When, after an interminable number of seconds and minutes, he walked into the room through the doors he’d disappeared through looking like he’d stumbled out the other side of a hurricane, she understood he’d braved that hurricane for one reason.
Her.
While she didn’t know what to think about that, her body seemed to have an idea about how to feel about it.
She’d always liked champagne, and now she knew exactly how a champagne coupe felt with all those sparkling, little bubbles fizzing inside it.
A new feeling, this one.
His silver eyes found hers, and like that, she was too full of this feeling to draw or release another breath.
“A letter from Mina!” exclaimed Lucy, bolting upright as she cracked the seal.
Tilly only realized Lord Rhys had been moving toward her when he stopped and asked, “Mina?”
“Miss Mina Radclyffe,” Isabel explained.
“She’s my step-sister,” said Lucy, distractedly, for her eyes were already scanning the contents of the letter. “And best bosom friend.”
Lord Rhys returned his attention to Tilly. “And you, Miss Birdwell, do you know Miss Radclyffe?”
Tilly nodded. “I met her two or three times before she sailed off to Japan a few years back.”
“Japan?”
“She has Japanese ancestry,” cut in Isabel.
“A right beauty she is,” said Tilly.
“But that mind of hers might even surpass it,” said Lord Percival, not bothering to look up from the newspaper he’d resumed reading.
Lord Rhys lifted his brow as if to say, Well, and Tilly felt the urge to giggle, which she suppressed with a smile.
“All right.” Lucy lowered the letter to her lap and addressed the room. “She is returning next year.” Her mouth was racing as quickly as her mind with excitement. “Which means I can start readying the house on Queen Street for her arrival.”
Lord Percival lowered his newspaper. “Is that still the plan, then?” One couldn’t take his tone for pleased.
“Of course, it is, Father,” said Lucy, all breezy indifference.
“You’ll have a butler,” he said, firm. “Of my choosing.”
“But we’ll have Mrs. Bloomquist as our housekeeper,” countered Lucy.
No mistaking that stubborn set to Lord Percival’s jaw. “Does she know how to handle weaponry?”
A moment ticked past while Lucy gave the question her full consideration. “Honestly? Likely.”
Tilly agreed.
She’d only met Mrs. Bloomquist on the rare occasion, but the woman was formidable. After all, she’d been the headmistress of The Progressive School for Young Ladies and the Education of Their Minds, which had been founded by Lucy’s mother, Lady St. Alban. Tilly felt certain Mrs. Bloomquist could handle herself in any situation that presented itself.
“All right, Father,” said an exasperated Lucy. “We’ll have a butler, too.”
“And the man will be of my?—”
“Of your choosing.” She exhaled an irritated huff through her nose. “But Mrs. Bloomquist won’t like it.”
“What is the purpose of Queen Street?” asked Lord Rhys, addressing Lucy.
