Grey sighed. “My parents were more enamored with alliteration.”
They had breached the crowd, aimlessly wandering along the sidelines as a quadrille formed up in the center of the room. The room’s decorations were a nightmare that reminded him that his own house could have been worse. Swaths of garish pink, purple, and green silk had been draped from the chandeliers, and tall grasses were stuffed in the over-sized vases that sat in between too few windows.
He was just about to go looking for anything resembling a Packham when Glenn stopped on his heel and turned to him.
“What do you mean you can’t make it to Price’s place?” Glenn protested just loudly enough to be heard over the musicians on the balcony.
Grey was so busy scanning the crowd for a familiar face that he almost missed his cue. Glenn wasn’t shy about kicking him to remind him.
“Price’s?” he blurted out with a shake of his head and a throbbing ankle. “Wish I could. Re-fight old battles, share a few bottles, murder some birds. Sounds like heaven. Can’t.”
“Why not?”
Grey let go a despondent sigh. “I have to go to Wales.”
He hoped he sounded disgusted and despairing enough.
“Wales?” Glenn echoed, his expression almost comically horrified. “Good God, man. What did you do to deserve that?”
“I didn’t deserve it at all. But that seems to be where the primary estate is. Evidently, I cannot begin to salvage the whole mess from the ravages of my cousins unless I am there. Supervising. TheWelsh.” With a silent apology to the Welsh and to the actual primary seat of the marquessate on the English side of the border, he scrunched his face up in disgust. “Doyouknow anything about the Welsh? M’ solicitor couldn’t even tell me for certain that they spoke English.”
Rob shook his head, obviously having far too much fun. “Surely there’s a Welshman somewhere who must speak English.”
“The question is, do they at Llanthony Hall. It seems my cousins have let the place go rather feral.”
Glenn waved a hand. “Well then, let it stay that way. What’s it to you?”
Grey picked a glass of something off a footman’s tray. A footman dressed as a jester, even to the bells dangling from his cap. If the lad hadn’t looked so bloody uncomfortable, Grey would have burst out laughing all over again.
The urge died a painful death when he took a sip of whatever was in that glass. He damn near spit it in Rob’s face.
“ThatI should have warned you about,” Glenn said with a sly grin.
Grey was looking at his glass as if it had grown maggots. “Whatisthat?”
Glenn chuckled. “No one is quite sure. It’s Lady H’s special punch.”
“Well, I’d have to say that seven-eighths of it is gin.”
“Probably. As for the estate, check it out and then meet us at Price’s in Cambridge.”
Grey scowled. “Are you mad? It takes at least five days to get to the Hall from London. Probably more to get back to Cambridge. Over Welsh roads. In spring, when I understand it rains. Constantly. Once I get there, I’m not coming back until the entire place is put to rights.”
Which was when he recognized the tall, rather stooped man nearby making a show of speaking to another gentleman half his size, although his eyes weren’t focused on his companion. They were flicking in Grey’s direction. Mr. Mayhew himself, eavesdropping and looking a bit appalled.
Well. It seemed the Termagant knew what she was about after all.
Grey set his glass on another passing tray and returned his attention to his friend. “It’s pointless to plan anything this year,” he complained. “At least.”
“A big project?”
“Evidently the original title-owners were marcher lords. With castles. The kind with arrow slits and moats and curtain walls that all have a habit of sliding into said moats.”
Glenn was grinning like an idiot. “Sounds full of...er, atmosphere.”
“Full of bats and mold, more likely. Oh, and reportedly one of the early marcher lords who still hangs about the place terrifying the servants. Can’t keep even the cook overnight. I plan on filling one of the wagons in our little cavalcade with barrels of whiskey. I suspect I’ll need it.”
“A ghost to boot?” Glenn demanded with a delighted gleam in his eye. “Maybe we’ll all come there. I haven’t had spectral chains rattled at me in ages.”
