Chapter Four
Danny watched thelandscape change from the wild heath and forgotten moor of southern Kent to the fastidiously cared for and maintained trimmings and plantings of birch and oak along Fellow Hall’s drive.
She’d forgotten how long the journey was from estate to estate. Bromley Manor may have abutted the grand neighboring acres for hundreds of miles along the western side, but that short walk from back yard to back yard meant nothing when an introduction required the conveyance of a proper carriage and a roundabout trip through the front gate.
Etiquette never failed to inconvenience everyone. At least her papa had elected to put the top down on the curricle to let in the warm, July air.
Lord Bromley shifted across from her—one hand fiddling with the reins while his other drummed rhythmically on black trousers—clearly as eager to exit the carriage as she.
“We’re nearly there, Papa,” she said. She spied the Grandfellow family cemetery up ahead, the trademark stone angel visible through a picket of dark iron. Heart suddenly heavy, she drew attention away from that side with a cheerful laugh she did not feel. “What a lovely day! Perhaps we shall be asked to have tea on the veranda. I’ve missed Cook’s apple honey scones.”
Lord Bromley rubbed a hand on his belly as if remembering how he and Uncle Jack used to eat the pastries until they’d been ill and had encouraged her to do the same. The grin he shot her way was full of youth-filled mischief. “That woman could make a strip of leather taste like braised beef.”
Danny would give her right arm to keep that spark in his eye. “I bet we could steal her away with the promise of a new kitchen.”
“Daniella.” He frowned, though the spark hadn’t faded. “It is bad form to steal servants away from a lord as he gets his bearings.”
Danny bit back a smile at the half-hearted reprimand. “Shall we wait a month or so andthensteal her away? It would give us time to order the necessary equipment for the range.”
Her papa threw back his head and barked a laugh. “Devious daughter.”
She inclined her head at the compliment and let her smile surface.
She’d missed the easy smiles and easier laughter. Her papa never failed to teach her the complexity and beauty of open communication and unconditional love, two things she demanded for herself and her future, and two things horribly lacking in the nine offers of marriage she’d received thus far.
There’d been some fine proposals. Mr. Pendor had offered no less than six horses—with an accompanying phantom—for her pleasure, and Mr. Richmund had written such a lengthy poem about her beauty, she’d truly felt her worth in such an arrangement. But what men misunderstood, gentlemen especially, was the interactions never failed to sound like the haggled buying and selling of merchandise instead of the foundation of a marriage.
Her thoughts strayed to a different man, one of mystery and danger in a moonlit courtyard, and somehow the most honestperson she’d ever met. The man had made every effort to deceive with words and flattery, but his actions had been true to character, whatever that character was.
She blew a strand of hair from her face, one of several that had escaped her coif with the unpredictable wind and berated her lack of restraint. How irritating! She should not be thinking about some criminal she’d threatened in the dark. Her intuition had never failed her. She believed in it wholeheartedly, which made her feelings about Mr. Seymour—undoubtedly a false name—even more vexing. He’d as much as admitted he’d been at the Leishires’ home for mischief, but she’d have sworn the man’s intentions had been noble.
And that kiss. What humiliation that she thought of it years later and her skin still went warm beneath her dress.
“You’re frowning, my dear.”
Danny forced the downturned corners of her mouth to lift. “’Tis nothing, Papa. I but fear what Mama will say when she learns I accompanied you today on your visit.”
He flinched. “Let’s hope the new Duke of Grandfellow is young and handsome.”
Because youth and title forgave all. As if her mama would not hope for a match for her eldest daughter if the man were old and as homely as a bilberry bush. Danny was torn between hoping for the latter and dreading the former. Younger men were harder to dissuade.
As the carriage rumbled around the bend and out of sight of the cemetery, Danny breathed a sigh of relief. If nothing else of this visit went to plan, she’d be a successful distraction. Now if only the young and handsome, or old and weed-like, duke would be so accommodating. Danny patted her reticule in her lap, the healthy weight of her newest read—a collection of journals by adventurers explaining the proper footing and mechanics ofglissading—and her trusty hand pistol a comfort like nothing else.
Over the vine-covered bridge, through the copse of thick oaks, and out the other side, and Fellow Hall rose up in all its majesty of towering pillars and formidable stairs, the afternoon sun casting giant shadows across the front drive, the same front drive she’d played in as a girl, stacking rocks and earning disapproving glares from Mrs. Smith.
The carriage stopped at the base of the stairs and her papa handed his card to Lancaster as the butler appeared as if from the limestone itself.
Lancaster bowed. “Greetings, Your Grace, Lady Daniella.”
Papa would have none of that. Descending from the vehicle, he clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, “Good to see you, Lancaster. Is the new duke at home?”
“I shall check, Your Grace.”
The man made his ascent up the stairs, presumably to do just that, and Danny swore she heard Lancaster sigh. A non-tiresome new duke appeared out of the question. Which left one of two options: The man was old and demanding, or young and arrogant. Both were creatures she’d taken to avoiding for their wayward glances and wandering hands.
Danny glanced longingly at the hedge maze, wishing she’d chosen one of her subdued and modest frocks instead of the vibrant yellow silk that left her neck and arms bare.
Her papa missed nothing as he helped her down. “It may be some time before Lancaster sends word back. Perhaps a stroll in the gardens is in order?”
