“You are ready, miss,” the dresser said.
Reese swallowed and stood. She did her best to walk gracefully as she made her way down the stairs. Only for Ellen would she make such an effort. From the drawing room came the sound of voices, with that haughty tone she had become familiar with at the ball. Reese’s courage failed her, and she turned and went out the front door instead.
She walked to the little gazebo at the back of the garden and watched the ducks swimming in the pond. A swan swam on the other side. One of the ducks climbed out of the water and waddled over the grass. Reese’s gaze went back to the swan. That was the two of them—Ellen the swan and her the duck out of water. The image made her chuckle and lightened her mood.
Her thoughts drifted back to the village. Now that the Earl was home, would he interfere with her work there? He might be tight-fisted and refuse to fund the improvements. Ellen had been forceful and the staff had done her bidding. With her big brother here, that could change.
He had shown himself to be a poor steward. Cluelessness was no excuse for the maintenance to have been so badly neglected. She doubted he had any understanding of how poverty tended to feed on itself, of how discouraging and demoralizing it could be. How being surrounded by other people who felt equally defeated made it difficult to work hard enough to get out of a bad situation.
Reese found her anger at the Earl rising again, and she had to take a deep breath. Maybe he shared the attitude of the privileged of this time, that if people couldn’t care for themselves, they should be sent to the poorhouses like in Dickens’ works. She paused. When had he writtenA Christmas Carol? If he was writing in this time, Ellen might have a copy.
“There you are,” her ladyship called from a distance.
Reese got to her feet and turned. Ellen strolled on the arm of a very tall man. He resembled the painting, so it had to be her brother. The Earl wore his hair longer now and had some waves in it. It was still dark, though the hair at his temples had a few streaks of gray.
Her heart pounded as his hooded eyes took her in, from her head to her feet. He put a stupid quizzing glass to one eye, pausing to give attention to her chest. The creep. Reese’s face went hot, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from saying something that might upset Ellen.
Yet Reese would not put up with that from any man. She put on her best glare and folded her arms, taking a stance that mimicked his own. She scanned his tall frame, dressed in his fancy clothes, making sure to give a little sneer followed by a sniff to show she wasn’t pleased by what she saw.
He dropped the quizzing glass, the color around his neck growing dark.
Perfect. She had given as good as she’d gotten. See. Jem wasn’t the only one who could act.
Ellen frowned, sensing the tension between them.
“Gareth Hildebrand, eighth Earl of Kellworth,” she said, “I would like to introduce to you Miss Clarisse Hamilton from America. She is Aunt Nellie’s guest and myspecialfriend.”
The Earl, who had regained his composure after Reese’s dismissal, shot his sister a quick glance at her emphasis. His expression softened. The rancor faded, replaced by a twinkle in his eyes, as if he found his sister’s friend humorous.
“How do you do, Miss Hamilton.” He bowed and held out his hand. When she hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitched.
She thrust out her hand. Rather than giving him a chance to kiss it, she gave his a good, forceful shake and pulled it back. Both his brows rose that time.
“Good day, sir.” When Ellen’s eyes widened, Reese quickly added, “Mylord.” She made sure that use of the title sounded begrudged and not deferential in the least.
“Americans.” He said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth and started walking around the gazebo, almost like a stalking panther, studying her the whole time. Poor Ellen watched them both, dismayed.
Oh yeah? Reese crossed her arms again, pushing out one hip and wearing a bored expression. If he thought to intimidate her, make her think of herself as prey, then he was in for a surprise. She had faced off with enough drug dealers, bureaucrats, and other pompous fools that she was not about to back down.
Someone called from a distance. The Earl stopped in front of Reese, holding her with his gaze as he called out, “Over here, Ned.” Gareth gave her a nod and smiled for the first time. “Truce, Miss Hamilton?” His voice was low and soft.
She glanced at Ellen and gave in. “For your sister, yes.”
“Then, ladies,” the Earl offered each of them an arm, “shall we return to the house? I believe Ellen went to great effort to prepare tea for us, and we are already late. We should join my guests before they have eaten everything.” Ellen took his arm.
Reese clasped her hands behind her back and strolled beside him instead. She was perfectly capable of walking without some man to hang on to. As long as she didn’t trip on her stupid skirts.Please. He arched a brow but didn’t remark on it.
Ellen and her brother chatted as they strolled back to the house. When they entered the room, she smiled and greeted the Earl’s guests amiably. The easy grace with which they interacted showed that the girl knew them, which meant it wasn’t the rowdy crowd from last year. The tension in Reese’s shoulders relaxed a little.
Her ladyship went through the introductions, but Reese knew she’d never remember their names and titles. The three women watched her curiously, wearing haughty attitudes and a sense of superiority befitting Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Reese had been careful not to walk with her usual “manly” stride and knew she at leastlookedthe part of a lady of quality.
The men, Ned and Reggie, also watched her, though they weren’t quite so obvious about it. None of them tried to pull the Earl’s stunt. Ned looked to be about thirty and dressed much fancier than the Earl did. Ned also seemed overly aware of his clothing. In modern times, Reese thought he would be considered a metrosexual male. Maybe the term in this time was a dandy, if they still had them in the Victorian era. Reggie acted like his sidekick.
By the end of tea, Reese had decided she couldn’t stand to be around these people much longer. If the Earl killed the work on the village, she would return to Nellie’s, Jem or not. Had the invitation to him gone out yet, or did the Earl have to give his permission first?
When the meal was finished, Ellen suggested her guests might like to rest. She and Reese hung back as they leisurely left the room.
“I saw you were not comfortable with them,” Ellen said when the door had closed behind them. “I am sorry. It is better than last year. These friends are not wild.”
