Matthew assumed if Viola and her tiny mouthfuls were to decide to partake, they would have time to haveallthe horses re-shod.
Just then, a lone horseman clattered into the yard. Matthew turned to see what sort of idiot came in so fast with no care for the dust he sent up.
He quietly groaned. It was as if the fates were all rubbing their hands together and thinking up new ideas to vex him.
It was Mr. Cahill, a friend of Darden’s. On one of Darden’s infrequent visits to Somerset, he’d brought the fellow along.
He was the type of gentleman Matthew did not care for—all fluff and no substance. The sort who took great pains with his neckcloth, but probably little care of his estate. Mr. Cahill fancied himself a wit and the visit had been full of jokes which Matthew had thought fell rather flat, but the ladies had found hilarious. The fellow played at being gallant, though his gallantry was flimsy at best.
What rational man would jump into the pond to retrieve Beatrice’s handkerchief, even if itwasAugust and blazing hot? Everybody had seen perfectly well that she’d purposefully thrown it in.
But no, he must go after it, and to do so bare-chested, leaving his coat and shirt behind! Matthew had been forced to cover Beatrice’s eyes.
“Van Doren?” Cahill asked, appearing puzzled to see him there. Then, his puzzlement cleared, as he spotted first the earl, and then the carriageful of ladies the footmen were just now helping to the ground.
“Lord Westmont! Ladies, how wonderful to see you here,” he called to the various carriages. “Darden told me that you were coming, though he did not say what day. I believe he said you would leave on the fifteenth and arrive either on the eighteenth or sometime next year.”
“That scoundrel,” the earl said, laughing as he descended to the ground. “We’ve lost a shoe and so stopped here. How do you do, Mr. Cahill.”
“You are well met, my lord. What a happy accident! I am just come from seeing my mother and I change my horse here.”
“I suggest we all go in and rest ourselves while the work is done,” the earl said.
“We are going to order a plate of ham, Mr. Cahill,” Beatrice said, “you must join us.”
“I certainly could not resist an invitation for ham with five elegant ladies,” Mr. Cahill said, bowing from his saddle.
Matthew pressed his lips together. Of all the nonsense…
He dismounted and led the way into the inn. There, he found an innkeeper delighted to hear that one of their horses had thrown a shoe.
The farrier would be sent for, but Matthew had no hopes of the thing being done speedily. Such had been the innkeeper’s happiness to see them that he presumed that fellow would wish to give the party ample time to eat and drink as much as possible.
London was beginning to feel like a far-off dream. They were like Sisyphus, forever striving but never arriving.
“Van Doren,” Mr. Cahill said, as they were being led into one of the private dining rooms, “Darden did not say you were escorting this charming caravan.”
“The earl requested it,” he answered, thinking Cahill would view it a deal less charming if he’d been a part of it these last two days.
“I doubt I mentioned Van Doren would be with us in my last letter,” the earl said. “It seemed rather a given, of course he must come with us.”
“Oh yes,” Beatrice said, “Van Doren always seems to be about.”
Matthew glared at her. It was rather rich that Beatrice sounded as ifshewere the one inconvenienced.
They had seated themselves round the table while two young men rolled in a cart laden with a tea service and cakes and biscuits.
“And we shall want a plate of ham, too,” Cordelia said to them.
She’d said it as if she were a queen ordering about a page. Matthew supposed she was pretending to be Desdemona again. It was an odd obsession that had nearly burnt the house down twice.
At the mention of ham, Viola stared at Matthew as if she thought he might challenge the ordering of it. Which he would very much like to do.
Miss Mayton did the honors with the tea and soon enough everyone was supplied with what they wished for. And the inevitable slices of ham.
“It is a fine thing, Mr. Cahill,” the earl said, “that you visit your mother. You ought to pass along the habit to my rascally son, as we do not see Darden nearly as often as we would wish.”
“We always like to see Darden,” Beatrice said.
