The house was a hunting box? That was what her companion had said. But Rosamund, gazing out through the carriage window onto a predominantly white world, found herself looking at a quite imposing gray stone house. Obviously whoever had built it had intended to have large hunting parties. There must be at least eight bedchambers abovestairs and as many rooms below.
The snow was still whirling thickly down and had settled at an alarming speed. The coachman had to kick it aside before lowering the carriage steps outside the door of the house, and when her companion went down them in order to hand her out, his booted feet completely disappeared into the whiteness.
Dennis was going to be furious. And frantic. And what about him? Would he be hopelessly lost and stranded looking for her?
“Your brother will not take foolish risks,” the earl said, guessing her thoughts as she put her hand in his and set her foot on the top step. “And he will guess that you have found shelter somewhere. There is really no alternative, ma’am, but to relax here until the storm has passed and the roads have cleared.”
“Yes,” she said, joining him in the snow, “you are quite right, sir.”
A manservant opened the door of the house and ushered them into a tiled hallway from which a stairway rose straight to the floor above. He opened the door into a sitting room after assuring them that there was a fire in there.
“I shall tell Mrs. Reeves that you have arrived, sir,” he said, “and have her bring you some refreshments.”
“Ah, warmth,” Rosamund said, crossing the room and holding her hands out to the fire. “Blessed warmth.”
Lord Wetherby made his way to a sideboard on which were glasses and several decanters. “Brandy is what we both need,” he said, “I hope you do not get a chill out of your ordeal.”
“Oh, I never take chills,” she said, but she took the glass from his outstretched hand. She frowned at the amber liquid. “I have never tasted it. Is it very strong?”
“Drink it in one gulp,” he said. “It will warm you from the inside.”
“A prospect not to be resisted,” she said. She swirled the brandy around in the glass a few times the way she had seen Leonard do it, lifted it to her lips, and tossed back its contents. She swallowed . . . and clutched first her throat and then her stomach. She coughed and thrust the empty glass at her companion.
He laughed. “It will feel good once you have recovered from the shock,” he said.
Rosamund continued to cough. “Poison,” she said with a gasp. “I’m going to die.”
“No,” he said, “I assure you you are not.”
She felt warmth spread inside her and managed to get the coughing under control. And she glanced at the man who was standing three feet in front of her, his own glass still in his hand. He was laughing at her, his eyes dancing with merriment. And she noticed suddenly and for the first time that he was a very handsome man.
His teeth were white and even and his eyes were very blue: a quite lethal combination, she decided. His hair was fair and wavy and rather too long—too long by fashionable standards, though not by any standards of attractiveness. He was half a head taller than she, slim, and yet not puny, either. Oh, no, definitely not puny. The slimness related to his waist and hips. He had muscles in all the right places.
Carriages were noisy things, Rosamund realized suddenly. Lack of conversation was not noticed in a carriage. Not that there had been any lack of conversation there. But the sitting room in which they stood seemed very quiet.
He was still smiling. “Have you decided to survive?” he asked.
“It was very unkind of you not to warn me,” she said.
“Had I allowed you to sip at it,” he said, “you would have grimaced after the first sip, as I have seen so many ladies do, and refused to take another drop. Don’t you feel warmer now?”
Considerably warmer. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “I do.”
Fortunately for her poise and dignity the door opened at that moment to admit the woman who served as cook, housekeeper, and maid all in one. And Rosamund blessed her silently. She was clearly a garrulous soul.
“What a blessing it is that you arrived safe and sound,” she said, bustling over to a table and setting down a large tray. “They won’t come today, I told Reeves. Not in this weather they won’t. But, then, it would have been such a shame to have had to spend goodness knows how many days at an inn. The linen is never aired or the food decent in inns, is it, madam? I have brought you some tea and cakes and bread and butter. The liquor is over there, sir. Oh, you have found it, I see. And a good thing, too. I’m sure you need warming. I’m Mrs. Reeves at your service. Mr. Price did not name the gentleman we were to expect.”
“Halliday,” the earl said quickly. “Justin Halliday. And Mrs. Hunter.”
Mrs. Reeves looked assessingly at Rosamund and then at the earl. “Reeves has carried your trunks up to the main bedchamber, sir,” she said. “There is a fire burning there and all the sheets have been properly aired, I do assure you, ma’am.”
Rosamund was speechless at the implications.
“You will need to prepare another room, if you please, Mrs. Reeves,” Lord Wetherby said. “Please move my things into it. Mrs. Hunter will occupy the main bedchamber.”
“I shall see to it at once,” Mrs. Reeves said. “Don’t worry, sir, about the chills or damp sheets. I aired out the green room too until we heard yesterday that Mr. Price would not be coming.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reeves,” the earl said dismissively.
