“I don’t know that one, ma’am. We must have the wassailers up to the house, however, and mummers if there are any hereabouts. A yule log and greenery about the place.”
Kitty saw a glint in Isabella’s eyes, and though it pleased her, she knew she was taunting for the joy of it.
“Now I must make haste, ma’am. If there are any items you would like from Town, please send me a note before we leave.”
No note came from the dowager, but Kitty did receive one from Isabella, asking for some new novels.Perhaps a slight breach in the citadel.
Chapter 25
They left before sunset, but traveled mostly in the dark, grateful for moonlight and hardly slackening speed along the good toll roads. Abbey horses had taken the traveling carriage to Chipping Norton, but from there they used four post-horses with frequent changes. One of the postilions sounded his horn as they approached every toll, so the gate was already opening for them when they reached it. Only rarely did they leave the coach at a change, for necessary relief.
Kitty had never before traveled at such unremitting speed and could only attempt not to show her exhaustion.
There was little conversation. Whatever the cause of this race to Town, it was not to be spoken of in front of Henry and Johns, and there was no need to speak of anything else. Sillikin seemed to pick up the mood and mostly slept on the floor, though she opened an eye now and then, as if to check that her humans were still all right.
The coach drew to a stop, and they could finally climb out into the biting night air. Kitty was bone-weary and her breath was misting, but the fashionable street was warm with gaslight, and the sounds of London were all around. She couldn’t help a smile as she recognized its fast, familiar pulse.
They hadn’t stopped in front of a typical Town housethat had been divided into two or three sets of rooms. This building stretched on either side of her with only one central door. Johns used the brass door knocker, and the door was opened by a sturdy, broad-shouldered manservant in greatcoat and gloves.
“Welcome ’ome, m’lord,” he growled.
A retired prizefighter to guard the door?
Dauntry gave his arm to Kitty and they went forward. “Thank you, Clark. Lady Dauntry will be with me for a while.”
The entrance hall was narrow but the staircase wide and gracious, and the whole was of fine, polished wood. Braydon escorted her up the stairs for one flight, and then they turned left, where he used a key to enter his rooms.
Kitty remembered once thinking, for the merest moment, that his rooms might be similar to the four rooms she’d lived in with Marcus. She’d known they’d be grander, but she’d had no idea.
His private entrance hall was small, but again the wood was fine and polished, and two paintings hung on the walls. They were small and probably Dutch, judging from the interior scene and the costumes. A mahogany wall clock ticked the seconds above a small table that held a Grecian vase, a silver tray, and a candle lamp. The candle wasn’t lit, but a fire in a room ahead spilled warmth, and a manservant was already lighting branches of candles there.
He turned to bow. “My lord! We weren’t expecting you.”
Yet he’d been preparing before we entered. A bell from the porter below to alert the household?
“I wasn’t expecting myself,” Braydon said. “My dear, this is Edward. You’ll find he’s a useful, knowledgeable young man.” Again he said, “Lady Dauntry will be here for a little while.”
Was he making sure the servants knew she wasn’t his light-o’-love? Or was the emphasis on the temporary nature of her stay? She knew some gentlemen’s rooms were bachelor only.
The candles illuminated a sitting room of modest size, but elegant enough to be called a drawing room. She almost felt she should apologize for putting her travel-worn half boots onto the thick carpet, and there were more objets d’art and pictures on the cream-colored walls. She saw two glossy mahogany doors to the left and right. Five rooms? Only one more than she’d had in Moor Street—but no. There must be a servants’ area somewhere, and as he had a cook, a kitchen. Her small kitchen had been one of the four.
“My apologies, my dear,” Braydon said to Kitty. “I must go out immediately. The servants will take good care of you.”
And then he was gone.
Kitty, Henry, Johns, and the footman stood in silent uncertainty. It was Sillikin trotting to the footman with friendship in mind that alerted Kitty to the fact that she was in charge here.
“Tea,” she said. “And something decent to eat, please, Edward. Johns, kindly show me what accommodation we have.”
Braydon’s rooms contained all one might find in the smaller sort of fashionable town house, but with the usual three or four floors laid out on one level. In addition to the parlor, she was shown a dining room where at least ten could dine and a small library with walls entirely of books. There were two good bedrooms, and off one, a dressing room with bath. That was clearly Braydon’s room.
She didn’t inspect the servants’ quarters, but she suspected that all the servants here were male. For tonight,at least, Henry must sleep with her in the second bedroom.
What struck Kitty was the quality. In its way, Braydon’s home was as fine as Beauchamp Abbey, but infinitely more welcoming. All the principal rooms were decorated with gleaming wood, papered walls, and beautiful objects that seemed chosen one by one rather than acquired for show.
She paused to admire a small bronze of a horse and rider.
She’d thought once that his rooms would tell her much about him. They did, but again it was daunting.
