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FOURTEEN
Stockworth Manor – Drawing room
Shortly before supper that evening
Holding a glass of claret,Jack stood beside the blazing fire and examined the cheerful tableau before him. Festive ribbon-adorned greeneries now festooned the drawing, entry, ballroom, and dining rooms. Laughing guests, swathed in evening finery and dripping with glittering jewels, milled about.
So far, the Templetons’ yuletide house party was a rousing success.
The Penfords had entered the drawing room fifteen minutes ago, Lenora Langford and her husband, Stephen, five minutes later. Though Emmet hobbled around with a borrowed cane, he hadn’t stopped grinning since arriving.
The only thing missing to complete the evening was Aubriella’s pretty face, her ready—often droll—wit, and her perceptive acumen.
Would she remain in her chamber for supper too?
People had commented on her and Roxina Danforth’s absence this afternoon.
Jack missed Aubriella’s company, but understood she needed time to process her disappointment. It wasn’t like her to pout, though he knew he’d made her angry. Rather than seek her out to explain there’d been a fire at one of his restaurants, he’d decided to let her temper cool. Though grateful for the temporary respite in having to honor his wager with her, he couldn’t help but worry about the restaurant.
Thank God all the staff and patrons had escaped without harm. According to the letter sent by the manager and delivered by special messenger just before tea today, the staff contained the fire damage to the kitchen. Still, the smoke had permeated and damaged the dining area, too.
He needed to inspect the building to determine if he’d rebuild, move the restaurant to a new location, or abandon the venture altogether. He and Duncan had considered opening a seashore inn and restaurant in Brighton or Bath—mayhap now was the time to do so.
He took a sip of wine and returned Emmet’s nod of greeting.
While waiting for the dinner gong to sound, the guests assembled for a pre-dinner drink and conversation. The snow continued to fall outside, although not with the intensity it had earlier today. Five or six inches had accumulated, and as long as it didn’t snow heavily overnight, he could leave tomorrow as planned.
He’d ride rather than take a coach. It was faster and easier to maneuver. Deucedly colder, too. If all went well, he should return in three days, just as he promised Aubriella.
A commotion at the door drew his attention.
Fredericks, the Templetons’ staid-as-a-corpse butler, crossed the room with such alacrity several guests turned to watch his progress. Without preamble, he spoke near Mr. Penford’s ear.
Mr. Penford gawped at the butler, then blinked behind his thick spectacles as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d heard.
Fredericks said something further and discreetly gestured toward the doorway.
Mr. Penford touched his wife’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. Her expression confused, Mrs. Penford finally dragged her attention from their youngest child, preening before a trio of young bucks.
One hand linked through her husband’s elbow, Mrs. Penford grasped Jessamine’s hand and all but hauled her toward the exit.
Noticing something was afoot, Emmet, leaning heavily on his borrowed cane, maneuvered through the crowd toward his parents. His flustered father spoke swiftly and rather frantically as they moved toward the corridor.
Jack set his half-full glass on the mantel.
Across the room, he met Shelby Tellinger’s mystified gaze.
Tellinger arched an eyebrow as he gave the Penfords and Langfords, now moving en masse toward the exit, a questioning look.
Angling his head and jerking his chin, Jack indicated he meant to follow.
Shelby joined him at the doorway. “Until tonight, I’ve never seen Clarence Penford anything but sedate and befuddled.”
“Neither have I.” Jack gave a brief glance over his shoulder as he stepped into the corridor.
Several guests noticed the Penfords’ and Langfords’ sudden departure, and a buzz of conjecture soon filled the drawing room.
Jack unabashedly followed the family into the dining room.
