Lady Delilah stood—oh, but she was tall and willowy—and indicated the chair to her left. “Miss Hart, perhaps you can talk some sense into my brother.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” said Valentina without thinking.
Lady Delilah laughed. “I already like her, Archie,” she said to her brother before returning the full intensity of her gaze to Valentina. “It’s simply that I’ve been presented with the opportunity to acquire a pet.”
“A pet?”
She nodded, her curls bouncing. “A pet baby goat, to be precise.”
“Delilah, not this again,” said Lord Archer with a roll of his eyes.
“Perhaps our guest can offer a new perspective.” Lady Delilah’s gaze settled on Valentina. “What do you think of a goat as a pet?”
“I think it’s a terrible idea,” said Valentina. She had nothing to lose by being honest.
Lord Kilmuir began coughing up the swallow of tea he’d just taken, and Miss Windermere smiled as if holding back a giggle.
Lady Delilah looked no small bit exasperated. “And why is that?”
Valentina pointed toward the garden outside the window. “Do you like that garden?” All manner of roses, peonies, hollyhocks, and daisies blossomed in the garden, colors bursting in brilliantwhite, red, pink, yellow, purple, and blue.
“I do,” said Lady Delilah.
“Baby goats grow into adult goats, and an adult goat will eat it clean in a week.”
A Windermere family quality was becoming clear to Valentina. They were big on ideas, but not so much when it came to pragmatics.
Lady Delilah’s eyebrows creased and released. “Ah.” She glanced at her brother. “No need to gloat, Archie.”
He spread his hands wide. “I didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“Well, I must say,” said Miss Windermere, “those are quite the most sensible words spoken in this house since Aunt and Uncle left for Denmark.”
“Denmark?” asked Valentina, unable to help herself.
Lady Delilah gave a little shrug. “Oh, our parents are absolutely mad about digging up old bones and ruins in foreign lands. Vikings are the latest obsession.”
Somehow, Valentina felt herself becoming drawn into the Windermere world. They possessed an irresistibility.
Yet she must resist.
She must speak her thank-yous and farewells and consign this strange interlude to a passing folly.
Then food and drink were served, and she found herself eating and drinking, and not leaving.
Lord Archer caught her eye. “I have a plan.”
She froze mid-chew. “What plan?” she asked around the scone in her mouth.
No one seemed at all surprised by this non sequitur. Which could only mean one thing: everyone had been apprised of her and her family’s plight.
Oh, bother.
The bite of scone turned to sawdust in her mouth, and sheswallowed with some difficulty. “That is completely unnecessary, Lord Archer. I have a plan, and it was going very well until?—”
“Until?”
