Today as they neared Willoughby, Houghton sat quietly in the carriage, regarding the scenery through the window beside him, and held his peace.
His grace was grateful. That ache of love and nostalgia was in him again. They were driving beside the old park wall. Soonnow they would be on the lime avenue and he would be home indeed. He wondered if all men felt about their homes as he did about his. It was like a part of his identity, a part of himself.
He thought in particular of that time six years before when he had returned after so long and so painful an absence. The porter’s wife had had her apron to her eyes, crying at the sight of him—her wrinkled face was wreathed in smiles now as she bobbed him a curtsy. He raised one hand in greeting and smiled at her. All the servants had been out on the upper terrace to greet him—they had even cheered him—and he would swear that their happiness had not been feigned.
And Thomas. The memory lost some of its luster. He had not thought—foolishly he had not thought of what the year of his reported death had meant to Thomas. He had been the Duke of Ridgeway and was now merely Lord Thomas Kent again.
The duke had always thought Thomas was fond of him, although they had had their differences and although they were only half-brothers—Thomas was the son of his father’s second wife. Perhaps he had been. Perhaps the blow of finding himself suddenly deprived of a title and property he had thought his had been just too much.
And Sybil later that same day. Sybil, about whom he had dreamed for weeks before that, ever since his memory had returned. Back in his arms again—for a brief moment. More beautiful than ever.
He would not think of it. He was coming home again now and there was excitement in him despite the fact that Sybil was there.
Mrs. Laycock and Jarvis, the butler, were standing at the top of the horseshoe steps before the massive double doors leading into the hall. Dearly familiar. Mrs. Laycock had been housekeeper at Willoughby for as long as his grace could recall, and Jarvis had been at the house all his life, rising through the ranks of the footmen to his current position, which he had assumed four years before.
Mrs. Laycock curtsied and Jarvis inclined his body into the bow that had stiffened noticeably the very day of his promotion. The duke smiled and greeted them.
Sybil had not come outside or even into the hall to meet him. She was in her sitting room, Mrs. Laycock informed him.
Almost an hour passed before he attended her there. Sybil would not appreciate being greeted by an eager husband dressed in the creased garments he had traveled in. He bathed and changed first.
His wife was reclining on the daybed in her sitting room. She did not rise at his entry.
“Adam,” she said breathlessly, smiling at him. The same beautiful, fragile, wide-eyed Sybil he had fallen in love with once upon a time. “Did you have a comfortable journey?”
He bent over her to kiss her and she turned her cheek to his lips. “How are you, Sybil?” he asked. There was a high flush on her cheeks.
“Well,” she said. “Bored. Sir Cecil Hayward held a dinner last evening and entertained the company with stories of his new hunter and praises of his hounds. I left early. I could not stop yawning.”
“He is, I’m afraid, just a typical country gentleman,” he said with a smile. “Have you recovered from your chill?”
She shrugged. “You are not going to fuss, are you?” she said. “Nanny does enough of that.”
“I must remember to thank Nanny, then,” he said. “How is Pamela?”
“Well,” she said, “despite circumstances, the poor darling. You really must get rid of that governess, Adam. What whim was it that made you send her here?”
“Is she not doing a good job?” he asked.
“Pamela is too young to be spending hours in a schoolroom,” she said. “And she dislikes her governess. I would like to know what she was to you, Adam.”
“Houghton hired her,” he said. “Whom have you invited here apart from Chesterton?”
“Just a few people,” she said. “It was so dull here with you gone.”
“You know that you could have come with me,” he said. “I asked you. I would have taken you and Pamela both. We could have shown her London.”
“But you know you would have been playing jealous husband as soon as I smiled at another gentleman,” she said. “You always do, Adam. You hate to see me enjoy myself. Have you come home to spoil things for me again? Will you be scowling at all my guests?”
“Will I need to?” he asked.
“You are horrid to me,” she said, her large blue eyes filling with tears. “Did you know about the ball?”
“Ball?” he said.
“I have arranged it for the night after everyone arrives,” she said. “And I have invited everyone, Adam. You need not fear that anyone will feel slighted.”
“You planned a ball without me here?” he asked. “Would that not have struck our neighbors as strange, Sybil?”
