“That will be all, Blackford. Please call my maid and his lordship’s valet.” Silvia crouched down and inspected the bed. “This has been going on for a while.” She rose. “The only thing to do is go to Cousin Clara’s. She has more than enough room.”
“We can go to the Pulteney.”
“I would not feel comfortable at a hotel.” Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her head against his chest. “She’ll understand. To-morrow we can look at some warehouses for pieces that are already built, then order the rest.” She reached up and pulled his head down. “We shall be fine. Come, husband, I still want you to bed me.”
“Vixen.” Despite his foul mood, Nick smiled. “You would have made a fine soldier’s wife.”
“I know. Let’s find different quarters, Colonel. We still have a ball to attend.”
Shortly before eight that evening, Rupert descended from his town coach and up the steps of Lady Telford’s home. He had distressing news for her, and wasn’t looking forward to her reaction.
Barnes opened the door. “Good evening, my lord. Her ladyship will be down shortly.”
“Is Lady Telford here?”
“She and the new Lady Beresford are in the drawing room. I’ll announce you.”
What the devil was Silvia Beresford doing here? Had Nick angered her already? “Thank you.”
“Stanstead, good to see you.” Nick greeted him with a glass of wine. “I know you must be surprised to see me, but the thing is”—the man actually flushed—“we had a mishap and are staying here until the house can be redone.”
Rupert moved toward the sofa, only to see Silvia blushing a deep red. “Lady Telford, Lady Beresford, good evening.”
“Don’t mind them.” Lady Telford shook her head at the younger couple. “Never thought I’d see a military man turn missish. Their bed broke, and it turned out most of the furniture was rotten. That’s what happens when a house doesn’t have a mistress.”
“Cousin Clara!” Silvia blushed even harder if that was possible.
Rupert gave brief thanks to the deity that his furniture was still sound, and struggled not to laugh. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Better check your own, Stanstead,” the older woman remarked caustically.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Rupert.”
Vivian entered the drawing room. Every day she was lovelier.
He kissed her cheek before leading her to the window seat. “Your father has arrived. I drove around Berkeley Square before coming to fetch you. The lights were on and the knocker is back on the door.”
She gave a tight nod, and drew a breath. “That is unfortunate. Clara, I believe you will be having a meeting of some Ladies’ Benevolent Society here in the morning.”
Rupert was all at sea. What the deuce was she talking about? “I’m happy his arrival hasn’t thrown you into a panic, but why would you want your cousin to have a houseful of women when we are marrying to-morrow?”
“Not a real one.” Vivian giggled. “Father is terrified of groups of women. Particularly of ladies who do good works. He will leave his card and slink away until it is safe to return.”
“And by then, we’ll be at my house for the wedding breakfast.”
“Exactly. I decided there was no reason to be afraid of him.” She smiled, and Rupert wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her in front of everyone. “I’ve made my decision. I signed the settlement agreements, and there is really nothing, other than bluster, he can do about it. He’ll simply have to find another dog.”
“This is not the first time you have mentioned a dog. What does an animal have to do with all of this?” Clara stared at Vivian as if she’d lost her sense. After a moment, she must have finally understood. She snapped her wineglass down. “Tewkesbury. Of course. I should have made the connection before now. That cur. Your father should breed himself to a dog. I would like to say I cannot believe he would trade his daughter for a bitch, but that is exactly what the muttonheaded idiot did, is it not?”
Vivian nodded, but Rupert was pleased to see that she did not seem nearly as upset as she had earlier.
“Isn’t he the fellow who has the prize hunting hounds?” Nick asked.
“The very one,” Rupert replied, ready to strangle Vivian’s father. “But you’d better be prepared to give up your firstborn daughter for the privilege of owning one.”
“Well, of all the corked-brained ideas,” Silvia added. “I cannot believe, in this modern time, he’d do such a thing.”
