“No, no, nothing, thank you,” she said softly as she turned to climb the red-and-gold carpeted stairs to the first floor.
“If you are needing a glass to fortify you, the library always has a bottle and glasses out,” the now disembodied voice of the footman said, as she slowly climbed the stairs.
Bella turned back and flashed a smile in the footman's direction. “Thank you,” she said. She climbed the stairs and turned toward the library, deciding the footman’s suggestion had merit. It struck her as typical in the Nowlton family for the staff to feel comfortable to offer suggestions. She liked that.
Faint light glowed from under the heavy wood-paneled door. She hadn’t been in this room; except for the first tour. A couple of oil lamps were lit, one on the beverage table.
Bella smiled. Keeping a lit lantern on the beverage table served as a testament to the footman’s assurance of the bottle and glass available, complete with the ability to see what one was doing.
“The one on the right is brandy. The one on the left is port,” said a man’s voice from the vicinity of the fireplace. It was Lord Lakehurst.
Bella didn’t jump at the sound of his voice. Though she had hoped to get her drink, then make her way up to her room where she could think about her brother‘s visit. Courtesy demanded otherwise.
Her brother had not been happy with her—gracious, he could whine like a toddler. She’d forgotten in the months since she last saw him how much hard work it could be to get him to listen to her, let alone understand her. He had been taught that gentlemen take care of the ladies, and he was determined to take care of his widowed sister in every wrong-headed way imaginable, and then some that weren’t imaginable.
She knew he meant well. Still, he exhausted her. She was glad he said Richmond was too far out for him. After their conversation this evening, she didn’t want to live with her brother.
But she didn’t want to live alone either. She knew what her heart wanted. Her heart wanted to turn back the clock three years. She wanted Aidan Nowlton, the upright, overly formal gallery owner, whose sense of duty to his family led him to believe he needed to run his family’s world. And she selfishly wanted him to herself.
She turned toward Lord Lakehurst. She could make out the dim shape of him reclining sideways, one leg over the upholstered chair arm. He sat backlit by a low fire in the fireplace.
“Do you have a recommendation, my lord?” Bella asked.
“Brandy,” he said. “French brandy, well-aged, never paid a farthing to customs,” he said, waving his glass before him.
Bella frowned. “Are you drunk, my lord?”
Lord Lakehurst laughed. “No, I haven’t arrived at that state yet. I just entered this room not five minutes before you. Go ahead, pour yourself a glass, then come sit with me and we can solve the riddles of the world together.”
Bella poured herself a glass of brandy, then went to sit in the facing chair to his. “So, what has you in the blue megrims, my lord,” Bella asked as she sat down. She kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet under her as she relaxed in the chair.
“Do you want to know? Do you really want to know? I promised the manuscript to my publisher next week, and I don’t know how the blasted book ends—and worse, this is not a problem I can ask Uncle Aidan to solve for me.”
“You shouldn’t have Uncle Aidan solve anything for you,” Bella remonstrated, wondering if all men dropped into toddler behavior when thwarted in some way.
Lord Lakehurst straightened in his chair. “Ah-ha! The lady has feelings for said Uncle Aidan.”
“Nonsense,” Bella briskly lied. “What I have are eyes and ears, and I see how you all treat him.”
Lord Lakehurst leaned back against the chair back. “And how do we treat him?” he asked.
“You depend on him to do anything you don’t feel like handling. All the business-of-life things.”
“Not true.”
“Let me ask you a question, and we will see if I am right or wrong. When you decided you needed to find a publisher for your manuscript, what did you do?”
“I asked—oh!” He laughed. “All right, you have me on that one. I asked Aidan to find out about publishers for a Gothic romance,” he admitted.
“If it is any consolation, everyone in your family does this. Who has taken charge of the investigation of the shooting? Who made the announcement to the guests last night? Why not the Duke whose house the incident occurred in, or you, his heir? You all assumed Aidan would take charge. And of course, he did. But why make that assumption?”
Lord Lakehurst spread his hands out. “Because he does?” he suggested.
“Not good enough,” she said tersely, her lips compressing tightly.
Lord Lakehurst looked at her in the dim light. Then he smiled.
“We need you, Lady Blessingame,” he told her.
