“They have now taken over the Gold Suite, which they can clutter up with all the Egyptian atrocities they want, and I am here to buy paper, paint and a brand new bed for the master suite. Would you prefer your bedroom to be the same green as your last one? For my room I was thinking peach and green so that it would be harmonious.”
She held her breath for his answer, although it was the last thing she would allow him to see. Or anyone else, since she could sense the attention they were paying, no matter the conversation. So, she returned to her cup of tea and pretended to sip.
There were tea cakes on the tray, but right now she didn’t think she could manage a bite. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had very much at all to eat since she’d had Joyful’s mulligatawny soup. Too bad she didn’t need to lose some weight.
Beau just stood there looking flummoxed. He didn’t even comment when a footman appeared with a tea tray followed by Wilkins, his tray bearing a decanter and glasses that he poured for Beau and Kit.
“Thank you, Wilkins,” Pip offered with a smile.
Wilkins bowed, his eyes smiling back, and turned for the door. Pip was hoping for some general conversation, but Mae and Chuffy had tucked themselves away in a corner, and her parents were holding hands and smiling at each other, a sure sign that no intruders were invited into their silent communication.
“I would like to speak to you privately,” Beau informed her.
She didn’t get up. “As soon as we find out what this is all about.”
His scowl grew thunderous. “What this is all about has nothing to do with you. It’s too late to return to Delamere today, but you can go to Drummond House. Pull off dust covers to your heart’s content.”
She smiled up at him as if he had offered her more tea. “No, thank you. I have not seen my parents in months, and Mairead even longer. And I am hoping for a chance to see Fiona, her sister. Oh, and Mama, did Cissy come with you?”
Her mother had the oddest half-smile on her face, as if this was all amusing her. “No. I suspected this would not be a discussion for a fourteen-year-old. We dropped her off at Cousin Ruth’s house today. Are you certain you don’t wish some privacy with your brand-new husband?”
How did she say,dear heavens nowithout sounding churlish.
“Well, wife?”
Pip turned her attention to her half-empty teacup. He was spoiling for a fight, wasn’t he? She wanted to once again remind him that she had not promised to obey him, but it wasn’t something one did before witnesses.
“I would much rather wait until we are home before we rip at each other, if you don’t mind.”
His answer was to down the brandy as if it were water on the desert and then pick up the decanter Wilkins left to pour some more.
“Oh, good,” Pip heard and turned. “Everyone is here. Even a few extras.”
Of course, it was Lord Drake. Or, Pip thought, it should be,finallyit was Lord Drake.
Everyone offered their greetings as he detoured to the brandy decanter and filled his own glass.
“My apologies for not being here earlier,” he drawled, “but something has come up. Something rather important.”
“Everyone here is allowed to be informed?” Pip’s father asked in his quiet, calm way that usually deescalated any situation. Too bad that didn’t seem to work with Beau. He didn’t even sit down.
Drake looked around and smiled. “You are already involved. Except for Lady Knight. And of course, I trust her discretion. But if you don’t mind, I need to speak with Drummond and his new wife alone first. So, if you’ll excuse us.”
“My wife?” Beau retorted. “Why would you ever need her?”
Standing and shaking out her skirts, Pip sighed. “Why, thank you, Beau. You do know how to make a girl feel special.”
Beau scowled. “You know I didn’t mean…”
Pip would have felt worse if, on the way past, she didn’t intercept a wink from her mother, as if to say that it could be a trial putting up with these bumbling dolts. Yes, she thought, it certainly could.
And then, drink in hand, Drake gave Beau the kind of look bred into centuries of noblemen that let his friend know there would be no dissension, and led them both across the hall into another parlor.
“Ah, we’re to be intimidated by all this splendor,” Pip offered with a look around to the eighteenth-century art from the likes of Boucher and Watteau that circled the royal blue and gold room. And yes, there it was, the ceiling mural full of cavortingputti.
Ah,she thought with an unconscious nod.So, this is where they keep the excess.Boucher and Watteau art was awash in sensibility and emotion. Unlike their host.
“They had to put it somewhere,” Drake said as if he had heard her. “All those grand tours couldn’t go to waste, and the Pater wouldn’t stand for it at the Abbey.”
