Ethel hung up Ariana’s pelisse and then took off her own cloak to put on a nearby hook. Kynaston shed his greatcoat and hung it up. His gloves and hat went on a side table and then he adjusted his sleeves and the cuffs of his shirt. He stepped in front of a wall mirror to check his black cravat before turning away.
Such instinctive attention to his appearance, and yet yesterday in the library he’d been a mess. Neat when sober, scruffy when drunk?
“Shall we explore?” he invited.
But now Ariana hesitated. “I’m not supposed to appear before the ton yet. The lady who opened the door looked rather fine.”
“Could you not have developed cold feet before we undressed?”
The word “feet” did it. Ariana marched out to face the fashionable foe.
As they entered the hall, someone knocked on the door. No one hurried to open it. Ariana waited for Kynaston to do so. When he didn’t, she opened it herself. Shecouldn’t remember ever opening a front door for others in her life. A plainly dressed couple nodded their thanks, entered, and went to the cloakroom in the manner of those well accustomed.
Ariana laughed. “I didn’t mind opening the door, but rather resent being left to close it after them. What a wealth of new experiences from a simple visit.”
“With more to come, I’m sure.”
“Clearly you disapprove, my lord. Having escorted us here, you may leave if you wish.”
“I’m entrusted with your care, Lady Ariana, and I confess to some curiosity of my own. Shall we go up?”
Ariana could hear conversation upstairs, so she agreed, telling Ethel to come with them.
Ethel’s status was always a little delicate, sitting as it did between lady companion and lady’s maid. In this relaxed household there seemed no reason to separate, and Ethel might find aspects of the place enjoyable. Her sturdy appearance could make people think her stolid, but she had a lively, curious mind. If Kynaston objected, he kept it to himself.
In fact he seemed withdrawn. Perhaps he had a drunkard’s head.
The simple doglegged stairs opened directly into a large room, which seemed to take up most of this floor. It was full of chairs and sofas, many occupied by people engaged in animated conversation. Everyone wore sober colors, but the style ranged from Puritanical to high fashion. Ariana could still smell something noxious, almost as if a rotting animal lay in some corner, but no one else seemed disturbed.
She looked for somewhere to sit, but an elderly man rose and came over, using a cane, but lightly. He wasgray-haired and somewhat rawboned, but dressed in the latest style.
“Welcome, welcome! I hazard a guess that I have the pleasure of addressing Lady Ariana Boxstall, friend of my dear great-niece.”
Ariana dipped a curtsy. “Then I suspect I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Edgar Peake.”
“You do, you do.” He looked behind her and Ariana made the introductions to Ethel and Kynaston.
“Lord Kynaston, is it?” Mr. Peake said with sharp interest. “What do you think of the place, eh?”
“Novel,” Kynaston said in a drawl that was almost insulting.
Certainly Mr. Peake was something of a rough diamond and showing no discernible deference, but if Kynaston disliked low company, he should have left when invited to do so.
“I’ve already seen so many intriguing items,” Ariana said with a smile. “And I’m curious about the Curious Creatures.”
Mr. Peake gestured around. “An admirable group—a club of sorts, which meets occasionally in Town to investigate oddities. It used to gather in a tavern, but now I have this house, I make it available. One benefit is that more ladies attend. We’ll have a presentation shortly on the possibility of life on the moon.”
“You plan to live on the moon?” Kynaston asked, in the same insulting manner.
Mr. Peake wasn’t at all deterred. “All things are possible in our marvelous modern age, my lord. Perhaps we’ll find a way to use coal gas to fire a rocket there with a man on board.”
“That sounds terribly dangerous,” Ariana said.
“And impossible,” Kynaston murmured.
“Nothing is impossible,” Peake said. “To think so is to be blind to opportunity. Gas will revolutionize the world—you mark my words, my lord—but we haven’t perfected it yet. Hence the faint aroma of experimentation.”
“So there isn’t a corpse lurking here,” Ariana said.
