?”
“With her betrothed,” Lady Newton said, indicating her eldest daughter, who was sitting behind the tea tray across the room, a thin young man at her side.
“I must pay my respects to her,” Rosamund said.
But a touch on her arm delayed her and she found herself looking up into the long, narrow, heavy-browed face of the Reverend Tobias Strangelove, great-nephew of the marchioness. The first thing she noticed was that he was quite as abnormally tall as she remembered and that he had grown a great deal balder.
“Lady Hunter?” he said, and he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “May I say how gratified I am that you have seen fit to grace my great-uncle’s house party with your lovely presence?”
“Toby,” she said, “how lovely to see you again. But you are the Reverend Strangelove now, aren’t you? Perhaps I should call you by your title or Tobias at the very least.” She smiled.
“I do usually deplore familiarity to men of the cloth,” he said, “since a person addressing a clergyman is really addressing the Church with all its solemn traditions. Indeed, it could even be said that he is addressing the almighty, since clergymen are his representatives on earth. But on your lips, my dear Lady Hunter, Toby sounds quite unexceptionable.”
No, Toby had not changed one little bit apart from the hair. “Then you must call me Rosamund, as you used to do,” she said lightly.
“It would be too presumptuous, you being the respectable widow of a respected baronet, Lady Hunter,” he said. “But I will treasure in my heart your great condescension in offering such a mark of friendship and personal favor. Have you met his lordship?”
“The Earl of Wetherby?” she said. “No, never. Is he here?”
“He is conversing with your dear niece,” the Reverend Strangelove said. “A very elegant and amiable gentleman, as I am sure you will agree. It is a tribute to your brother’s good sense and diplomatic skills that he has been netted for Annabelle.”
