A sound attracted her attention upward as Trick lifted her from the gig, and she caught sight of a flag fluttering over one wing.
Doubtless it was the Fairhurst crest, and it signalled Sir Amery was in residence.
Good lord, the man had a very high opinion of himself…that was for sure. She would need all her wits about her this evening, even with Trick’s presence.
He carried her gently up the steps to the door, where Sir Amery appeared to welcome her.
“Dear Lady Adalyn, you have arrived. An accident, I heard? How terrible…and yet you have still done me the honour of accepting my invitation, and here you are on my doorstep. A miracle indeed. Won’t you come in?”
Thus bid, she nodded and crossed his threshold in Trick’s arms. She had entered the lair of Sir Amery Fairhurst.
Chapter Eleven
The mansion that comprised the seat of the Fairhurst estate was as intimidating as one might imagine. And the interior reflected the elegant and stifling superiority of the owner himself.
Clad in scrupulously correct evening garb, Sir Amery’s cravat was a thing of beauty, rising in waves of flawless linen folds above a waistcoat that borrowed heavily from some long-past Chinese dynasty. His hallway was also rather overwhelming, with an abundance of dark wood panels, beams that criss-crossed the ceiling and a fireplace that could have roasted not only an ox, but several sheep and more than a few chickens, all at the same time.
The floor shone, the servants’ buttons were buffed and polished to a fare-the-well, and the whole picture was so intimidating Adalyn wondered if she was terribly underdressed for the evening.
While trying to phrase an appropriate response to the florid welcome, Judith Fairhurst appeared, setting Adalyn’s mind at rest. Her gown was also stylish, but much less so than her surroundings.
“Dear Lady Adalyn,” she smiled shyly as she crossed the hall and dropped a quick curtsey. “I am so glad you could join us.”
“As am I, Miss Fairhurst. I was about to thank your uncle for the honour of an invitation.” She returned Judith’s smile and turned to Sir Amery. “I must also express my gratitude for your kind note of earlier today, Sir Amery. Fortunately, as you see, other than my needing this cane and my trusty helper—” she threw a quick glance at Trick, “I am able to move around reasonably well.”
“We are thrilled to hear it, Lady Adalyn. Let us celebrate with a little sherry before dinner. Can I tempt you?” He gave her a warm look, his eyes drifting over her gown in a way she found slightly disconcerting.
“How lovely.” Before he could extend his arm, Trick was at her side. “Ma’am.” He picked her up without further ado.
“Oh my,” whispered Judith. “What a helpful servant.”
“My Lady is not to put weight on her ankle if she can avoid it, Miss,” said Trick respectfully. “I have my orders from Mr. Giles.”
“It is easier this way,” added Adalyn. “The cane is for support, should I need to stand for more than a moment or two…but moving around…” she paused and tilted her head toward Trick, “this has proved to be the most effective method.”
“Well, in that case,” harrumphed Sir Amery. “Follow me.”
To say he strode away in irritation would be overstating matters, but Adalyn felt a quick squeeze from one of Trick’s hands and knew he had interpreted the situation just as she had. Sir Amery was not best pleased.
Judith walked beside them, chattering about mundane topics and asking Adalyn if she was using a poultice on her ankle.
Such kind inquiry warranted a like response, and so the two young women arrived in the parlour in mutual harmony with each other.
“Judith, do stop your inane prattle. Lady Adalyn must not be burdened so early in our evening.” Sir Amery poured the amber liquid into sparkling crystal glasses. “My Lady?”
Trick set her down and handed her the cane, bowing and retreating to the side of the room, where he stood still with his hands crossed low in front of him. The perfect servant. She seated herself.
Sir Amery paid him no attention at all, but poured a glass for Adalyn.
She accepted it with a polite smile as he brought it to her chair. “I thank you, Sir. Most kind.”
He passed one to Judith without comment, then turned back to Adalyn. “It is a pleasure to see you here in this setting, my dear. I have long awaited a guest whose beauty would outshine her surroundings, and here you are.” He raised his glass to her.
She knew she should have been flattered, but all she wanted to do was laugh at the effusive encomium. However, with effort, she managed to nod in acceptance of his compliments.
“You are too kind, Sir Amery. As if anyone could outshine such an intriguing room. Pray tell me, sir. The lady over the fireplace—a beautiful portrait indeed. An ancestor perhaps?”
Nothing loth, he launched into a detailed description of both the lady—a Fairhurst great aunt—and the technique of the painter, who Adalyn had never heard of. Since the subject herself had a formidable nose, a fierce expression and a dog on her lap whose eyes bulged more than they should have, Adalyn could only school her features to reflect a fascination she did not feel.
