Lord Darling bleated at him, as if to confirm that he’d made a wise choice.
The drawing room doors opened and Viola, now Lady Baderston, entered with her new husband.
Viola crossed the room and was with them in a trice, throwing her arms round her sisters. Lord Baderston greeted the earl. Then he said, “Gad, you’ve got a goat in here.”
The earl looked askance at the goat. Cordelia thought that, for all his willingness to overlook Lord Darling’s presence on account of women’s problems, he was not that eager for his newest son-in-law to notice it.
“That is Lord Darling, Lord Baderston,” Cordelia said, “as I know you to be a particularly genial and liberal gentleman, I am convinced you shan’t mind it.”
Lord Baderston, having been named both genial and liberal, could not of course mind it. He nodded as if it were the most usual thing in the world.
Cordelia heard more noise from the front hall—the more difficult hurdle had arrived. Conbatten.
Rosalind floated into the room on the arm of her duke. “Sisters!” she cried. “How I have longed to see you. Dear Aunt, you are looking marvelous.”
What commenced over the next few minutes was a flurry of embraces, examination of dresses, interrogations regarding health and happiness, explanations as to Lord Darling’s presence, and flighty giggles.
Those things having run their course, Conbatten, who stood ever so well put together and taking in the scene from under his hooded eyes, said, “I feel I should be surprised at noticing a goat here, and yet I am not.”
“My darling Conbatten is so rarely taken off his guard,” Rosalind said. “Just the other day, I brought home two Chartreux kittens and they very naughtily got into his neckcloths and made a frightful mess of it. He did not lose his equanimity for even a moment.”
“I dared not,” Conbatten said, “My valet was in a state of apoplexy and one of us had to keep our head.”
“Poor Henri,” Rosalind said, “Always threatening to throw himself into the Thames over the slightest mishap.”
Darden came into the room and once more there was a flurry of greetings. “Well! We are the merry party, are we not?”
“We most certainly are,” the earl said.
“I see Lord Darling has weaseled his way in,” Darden said laughing.
“Yes, well as to that,” the earl said, “it was unavoidable. Ah, there is Tattleton giving me the signal. We can go through.”
Darden was ofcourse right—they were a very merry party. News of all sorts was exchanged, and Miss Mayton recounted the final words of Gregorio before he perished on his library floor after dealing himself a deadly blow. Neither Lord Baderston nor the duke challenged the story, very unlike Van Doren who was always trying to shoot it full of holes.
Conbatten even said, “He was admirably effusive, Miss Mayton, though his lifeblood was fast draining into the carpet.”
Miss Mayton nodded and murmured, “A man in love always is, no matter the circumstance.”
Cook had done a first-rate job on the dinner and Tattleton was at his stiff and upright best. Cordelia was certain they were both cognizant of having a duke in the house, especially Tattleton.
Finally, the dessert course was going round and they were coming close to when the ladies must retire and leave the men to their port.
Cordelia wished to say something though, before they must rise. She wished to ask something. The situation with Lord Harveston was like a constant little itch in her mind.
Was it a situation, though? What was it, exactly?
Cordelia was not certain. She only knew that it irked her in some fashion that he held her in disdain. It irked her that knowledge wrung from books was to be the yardstick with which she was measured.
“I would like to ask the gentlemen a question,” she said. “And of course you too, Papa.”
The earl smiled. “I am flattered to be named one of the company of gentlemen at table.”
“Oh, you do know what I mean,” Cordelia said, laughing.
“Indeed, I do, my dear.”
“I wonder, is it better that a gentleman spend all his time with his nose in a book, or should he spend all his time on physical activities?”
