“I will.” I took a deep breath and gave each of them a tight smile. “I’ll miss you two.”
“As will we.”
Before I knew it, Genevieve and I were rattling down the road, waving goodbye to a tearful yet ecstatic Lydia. My stepsister gazed out the window, eyes shining.
“Well, Amarante. Are you ready?”
Her question, though I knew only applied to the Season, resonated on many levels for me. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. I hoped very much that I wouldn’t set the Strongfoot’s house on fire.
When we arrived, I realized their residence could hardly be called a house—it was a mansion. Our footman drove us through ornate iron gates into a well-paved courtyard. We stopped in front of a short flight of steps that led to a massive structure of arched windows and creamy pillars where Tori and Lord Strongfoot stood waiting for us.
“Took you long enough,” Tori said as a greeting when Genevieve and I exited the carriage. She grabbed one of our suitcases from our footman and lugged it inside.
“Ah, welcome Amarante! And this must be your sister Genevieve!” Lord Strongfoot came forward. His beard looked even bushier and more impressive in broad daylight. “I regret Lady Strongfoot isn’t here to greet you two. She’s in the country tending to her old mother.”
After brief introductions and inquiries about the health of our respective families, Lord Strongfoot guided us inside.
Tori came down a spiral staircase. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re staying.”
The guest room was enormous, big enough to fit two comfortably sized beds with quite a bit of room to spare. Along the far side was a lovely arched window that overlooked the front yard and a bit of the busy streets below. Potted plants lined the windowsill and two dressing tables, complete with a mirror and stool, were set before the foot of the beds. Beside the door were two armoires, in which we hastily shoved our suitcases to deal with later.
“You have a beautiful home, Tori,” Genevieve said as Tori took us down to the dining room.
She snorted. “Oh, I know. Sometimes I wish it weren’t so pretty. I’d feel less guilty about making a mess.” The aroma of baking bread wafted through the air, tempting my empty stomach.
We passed a small archway to the dining room, which had generously large windows along one wall and a long mahogany table in the middle. Lord Strongfoot was already seated, and to my surprise, so were two young girls, neither much older than ten.
“Gimme back my egg, Ria,” one of them whined. She looked like the miniature version of Tori. The other, who had a hard-boiled egg smashed in her small fist, was fair haired with stout features. At our entrance, the two quieted and stared with large eyes.
“Ha! We should have visitors more often,” Tori said, patting her miniature on the cheek. “There’s hardly a moment when these two don’t shut up.”
Genevieve and I sat.
“You didn’t tell us you had little sisters, Tori,” Genevieve said, smiling at the two petrified children.
Tori pulled up a chair noisily. “Oh, these two? Meet Victoria and Victoria.”
Genevieve gave her a puzzled look.
“It was Pa’s genius idea,” Tori said dryly. She reached over to grab a roll from the center of the table as Lord Strongfoot lowered the newspaper he was reading.
“Darn right. Hit me like a ton of bricks. I say, if mother nature is gonna be repetitive with me and give me three daughters, I’ll do the darn same.” Lord Strongfoot gave a bellowing laugh.
“Hence, I’m Tori, this is Vicky, and that’s Ria,” Tori said, pointing from herself to her miniature and finally to the one with the egg smashed in her hand. She looked exasperated, as if Lord Strongfoot had told the same story too many times to count. “Let’s just eat.”
“Can’t I entertain our guests in peace?” Lord Strongfoot grumbled.
Tori turned to us and whispered, “Pa always gets grumpy when I don’t let him bore people. No doubt he’ll ask me to hoe the garden later, so you two are going to have to pretend to be occupied with something so I can join in. Hoeing is the worst,” she said with a grimace.
Ria giggled. Half of the smashed egg was on the side of her face.
The rest of the day went on reasonably well. Genevieve and I decided to partake in the laborious task of unpacking and gladly recruited Tori to help her escape the dreaded garden work. She got so bored that she ended up hoeing the gardens anyway. Vicky and Ria mysteriously disappeared after breakfast, but glimpses of messy hair and tiny limbs around the corners told us that they were curious enough to spy. Genevieve put an end to it when she began to organize her undergarments. The two scampered off with shrieks of horror.
When we finished unpacking, Tori gave us a tour of the house. Hours passed with lighthearted conversations and walks along the city streets. I forced myself to be at ease despite the worries nagging the back of my mind.
When night fell, we were called yet again to the dining room for dinner with Lord Strongfoot.
“I must admit I never had too many guests over since we got this manor, so you two ladies are the first to get a taste of Strongfoot hospitality.”
