His old friend almost smiled. “You’re just not used to being an earl yet, my lord. But I’m sure and certain that you’ll learn your place, just like I’ve learned mine.”
Thomas nodded. “Will you prepare my tan suit, Thayne? I have some calls to make this afternoon.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thayne said, and took the trunk to the bedroom and began unpacking it.
Thomas washed his face and hands in a sink with running water. What luxury! After, he took out the letters of introduction from his cousin’s wife, Lois. There were four of them: Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Vanderbilt, Mrs. Fish, and Mrs. Jones. He rested while Thayne meticulously pressed his clothes and prepared his shoes. He needed to look his best if he was going to make the right impression; everything was riding on his ability to find a rich wife.
He visited Mrs. Astor first, for her house (mansion, really) was across the street from the hotel. He gave a servant the letter, and it was a few minutes before he was ushered into a room where a middle-aged woman sat. He bowed to her and made polite conversation. She asked searching questions about his title, his estate, and his ancestry. Thomas glided over the details of his father’s death as he fidgeted with his hands. He didn’t need all of New York society to know that his father had committed suicide.
Mrs. Vanderbilt’s mansion was even more opulent than Mrs. Astor’s, as were her cold manners. Mrs. Fish was the kindest of the three and asked him to attend a party she was hosting the very next day.
The last house, Mrs. Jones’s, looked out of place in New York City. It was just as large as the other mansions on Fifth Avenue, but the architecture resembled a French château on a taller and narrower scale. There were towers and gables, with Victorian gingerbread trim on the roofs and balconies. It reminded him of a castle in a fairytale.
The butler took Thomas into a sitting room that was positively crowded with overstuffed pieces of furniture. He took a seat on a chair that was trimmed in gold. He didn’t have to wait long before Mrs. Jones came into the room. Even though she had to be close to twice his age, she was beautiful. It was impossible not to stare at her flawless face and the ruby choker at her throat. Matching ruby earrings hung from her ears, dripped from her wrists, and dotted her fingers. Thomas remembered to stand up. He did so awkwardly and bowed to this woman who wore more jewels than a queen.
“Lord Farnham, I am so glad you called.”
“Mrs. Jones, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Please sit down, my lord.”
Thomas sat on the edge of his chair. With the other New York matrons, he’d felt at ease. Much like he was talking to his mother, but this shapely woman did not remind him of his mother at all. He glanced nervously out the window.
“What drew you to New York, my lord?”
Thomas glanced at his hands before he looked up at her face. “I’m only here for a visit.”
Mrs. Jones gave him a warm smile. “How long do you mean to stay?”
“That is…I…I’m not sure how long I will stay…I’m hoping to…um…make new acquaintances. Lois—Lady Rutledge is my cousin’s wife, and she suggested that I make the trip.”
“Your cousin is Lord Rutledge?”
“It is an honorary title,” Thomas admitted, fiddling with his hands. “My cousin Oliver Keeler is the heir to the Duke of Oxenbury, and so he carries his father’s secondary title, the Earl of Rutledge.”
“She will be a duchess someday, then. How delightful. I suppose the Oxenbury estate is quite large?”
“Very. My uncle’s main seat is Birkhall Palace in Norfolk, but he owns several other smaller estates.”
“And what is your estate called?”
“Ash-Ashdown Abbey.”
“An abbey? How fascinating. It must be a building of great antiquity.”
“My ancestor purchased it from King Henry VIII. Although there have been more recent additions to the building.”
Mrs. Jones gave a high, false laugh. “I should hope so. I doubt you wish to live as a monk.”
“No. No. I am very fond of young ladies… I mean I hope to make many new acquaintances during my visit.”
Her smile widened. “Well, I am delighted to be one of your new acquaintances, and I should like to introduce you to my daughter Cordelia. She is about your same age.”
“I should like very much to meet your daughter,” Thomas said, and he was telling the truth. If the daughter was half as pretty as the mother, he would count himself lucky. And he did not need to ask what the daughter’s dowry was to know that the Joneses were dripping in dollars. Everything about the house was as expensive as it was ostentatious.
“I am sure she will be just as eager to meet you, Lord Farnham. Perhaps you could grace us with your presence for dinner tomorrow night?”
“I’m afraid I already have a previous commitment with Mrs. Fish.”
