She snorted. “As if I give a fig about standings. I’ll have you know, Lord Harlowe. I’d just as soon as disappear from society altogether.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. He kept her hand and tugged her into his side, guiding her to the bright blue, knockerless door. “If you say so.” He pounded on the door, making a mental note to locate the knocker. It opened almost immediately. “Good afternoon, Stephen. I should like to present your new mistress. She will take up residence in the next day or so and we’ve come to tour the premises.” Harlowe’s best guess was that the boy was ten and four. “Is Agnes about?”
“Yesser, yer lordship.”
“Please round up her and Mary then. We’ll wait here.”
He nodded and took off running for the back of the house.
Harlowe studied the elegant foyer, seeing it through Maeve’s eyes. With its high ceilings and cream colored walls, it presented an understated sophistication compared to the ostentatious nature of some of the most upper echelon households of thebeau monde.The flooring, an earth-toned marble, led to an embellished carpeted grandiose stairway, adorned with a balustrade carved of rich mahogany. Above the entryway table was an exquisite Venetian Murano mirror, its edges scalloped in silver and gold leaves. Harlowe had no doubt the gold was genuine.
Footsteps clattered from the back of the house then came to a sudden stop. Agnes had Mary’s arm, and the two stepped forward with Stephen coming up behind.
“Yer lordship.” Agnes dipped a less than perfect curtsy, tugging Mary into doing the same.
Harlowe inclined his head. “Agnes. Mary. May I present Lady Alymer? She is looking to let the place.”
“Milady,” Agnes murmured.
“Milady,” Mary echoed. She was very young. Harlowe could not begin to ascertain the younger girl’s age, though he did recognize her as larger than an infant. And a toddler. Other than that, he had no notion.
Both were dressed in rags that Harlowe would be pressed to replace. As was Stephen, who sidled up behind them.
Maeve smiled at them without censure. “Hello, ladies and sir.”
While Mary’s expression held avid curiosity, Agnes’s and Stephen’s were much more guarded.
“Agnes, you may send Mary and Stephen about their tasks. We thought you could give us the guided tour,” Harlowe said.
Alarm flashed in Agnes’s eyes but was quickly masked. “Of course, yer lordship.” She shooed the other two away and started with the parlor.
They moved quickly through the main floor, the morning room, the dining hall, office behind the stairs, before taking the stairs to the first level.
They started with his and Corinne’s suite of rooms. The only change Harlowe could see was the lack of dust. The wood since his visit had been shined to a polish. The bed linens freshly laundered and made up. The window panes were no longer dulled with grime. The connecting chamber, the one he’d slept in the night before, had also been spruced up and prepared for his return. He was touched, actually. Only, he wouldn’t be returning.Yet, he silently amended.
They moved down the hall to Rowena’s set: the bedchamber, her sitting room. The adjoining bedchamber had been converted into a storage closet of sorts filled with Rowena’s excess of dresses, riding habits, every conceivable hat one could imagine, and their matching fripperies. Everything appeared organized to a minute degree that boggled the mind.
“What’s on the third level?” Maeve asked her.
Agnes stopped and her expression was nothing short of stunned. “The nursery, my lady.”
“Nursery?”
“Er, Lord Harlowe’s wife… she—”
“Oh, yes. Of course, Agnes.” Maeve cut her gaze to him.
Harlowe managed to mask the shock roaring through him. He had forgotten Corinne was pregnant when he’d been called away.Called away?
It all seemed so long ago. Though pieces of his memory were returning, he almost wished he could leave the recollection of Corinne’s pregnancy behind. A thought that left him with more questions.
“This way.” Agnes led them back toward his former chamber and around a more discreet corner to another staircase and up. “The nursery is this direction, milady.”
Harlow resisted a cowardly urge to run. He followed Agnes and Maeve into the chamber. The sight hit him in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer. Dark wood furniture was covered in a passel of soft blue fabrics, clearly never used. His throat closed up as another memory inundated him.
“You aren’t even showing yet, darling.”
Her small, dainty hand splayed her stomach. “I’m being silly, aren’t I? I’m so excited. Just think, a child of our own.” He was thrilled to see the joy in her face compared to the usual melancholy that marred her delicate features.
