Everyone looked expectantly toward the door. The duke shouted at it. “Mr. Why!”
Felicity bit her lip, as the name Why was very amusing. At the same time, she could not help but notice that Mr. Stratton looked pretty bowled over. She supposed meeting her entire family at once was a lot to take in.
Mr. Sykes-Wycliff appeared at the doors.
“Mr. Stratton,” Lady Marchfield said, “I would like to clarify that this dignified butler’s proper name is Mr. Sykes-Wycliff. Please disregard my brother’s attempts at humor, which nobody finds funny.”
Mr. Sykes-Wycliff nodded sadly. “Your Grace?” he asked.
“We will go through,” the duke said, “no reason to stand around staring at each other in the drawing room.”
The butler, who was looking very pale, nodded and led them through.
Felicity sat on the duke’s right, and Mr. Stratton sat on Lady Marchfield’s right at the other end.
Valor, being the youngest, was in the middle of the table, but they were not so many that they could not all talk together. Her youngest sister leaned forward and stared at Mr. Stratton.
“Can I ask you something?” Valor said.
“Brace yourself, Stratton,” the duke said, “you never know what you’ll be asked when it comes to this string of setbacks.”
“I am braced,” Mr. Stratton said.
“Well, it’s just that, personally, I am terrified of tigers,” Valor said. “I was even afraid of them when I thought they were all trapped in India. Now I’m even more afraid because one is in England. Is it even the only one? Are there more? So I was wondering, were you scared?”
The footman had just filled Mr. Stratton’s wine glass with her father’s excellent hock. He took a small sip and set it down. “I was petrified, Lady Valor,” he said.
Felicity was rather surprised by that. He’d not seemed petrified. He had seemed very calm and confident.
Valor, for her part, nodded in commiseration.
“If you were petrified, why didn’t you run away, then?” Patience asked.
“Never run from a cat,” Mr. Stratton said. “Anybody with a housecat knows it.”
“Do you have a cat?” Serenity asked.
Mr. Stratton nodded in the affirmative.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Winsome asked.
For some reason, Mr. Stratton seemed reluctant to answer. However, with seven young ladies staring at him and the duke laughing at the sight, he did not have much choice.
“Mind you,” Mr. Stratton said, “I got him when I was young. Very, very young.” Mr. Stratton fumbled with his napkin and said, “His name is Blueberry.”
“You have a blue kit-cat!” Valor said, seeming very interested in the idea.
“No, I just liked blueberries. As I said, very young,” Mr. Stratton said.
“Hah!” the duke exclaimed. “Wait until I see Denderby! I’ll say, I understand you have a cat named Blueberry in your house. It’s very eccentric, Sir Pineapple!”
“Papa!” Grace said, “Do not tease Mr. Stratton, or his father when you see him. You are very naughty!”
With that, Grace flung a roll. Felicity supposed it was meant to be sailing toward the duke, but of course it went very wide of the mark and hit Thomas square in the chest. He seemed delighted, and Felicity imagined he had won that bet.
“For heaven’s sake,” Lady Marchfield said. “Do attempt to recall, all of you, that you have a guest at table.”
Most of the duke’s daughters were relatively immune to Lady Marchfield’s complaints. Valor, however, nodded gravely. “Tell me, Mr. Stratton, how are you finding the weather?”
