Mrs. Pollitt’s brow puckered. “According to Miss Harrismith, Lady Barbara begged Lord William to remain in the nursery with her.” She shrugged. “I did suggest the governess not bow to your daughter’s wishes, for Lady Barbara will become most dreadfully spoiled, but as you see, she has not chosen to remove Lord William from the nursery.”
“I see.” Andrew found himself much in agreement with Miss Harrismith on this issue, for it would happen naturally, when William wished it to, but he declined to say so. “Is Miss Harrismith’s accommodation adequate? I should like to see her made comfortable.”
Shocked, Mrs. Pollitt stared at him silently, as if he had suggested moving the young lady into his apartments.
“She has the attic room generally assigned to governesses, Your Grace. It is somewhat larger than those assigned to the maids.”
The housekeeper’s voice carried a hint of displeasure. Governesses were positioned somewhere between the servants and the family, which could prove difficult for them. “Perhaps a bedchamber on the same floor as the children’s?”
“There is only Nanny Evan’s bedchamber in the tower wing, Your Grace. Adjoining the nursery.”
“Oh yes, Nanny.” He rubbed his chin. “Thank you, Mrs. Pollitt. You may go.”
The housekeeper curtsied and left the room, no doubt wondering what bee had got under his hat. He wondered at it himself.
With a regretful glance at the pile of correspondence which would require several hours spent with his secretary, Andrew made his way to his apartments to change, before he met Greta and her brother in the yellow salon. Although there was a mountain of things demanding his attention, he intended to be a good host and see to his guests’ enjoyment.
Some hours later, as Andrew conversed with Greta and Ivo in the salon, the butler announced his cousin Raymond.
Raymond walked in with his cheerful grin. He shook Andrew’s hand. “I heard you’d come home and as I was passing through Oxford, thought I’d call and see how you go on,” he said in his easy manner.
“I’m glad you did, Ray.” Andrew turned to his guests. “Allow me to introduce you. Greta, Baroness Elsenberg and Ivo, Herr Von Bremen, my cousin, the Honorable Raymond Forsythe.”
“I see a family likeness, Mr. Forsythe,” Greta said with her charming smile. “But I’ve never understood the English way of shortening names. Why do you call him Ray, Your Grace?”
“Because as a youth he was a ray of sunshine,” Andrew said tongue-in-cheek. “Charmed all the ladies.”
“Ah!” Raymond’s blue eyes danced. “What rubbish! Don’t believe him, Baroness. It’s pure indolence on Andrew’s part.”
Andrew grinned. “We spent a lot of time together growing up. Sit, please, Ray. May I offer you a glass of claret?”
Raymond seated himself in an armchair and crossed his long legs. “I would welcome a glass. Drove down from Caufield Park. That’s in Yorkshire,” he explained to Andrew’s guests.
“How is your mother?”
“In excellent health. I was obeying the order to visit.” He gave a rueful smile. “It’s been a while, and she accuses me of neglect.”
“Aunt Augusta is quite a formidable lady. She would shake Wellington to his boots,” Andrew said. “She scared me as a youth after I broke a window pane with a cricket ball.”
Raymond turned to Andrew’s guests. “Are you enjoying your stay in England? I shall direct the question to you, Baroness. Ladies are more observant, I find.”
Greta’s gaze rested on Andrew. “I like it more and more.”
“Not quite as civilized as Vienna,” Ivo said. “But it holds promise.” His laugh took the sting from his words.
“I haven’t had the fortune to travel to Vienna, but I hear it is a beautiful city,” Raymond said.
“Indeed it is.” Ivo nodded. “The Austrian women are charming.”
“I am sure that is so.” Raymond smiled at Greta. “And very lovely.”
“Greta and I are German,” Ivo stated with a slight frown.
Raymond’s gaze remained on Greta’s face. “Then the German ladies are enchanting.”
“You are still the same incorrigible flirt.” Andrew laughed and shook his head.
The butler came in and poured more wine into their glasses and set a plate of sweet biscuits on the table. He bowed and retreated.
“Will you stay on for the shoot next week?” Andrew asked. “We should be delighted should you decide to. You will know many of the guests.”
His cousin cast him a grateful glance as he picked up his glass. “Thank you. I should be delighted.”
Andrew wondered if there was another reason for Raymond’s visit. He supposed he’d learn of it soon enough.
That evening, Andrew joined his guests again at dinner. Across the table, Raymond looked what he was, a well-built gentleman in well-cut dinner clothes. His black hair was curled into a Brutus, his cravat exquisitely tied in the complex Neapolitan. But Andrew’s earlier observation of his cousin seemed correct. Raymond’s face was finely drawn, and he looked older than when he’d seen him last. Still in his twenties, he should rightly still have the fresh-faced youthfulness of a young man in his prime. Perhaps his mother had been right. Aunt Augusta feared the life Raymond led in London was self-indulgent, and perhaps even bordered on dissipation. His father had been a gambler, and early on in his life, Raymond showed signs of following in his footsteps. He gambled away money he could ill afford on curricle races, cock fights, boxing matches, and horseracing, and he was a friend of the reckless Baron Alvanley who was busily going through his fortune.
Andrew toyed with the idea of asking Raymond if he needed funds, but thought better of it. A man had pride. If Raymond was in bad straits, he would come to him, as he had before. Andrew supported Raymond’s widowed mother, as he did all his relatives; it was his duty as head of the family. But he disliked throwing good money after bad.
Raymond was laughing at an amusing aside from Greta. The expression in his eyes caught Andrew’s attention. He was looking at the baroness as if filled with a kind of painful longing. For some reason, Andrew found it disturbing. He turned to discover Ivo frowning at them both.
