Lord Lakehurst said he would be writing, and the Duke said he was going to a scientific demonstration.
“I’ll stay close to the gallery,” Aidan told him, “So I can be available whenever you like.”
“Gwinnie and I are going to Richmond tomorrow,” Bella said.
“That is right, you have an appointment to see your new home,” Lady Malmsby said. “I believe I will accompany you, if you don’t believe you will need me for anything more tomorrow, Mr. Martin?”
Mr. Martin bowed to her. “Not at all, your grace.”
“That would be wonderful to have you with us,” Bella said.
“I’ll ask Cook to arrange a picnic for us,” Lady Malmsby suggested. “We shall make a day of it. I think we deserve it.”
Gwinnie nodded.
Bella clapped her hands together. “I should very much like that, after the events of the past two days.”
Mr. Martin bowed to them all and left.
Lady Malmsby rose, and the others rose as well. “I believe I will lie down before dinner,” she announced. “Oh, dash it. I suppose I should check on Silly Willy as well. Hmm, and maybe guilt Catherine into joining us for dinner instead of staying cooped in her bedroom suite of rooms.”
The others laughed and nodded as Lady Malmsby led them out of the room.
* * *
Liveliness at dinnergladdened Bella’s heart. Beside Don Joaquín joining the family, the Duchess had convinced Lady Catherine to attend, and Ann, Mrs. Hallowell, and the Duke of Ellinbourne were also in attendance. As Ann said, coming to dinner was the best way to find out the latest news regarding the shooting. And it was, for that topic of conversation was on everyone’s tongue.
“Merlin, how is your patient?” the Duke asked his son.
“Doing quite well. Perhaps not as well as he thinks he is doing. He is determined to quit his bed on the morrow.”
“Will you let him?” the Duke asked.
“I don’t think I could stop him!” Merlin said.
“He is quite determined,” added Lady Catherine. “He sent out letters to his associates, asking them to visit him tomorrow, and he won’t do that from his bed.”
The Duke grunted acknowledgment. He forked another bit of quail. “Mother, the sauce on this quail is superb,” he said, before raising the food to his mouth.
“Oh, you notice what you are eating? That’s new,” teased Gwinnie. “If Grandmother had not brought her chef with her, we would eat bland boiled beef and potatoes without sauce,” she told the company.
The company laughed.
“Sadly true,” Lord Lakehurst said. He reached for the salt cellar on the table before him at the same time the Don did, their hands colliding, spilling salt on the table.
Lord Lakehurst laughed.
“No! No! Do not laugh, my lord. You must quickly throw a pinch of the spilled salt over your shoulder like this,” the Spaniard said, taking a pinch of the spilled salt and tossing it over his shoulder. “This blinds El Diablo. If you do not, he will try to trick you and bind you to him.”
“I’ve never heard of that superstition. I could use that in one of my books,” Lord Lakehurst said.
“My heart, it is racing. Please my lord, do this for me,” the Don said earnestly, a sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead.
Everyone turned to the Spaniard, alarmed.
“Don Joaquín!” Gwinnie cried out. “Are you all right?” She searched his face earnestly.
“All right, all right. I will,” Lord Lakehurst agreed, shrugging good-naturedly. He took a pinch of salt and threw it over his shoulder as the Don did.
