“This one pushes people down the stairs.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mayhew’s eyes getting even bigger. Good.
“Well, when you’re finished putting the castle to rights, then,” Glenn suggested.
Grey shook his head. “ThenI have to begin working on the livestock. And crops. And drainage. Which I know damned all about.”
Rob gave him another delighted grin. “Too bad nobody’s laying siege to the place. You’re an absolute whiz at sieges.”
Grey sadly shook his head. “If you know anyone who knows the difference between borage and beehives, please. Invite them along. There will be whiskey.”
Glenn obviously knew Mayhew was standing by as well. “Oh, I suspect I’ll be too busy. Besides, I can get whiskey at White’s. Much more civilized, my lad. Happy to keep your wife company here, of course, since you’ll obviously be up to your boot tops in muck.”
Grey was already shaking his head, uncomfortably aware that he, too, was beginning to have fun. “My wife? No, lad, she’ll be right at my side. As bad as the fields are, the house is even worse. Once we get the roof fixed, she’ll have to start from ground up. Oh, and did I tell you the village was too superstitious to allow their daughters into the house to fight ghosts for the brooms?” Grey gave a huge sigh. “I thoughtsoldiering was hard. I suspect I’m going to be the first marquess who wants to give the bloody title back.”
“Wait,” Glenn said, brightening as he laid a hand on Grey’s arm. “I know somebody who can help. Charlie! Come meet my friend.”
Grey turned to see the entire Packham contingent headed their way. Amazing to think they were all so closely related. Miss Edwina should have been lovely with her pale, almost silver-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and tall, sleek form. Her dress was of a standard design with squared neckline and little puffed sleeves, a cream muslin with rose ribbons at her bust and hem, topped off with the obligatory string of pearls. But the entire picture ended up being rather vague, as if one needed to squint to better focus on her.
Miss Charlotte stood at least a hand shorter, her hair a distinct, gleaming red, her smile impish, her green eyes comfortably crinkled at the corners. She was a bit plumper than fashion, with dimples at her elbows and a lush bosom that was barely contained by her gold-colored gown, but somehow it all conspired to make a man want to smile when he met her.
And bringing up the rear was Lady Georgianna, whose easy smile was once again doing strange and terrible things to Grey’s breathing. He couldn’t have said why. She was no more beautiful than when she’d invaded his house. Her chin was still too strong, her forehead too broad. But that smile...not comfortable like her cousin’s. Not vague at all.
Maybe it was the fact that it resided mostly in those sharp green eyes. He could look on them forever, he thought, even as his less honorable self wondered what she would look like disheveled and sated. In his bed, preferably.
Even perfectly coiffed and clothed, she inspired fantasies. She filled out her pale primrose silk dress quite comfortably, enhanced by a pearl collar that accentuated her sleek neckand little jeweled flowers tucked into her thick dark curls. Nothing dozens of other young women hadn’t accomplished in presenting themselves at a ball. But she was...more. She didn’t simply strike someone as memorable. She made a man want to stand up straighter, smooth out his attire, brush his hair back. Hell, if he’d had facial hair, he’d be pulling at it, just to earn her attention.
“Rob,” Charlie greeted Grey’s friend with what seemed to be sincere delight, striding over as if she were hiking the hills. “When did you get back?”
“About the same time my friend Coleford did,” he said, bending over her hand.
“Greyville,” Grey growled, tired of reminding people.
“You’re going to have to get used to it eventually,” the redheaded Miss Packham said with that impish grin of hers.
“I still have time.”
Rob beamed as if he’d performed a magic trick. “You two are already introduced?”
“Yes,” Grey said. “These ladies helped me save my cousin from sure disaster at the Serpentine the other day. Lady Clevedon was kind enough to make the introductions.”
If he repeated that lie many more times, he’d start believing it enough to describe the squelch in his boots from wading into the water to rescue a ball.
“Miss Packham,” he murmured bending over one hand, then the next. “Miss...er, Packham. And Miss…Packham,” possibly lingering just a bit longer over Lady Georgianna’s.
All three of them grinned at him. “It will save time and confusion if you simply use our first names,” Miss Charlotte Packham said. “Everyone does. If you feel particularly starchy, you may add Lady or Miss.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I believe I will.”
“How are the girls?” Lady Georgianna asked, and damned if Grey didn’t think she meant it. Maybe he would be comfortable calling her Georgie after all.
“When they knew I might see you they asked me to give you their best wishes.”
Her smile grew. “I can just picture Sophie doing that very thing.”
He couldn’t help grinning back. “While Amelia tugged on my jacket and Bark sprawled across my boots.”
She nodded as if satisfied. “Well, please tell them that we shall be issuing formal invitations to tea this week. My mother is longing to meet them.”
