Bridget suppressed a smile. If Nate thought she was the only one who had to work hard to please their guests, he had another think coming.
“I am sure Lord Eamont would like to accompany his wife and daughters in the rowboat. It would be a lovely family outing. Am I right, sir?”
“Eh?” Lord Eamont, who’d been decidedly quiet, said. “Well, I—what did you say?” He appeared flustered.
“I think they are talking about rowing on the lake,” Madam Bouffant said, smiling at him.
Lord Eamont’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, well, if you like.”
“With your family,” Lady Eamont asserted.
“I’m not one for water and boats,” Lord Eamont said, and Lady Eamont’s eyebrows came together in a frown.
“I agree,” Madam Bouffant concurred. “Sailing makes me feel—how you say—queasy. A walk alongside the lake would be so much nicer.”
“Oh, yes, that does sound nice.” Lord Eamont smiled at the actress.
An agitated Lady Eamont turned the ring on her finger and glowered at Madam Bouffant.
Bridget’s stomach tightened. She sensed trouble brewing.
*
After dinner, Nateand his friends retired to the smoking room,which was purposely situated far from the drawing room where the women congregated. Here, the men could gamble, drink, and smoke cigars to their hearts’ content without disturbing the ladies.
“Oh, come on, Squires, it will be most entertaining. The moon is beautiful outside.” Frederick sat, cigar in hand, on the dark-brown buttoned-leather sofa next to Dodsworth and Jefferson. All three men wore matching burgundy smoking robes.
Nate pushed aside the burgundy curtain, coordinated to match the robes, and peered out the window. The night was indeed clear, and the moon was out, shining over the lake. But after two months in the Lake District, he knew the weather could turn on a moment’s notice. Clear skies could become covered by fog in seconds, and calm could be replaced by sudden storms.
Besides that, he was exhausted after the stressful day of receiving guests. And although it was early by London standards, he desperately wanted sleep.
“Do let’s go for a row on the lake now, old chap,” Frederick said. “Why wait for tomorrow?”
“Have you gone mad?” Nate replied. “You lot are far too drunk for that. One of you will end up falling in and drowning. Don’t be fools.”
“He has a point,” Dodsworth said. “I’m a strong swimmer, but throw me in the lake right now, and I’ll sink like a leaking ship.”
At that, all three of his friends burst out laughing.
“I have a better idea,” Jefferson said.
“Do tell.” Frederick leaned forward and filled his brandy glass.
Jefferson fished in his pocket, extracted a copy of Wordsworth’sGuide to the Lakes, and proceeded to fumble through it.
“Good Lord!” Frederick snickered. “You don’t plan to read poetry under the moonlight, do you?”
“No, it’s much better than poetry.” He took a folded piece of paper from between the pages. “I came across this in a book on wildflowers and fungi before we left London.” Jefferson unfolded the paper. “It’s atype of wild mushroom found in this region that can give you the most delicious hallucinations. I say we go out and hunt for it and then see how it changes the way we view the sunrise.”
“Splendid idea!” Frederick said. “What’s it called?”
“Who knows? Plants don’t grow out of the ground with labels. Here. I drew a picture of it.” Jefferson handed over the drawing.
Frederick reached for the paper, but Nate swiped it away first. “Let me see that.” He inspected the sketch. Jefferson had drawn a small, long-stemmed mushroom with what looked like a domed cap on top. Nate frowned. “Do you realize how much wild fungi grows in these parts? And some of them poison? You can’t risk eating a mushroom based on a crude drawing.”
“Good heavens, Squires, you sound like someone’s mama—or worse—wife! I came out here to cheer you up, but it seems you like being stuck in the doldrums,” Frederick grumbled.
Nate shrugged. The truth was, he liked his life at Villa De Lacey more than he was willing to admit. “I only want you to be safe,” he said. “You’re not used to these parts.”
