I opened my mouth to reply, but a loud, exuberant, sing-song voice interrupted me.
“Oh, I pine for my lady! My lady pines for me! We pine for each other under the pine trees!”
The squire stared bewildered at the top of the stairs. My jaw hit the floor before I shut my eyes and slapped my forehead. His Royal Highness was singing in the tub room.
Mrs. Arvina scurried out from the west wing with a laugh on her lips and two large jugs in either hand. “Your husband has a fine voice, Mrs. Holt!” she called out as she swished past us and up the stairs.
I snorted. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”
The cook paused at the top of the stairs to partially turn back to us. “The food’ll be ready in twenty minutes, sir.”
“Excellent!” Torquatus praised as he returned his attention to me. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically. “Now then, that gives us enough time for me to show you my collection.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Your collection of what?”
“Of maps, of course!” he practically squealed as he looped both arms around one of mine and half-dragged me toward the east wing doorframe. “You’ve hardly seen any of my collection!”
My face drooped. “You mean more of your property maps?”
“Of course! What else is as magnificent as seeing one’s property writ large for all to see!”
I discovered a new circle of hell that night. The one with dozens of maps of the exact same property, etched and drawn in different hands, but all having the same shape. It was like looking at a hall of marble statues. It’s interesting enough at the beginning, but after the twentieth naked guy, all the faces and other parts start to blur.
The pictures hung on every inch of wall in the entirety of the east wing. The study and parlor had both been turned into a shrine of property, and not even the blankets on the furniture were spared the vanity of the wealth. The seamstresses had been commanded to sew more pictures of the property on the cloth.
I was thoroughly sick of maps by the time I heard footsteps on the stairs. I’d tuned out Torquatus’ talk ten minutes before and focused all my attention on listening for those padding feet.
I perked up at the call of freedom. “I think I hear my husband!” I practically shrieked.
Torquatus lifted an eyebrow. “Do you? Perhaps he would-”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish his suggestion, but freed myself from his loose grasp and hurried through that heavenly doorframe and back out into the foyer. Cassian paused at the bottom step, a Cheshire grin on his lips.
“You have good ears for your husband,” he teased.
I heard Torquatus behind me and darted over to Cassian, where I latched onto him in a desperate hug. “Of course, darling. I’ve been waiting for you.” To save me from this narcissistic madman.
Cassian chuckled. “I’m glad to see you’re so eager to greet me.”
Torquatus came up to us with his hands clasped together like a peddler looking for a sale. “Perhaps you would like to see the rest of my collection of-”
Mrs. Arvina’s loud voice bellowed through the house. “Supper’s ready!”
I was saved.
Cassian looped one of my arms through his and positioned me at his side. “Shall we?”
I clutched onto him. “Gladly.”
Chapter 21
The dining room was a spacious affair with windows that looked out on the yard. Six high-back chairs sat around the claw-foot table, and a door at the back of the room led to the kitchen. The lovely aromas alone would have guided me to that heavenly place, but as luck would have it, it came to us.
Torquatus took the head with Cassian on his right and I on his left. The door swung open the moment we took our seats. It was Vesta with a tray of glasses and a decanter filled with sweet-smelling wine. She poured us each a glass and made to set the remainder of the drink on the table.
“No need for that, Vesta,” Torquatus told her as he waved his hand in her direction. “I’m sure our guests don’t wish to become drunk.”
“I have a very strong constitution,” Cassian assured him as he grasped the long, thin neck of the decanter and smiled at Vesta. “I will take responsibility for the consequences.”
