Her brother Gideon and his wife Serafina were seated together at one end of the long table. Gideon’s arduous journey to Rome to retrieve his mother and sister Augusta hadn’t all been self-sacrificing—he’d also managed to capture the heart of a nobleman’s daughter and make her his wife. The Marquis of Holwell was whispering sweet nothings into the Italian beauty’s ear and Serafina’s face was flushed with pink.
I do not wish to know what he is saying to her.
Victoria’s bedroom happened to be right next door to the room occupied by the newlyweds, and from the noises which reached her ears each night, she had a very good idea what put the color in her sister-in-law’s cheeks. Unwed young misses like herself were not meant to know about such things, but anyone who spent any length of time in the ladies retiring room at parties quickly learned a good deal about the secrets of the marriage bed.
She cleared her throat. “Not at the breakfast table, please.”
A grinning Gideon shifted barely an inch away from his wife. “Good morning, Victoria. How are you this bright sunny day?”
“Your hair looks…” Serafina paused. Her brows furrowed. Victoria knew that look all too well. Serafina’s English was improving at a rapid rate, but some words still failed her.
Serafina glanced at her husband, smiled sweetly at him, then looked back to Victoria. “Divine.”
Victoria nodded her approval. “I would say your English is now officially better than Gideon’s Italian.”
Not that it would take much.
From what Serafina had confided to her, the Marquis of Holwell’s use of the Italian language was mostly confined to the topics of food and romance. Less of the former, and more of the latter if the look on Gideon’s face was anything to go by. Her brother was the epitome of a man who had suddenly found himself head over heels in love and was more than happy to remain in that blissful state.
She wondered how long it would be before the young couple shared some happy news about the Kembal family blood line being continued. As the future duke, it was Gideon’s role to ensure that he and Serafina produced an heir.
They have certainly got the practicing bit down to a fine art.
Taking a seat at the breakfast table, Victoria caught the eye of a footman, and gave him her usual morning request. “A small cup of coffee please, no food.”
She never ate at home. As soon as she had finished her drink and secured this morning’s copy of the newspaper, she’d be headed out the door and to the nearby German bakery. English eggs and toast couldn’t compare to hot sourdough bread covered with a generous lashing of salted butter. Only after she’d downed her breakfast, would she be able to face her mother.
Victoria’s gaze landed onthe Morning Herald, and her heart sank. Its less than pristine condition was sad confirmation that several other family members had already carelessly thumbedtheir way through it. She leaned across the table and picked it up.
“The Graceful Swanis the review for today,” said Gideon.
Victoria offered up her usual Thursday morning silent prayer, hoping that the restaurant reviewer had found a good place to eat. One he recommended. Her life revolved around food, especially the establishments which the cultured palates of the London press saw fit to feature in print. The reviewer forthe Morning Heraldwas someone she had come to place her faith in.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“Apparently, he found it quite decent. Worth the visit,” replied Gideon. No one knew the identity of the reviewer forthe Morning Herald, but everyone in Mowbray House knew that when Victoria mentionedhe, she was referring to the mysterious gentleman who penned the weekly food review.
Decent. Not a glowing report. But if he says it’s worth visiting, that’s good enough for me.
The door of the breakfast room opened, and the remains of Lord Richard Kembal wandered in. Victoria took one look at his unkempt attire and her hopes for a peaceful morning enjoying her coffee instantly evaporated.
The state of Richard’s light brown mop was in stark contrast to that of Gideon's. While they shared almost the exact same shade of hair, the locks of the middle Kembal son had not had the benefit of a comb or brush.
He was still in his crumpled evening clothes, and a definite miasma of alcohol lingered all around him. Victoria grimaced as she caught a glimpse of her brother’s bloodshot eyes.
He looks awful. Even worse than usual.
“Morning all. Food. Brilliant. I’m starving,” announced Richard in a rough voice that spoke of one who had not seen his bed. Sauntering around to the other side of the table, he gentlylowered himself into the chair situated directly across from Victoria.
She noted that he made a point of not looking in the direction of either Gideon or Serafina, who both wore horrified expressions on their faces. And while Gideon simply muttered something under his breath, the Marchioness of Holwell wasn’t so easily deterred.
“Good morning, brother. I trust you are well,” said Lady Serafina.
Have you seen his eyes? He can barely focus.
Richard’s throat bobbed as he swallowed deep. From where Victoria sat, it was obvious the middle Kembal brother was still half drunk. She waited. If things went according to the usual way they did, he’d shovel the contents of a plateful of breakfast into his mouth, then quickly disappear up to his room for the rest of the morning.
Later in the day, when he was well enough to engage with the other members of the family, Richard would finally resurface. He would spend the obligatory amount of time with his parents and siblings, then head back out into the night to ruin himself all over again.
