Chapter Four
Harriet’s breath had frozen in her lungs at Paul’s announcement. Good God, had the man run mad?
His stern admonishment of Sir Ambrose had brought complete and utter silence to the hall; whether from shock or horror, she wasn’t sure. But into that silence stepped an elderly man, a latecomer and the last of the guests to arrive.
“Well then,” he said, moving forward slowly with the aid of a cane. “I see we’re settling in.”
His presence was, for some reason, quite dominating, realized Harriet. His eyes were hooded, and his face wrinkled, but his voice was clear and well-modulated. He might have been speaking to a few people or a crowd of thousands…it would have made no difference. He wore a mane of white hair with casual aplomb, and a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache of the same color glowed against the dark collar of his cape.
She felt the strength of his personality as he walked up to her. “My dear, I hope you and your husband will forgive the crass stupidity of some of your guests. Please know we are looking forward to a charming visit in this lovely house, and perhaps some delightful winter activities, if the weather holds.”
Harriet, drowning in the winning combination of his voice and his smile, curtseyed. “Of course, sir. And welcome.”
It seemed that his arrival had signalled a need on the part of the others to find their quarters. Immediately. The hall cleared of guests and servants, leaving only the elderly man with Paul and Harriet, while two footmen and a maid carried in the last of the luggage.
“My apologies sir, I don’t believe I have the honor of knowing whom I am addressing?” Paul bowed deeply. It seemed that he too, felt the imposing personality within this elderly gentleman.
“I am Vernwood,” came the response.
“My Lord,” Paul bowed again. “We are honored. There was no mention of your accompanying this party…”
“Rest easy, lad.” The Earl grinned. “I’m long past the point of expecting servants to wipe my damned titled arse.”
Harriet bit back a laugh. “It’s truly an honor, my Lord. And thank you for your forbearance. We shall do all in our power to make your stay a pleasant one.”
“I appreciate that, my dear. And I look forward to warm fires, good food and not too much drama from the rest of ‘em.” He sighed. “I wanted to get away from town. Farren isn’t a bad chap, but—like so many of us—he has relatives. I’m beginning to think that outlawing relatives might not be the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“You travelled in your own carriage, I understand,” smiled Paul.
“Indeed I did. You won’t catch me trapped in a small box with those idiots.” He paused. “Pardon me. I’m being inappropriate, which usually means I need a nap. So if you, dear girl,” he lifted his arm toward Harriet, “will show me to my room, I will indulge myself for an hour or so.” He glanced at Paul. “I’m not kidnapping your wife. Much too old for that. Just so you understand…” His grin was wicked, the lips curving cheerfully beneath the white ruffle of hair.
“I understand, sir. Rest well and tea will be ready for you when you wake.” Paul bowed again.
The Earl allowed Harriet to take his arm and together they began the ascent to the second floor. Harriet was congratulating herself for having cleaned out a suite of rooms at the far end of the corridor; it had been the last one and she’d almost left it, but it was a delightful space and would serve this distinguished gentleman well, she believed.
They spoke of his journey—long and bumpy—and of the house itself—chilly on darker days, but overall welcoming. A general conversation that lasted until she opened the doors to his rooms.
“Ah,” he sighed, walking in and across the room to the beautiful bow windows overlooking the winter landscape. “Nowthisis what I’d hoped for.” He turned and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Well done, Mrs. Harry. I shall be most content here.”
“I do hope so, my Lord.” She opened another door. “Your bedroom is here, and there is a small room next to it for a valet…” Her voice tapered off with the implied question.
“I’ll be sharing Farren’s,” he answered. “So no worries there. I don’t need much these days so the poor man won’t be run off his feet. And what I do need, I believe I shall find here.”
“I hope so.” Harriet couldn’t help smiling back.
There was a tap on the door and she turned to find a footman with some bags. She glanced back at the Earl. “I shall leave you to your rest, sir. And look forward to seeing you later.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
She eased herself quietly from the room and closed the door, her heart in her throat at the thought of the mess she and Paul now found themselves in.
First things first…she dashed upstairs to the servant’s floor, hoping that they were all still busy settling their masters and mistresses. Heaving a breath of relief at the quiet stillness, she hurried to the room she’d been using, grabbed everything of hers out of it and went to the next room, tossing it all on Paul’s bed. There was no time to think of the implications at this point, not if she were to ensure credibility for their story.
The fur blanket followed, she remade her old bed with fresh linens, and then tried to force her breathing back to normal. It was hard work, but after a few moments, she felt composed enough to retrace her steps downstairs, only to continue on into the servants’ hall below.
Cook was hard at work with her daughters, making delicious looking things that smelled even better, so Harriet left them to it. As she turned to find Paul, he emerged from a side room that he had appropriated as his office. It was where he’d spend time putting together schedules for the servants, marking time records, and so on.
He dragged her back inside and shut the door.
