Morrison whispered. “I believe they are fans.”
“How many are there?”
“Eight.”
Thomas blanched. “You let eight young ladies in.”
Morrison flushed. “They more or less pushed their way in, insisting they stay.”
Perhaps one of them would be C, Thomas considered. He nodded. “Thank you, Morrison. I will see to it.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t convince them to leave.”
Thomas grinned. “I imagine eight ladies are an overwhelming force to deal with.”
Morrison shuddered. “Sir, I can’t fathom how you handle it all.”
It was starting to wear on Thomas lately. He wouldn’t lie to himself. The first few days of people fawning over him had been flattering, but recently, he’d just wanted peace. Sighing, he headed to the drawing room. Once he reached it, he took a deep breath and entered.
In unison, seven very young women screeched excitedly. There was one comparably older lady, whom he suspected was a chaperone, who grimaced at the noise. They stood and excitedly started talking. A lady who seemed to be leading the craziness whistled. “He can’t hear any of us.”
The older woman shook her head, appearing horrified. The leader of the group said, “I’m Lady Chloe, and we are fans of your serials. We meet every week to discuss your adventures.”
Her name began with a C. Another lady said, “I’m Lady Chelsea, and I have reread your serials more than ten times.”
Christ, another C name. Thomas smiled and said, “How about each of you introduce yourself?”
They did one by one, and of course, there was another C name. He stopped in front of the woman, who was closer to his age. She smiled and mouthed, “Sorry.”
He smiled back. Louder, she said, “Miss Georgina Sanders. I’m Lady Chloe’s companion and chaperone. I apologize that we have descended on your home.”
Thomas nodded and addressed all the young women. “I would ask, ladies, that next time you schedule something. I do have a prior engagement, but don’t fret, I plan to host bi-weekly lectures at my wife’s club, the Historical Society for Female Curators.”
More squeals erupted, and Thomas winced. He wasn’t sure any of these ladies were truly C. Hoping to weed out if someone could be, he asked, “Have any of you ever sent me a letter abroad?”
Lady Chloe’s eyes flared with excitement. “We could have done that?”
More chatter increased. No, he suspected none of these ladies were C. From the text of the missives, that lady seemed far more serious than any of these young women.
Miss Sanders addressed the girls. “We should leave as Mr. Easton has another engagement.”
A young lady said, “Would you at least sign my serial?”
He’d received dozens of these requests since returning to England, but it always startled him that someone would want his signature. “I will sign whatever you have brought, and then I must send you on your way.”
All seven ladies waited while he signed something for each one. It was four serials, a handkerchief, a card with flowers, and a piece of paper. Thomas and Morrison began to usher them out into the foyer when Lisbeth and Benjamin entered. Lisbeth looked around at all the ladies in shock. Benjamin’s eyes met his, and he started to chortle. The blasted man delighted in the mess. Still, Thomas couldn’t stop the smile from filling his face. He’d missed him.
As the ladies filed past Lisbeth and Benjamin, only Miss Sanders stopped before her and provided a small curtsy. “Sorry, Your Grace, for the chaos. They wanted to visit the famed Thomas Easton.”
Lisbeth politely nodded. Once the door was shut, she turned back to Thomas and Morrison. The butler said, “Your Grace—Mrs. Easton, I mean, they descended on us.”
Thomas shook his head. “Morrison, it isn’t your fault. I will speak with my wife.”
Morrison looked at Lisbeth, who nodded in agreement. The butler rushed off. Lisbeth lifted a brow. “Should I expect ladies to call upon you daily?”
Benjamin snickered and said, “I will join the two of you in the drawing room. I know where you keep the brandy, Lisbeth.”
They waited for him to leave the foyer, and Thomas peered at her. He’d expected her to laugh at the chaos, but the emotions emitting from her seemed darker. His eyes widened. “You can’t be jealous of those ladies, Lizzie. I’m not sure if they are even out for the season.”
