‘She would be married by now, if the fellows in London had got to know her as well as they should have.’
‘Perhaps so,’ Thomas agreed. It did seem strange that such a sweet girl had had such trouble making a match. ‘She is shy,’ he added, to answer his own question. Perhaps he could help her with that, as well. He welcomed the chance to know her better. Eventually, there might be a gentleman who valued her as more than just a bookkeeper. The idea rankled, probably because he could not think of a single fellow who might be worthy of her. If the men in London had not noticed her in three years, they did not deserve another chance.
For some reason, he much preferred the thought of her living alone in the cottage with the roses. He could visit her there. But not unchaperoned, of course. When she was a widow, people might think she was entertaining him in a way that was less than proper.
And, considering the dreams he’d been having, he probably could not be trusted alone with her. Did she enjoy writing letters? Perhaps they could enjoy a correspondence like the one he’d imagined she’d had with Smith…
The door to the sitting room opened. A footman appeared and announced in a quiet voice that they were summoned to, ‘attend the master’.
‘Tell my sister that we will meet her in the master suite,’ Percy said, his volume dropping to match the servant’s. Then he looked at Thomas again. ‘We might as well get it over with, old boy. If we delay, it will only be worse.’ Then he rose and they made their way, with no great haste, towards Lord Skeffington’s bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the maid came to tell her that the time had come, Louisa had finished her tea and gone to her room via the back stairs, just as Percy had suggested. It was not particularly dignified, but it was less trying on the nerves than being caught before she was ready and required to account for herself. She had done nothing wrong. At least, nothing she could think of. But it seemed that her presence was all it took to make Grandfather unhappy and she wished to put off the proof of that for as long as she could.
She’d washed and changed into one of her best day dresses, taking care that it was not too extravagant, nor too plain. She was not a dowd, but neither was she wasteful with what money she was given. The blue striped muslin, trimmed in bias stripes of the same fabric, was fashionable without calling attention to itself, just as she liked it.
Percy had told the servant they would meet her in Grandfather’s bedroom, which meant they would arrive first. Not too early, she hoped, or she would be scolded for her tardiness. She opened her bedroom door and listened for the sound of voices on the stairs before going out to join the men, who were coming towards her from the opposite end of the hall.
Percy waved and smiled at her, gesturing that she hurry so they might meet in the doorway at the same time. As they did, the duke took a protective step towards her, as if he was eager that they be seen as a couple.
It was just what she’d imagined a real fiancé might do, on the rare occasions her fantasy had included a wedding. In those dreams, the interview had been brief, for she’d also created a guardian who’d smiled and wished her well. But to have a daydream too close to reality was nothing more than worrying and she did enough of that already.
She refused to do that now. This would be the only visit of its kind and what would be would be. She would smile through it, no matter what. She nodded to Percy that she was ready and he knocked on the door of the suite.
‘Enter.’
The word might have been ‘Run!’ for how it affected her. Her knees went weak and she turned towards the stairs, ready to retreat.
The duke placed a steadying hand on her elbow, as Percy opened the door, then led her forward into the bedroom.
She had not seen Grandfather since a brief visit last Christmas. Six months, almost seven, was a long time, for an old man. Each time she returned home, she could not help looking for changes in his face or his manner that would prove time’s passing.
She rarely found any. He was sitting in his favourite armchair, a silk robe thrown over his shirt and waistcoat. It gave the impression that he’d just got up from a nap, though the bed had not been slept in. A thick cane was ever ready at his side, to be pounded on the floor in moments of displeasure.
His hair had been steel grey when they had first come here. It was not getting any greyer, nor had it grown sparse. His eyes were grey as well, but still clear. His face was lined but not wrinkled. The creases were more the result of his perpetual frown than an indication that he was nearing his end.
And now, he was looking from one to the other of them, a minute examination that hinted his mind was as sharp as ever.
‘You took your time getting here,’ he said finally, glaring at Percy.
The criticism had no obvious effect. Her brother’s smile never wavered. ‘Hullo, Grandfather. It is good to see you as well.’
‘If you were eager to see me, you’d have been here long before now. I called fully a half hour ago.’
‘I was in the garden, enjoying a pipe.’
Since Percy never smoked, this was an obvious lie meant to draw attention away from her. She must remember to thank him, later.
‘Tobacco is a filthy habit,’ the old man snapped.
‘Isn’t it though,’ Percy replied. ‘Expensive as well.’
Grandfather growled in response.
‘The roads were dry and the weather fine, all the way from London,’ Percy said, answering the polite question about their travel that had not been asked. ‘We made good time.’
‘And brought a stranger into my house,’ he replied, staring at the duke with dislike.
