“Main family rooms are on this floor. None of the ground floor rooms are used informally, except my father’s library.”
Leading the way down the gallery, he stopped at a door halfway along. “My mother calls this the morning room, but to say truth it’s where the family sits when there ain’t any likelihood of visitors. Most comfortable room in the house, if you ask me.”
“Except the old nursery, Alex,” said Georgy, a little behind them. “That’s where I go when I want to be private.”
Alex opened the morning room door and walked in, sighing with relief when he found his father had not yet arrived. He grinned down at Apple. “It’s all right. Coast’s clear.”
Georgy giggled and pushed Apple through the door. “Go in, quick. Then you can sit down and Papa won’t be able to see your knees shaking.”
“They’re not shaking,” Apple protested, and Alex was a little amused to see how she glanced about in an awestruck way.
“Don’t be put off by the grand style, Apple. You’ll soon become accustomed.”
She shivered and drew closer to the fireplace. “I never should, I don’t think. It’s — it’s so big.”
“Suppose it must seem so to you.”
Georgy laughed. “It seems so to me too, let me tell you, Apple. I’ve grown used to my little house instead.”
“Yes, but it’s your home, or it was, so it must be natural to you to live in a mansion. I’m sure I shan’t be able to find my way about.”
There was time for no more as the door opened again to admit Lord Luthrie. He cast a swift glance about the room, his gaze resting for a moment on Apple and then passing on to Georgy. His eyes lit up. “Hello, my darling girl!”
“Papa!” squeaked Georgy and ran across the room to fling herself into her father’s arms.
Lord Luthrie received her in a comprehensive embrace, though he entered a protest. “Have a care, my dear, or you’ll have me over. Not as young as I was.”
Alex could not help smiling at Apple’s wide-eyed astonishment. A sliver of compassion slid through him. Had she not known a like affection from John Greenaway? Perhaps not, if the fellow wasn’t her real father.
Lord Luthrie was gently extricating himself from his daughter’s clinging form.
“Papa, I’ve missed you!”
“Dear me, that bad, is it? Now I had supposed young Robert would keep you sufficiently entertained to forget your old father.”
Georgy bubbled over. “How could I? And of course I adore Rob and he’s delightfully entertaining, but I still miss you, Papa.”
Her father’s indulgent smile embraced her. “Highly gratifying, my sweet. I must say the house is a great deal quieter without you.” He laughed at her indignant look and patted her cheek. “Too quiet, I promise you.” He put her from him and moved towards Apple, glancing across at Alex. “And this must be your friend, Miss…”
“Greenaway,” Alex supplied. “Miss Appoline Greenaway.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled down at Apple as he reached her and put out a hand. “A very pretty name, Appoline. Why not use it?”
Apple put her hand into his, looking bemused. “Well, sir, it — it was my father who called me Apple, and it — it stuck, you see.”
Alex noted the twinkle enter his father’s eye and saw with relief that Apple was visibly relaxing.
“Should you object to it if I were to call you Appoline?”
“No, of course not. I mean — I mean, it is very kind in you to call me anything at all.”
One of Lord Luthrie’s soft laughs sounded. “Would you expect me to whistle perhaps? I would never be so rude.”
A giggle escaped Apple. “What I mean is, sir, it’s — it’s very good of you to have me to stay.”
He gave a small bow. “Not at all. Any friend of my daughter’s must always be welcome in my home.”
“Th-thank you, my lord.”
