Grace would have liked to send Thomas for tea at once, but the footman had disappeared.
“Lady Grace, I have returned the clothes to your footman that I was so generously supplied in my hour of need.”
Said footman popped his head back in the door and mouthed, “Tea?”
Grace nodded. Valor clapped and said, “You remembered to ask about tea. Well done, Thomas.” Then she turned to Lord Dashlend. “Our Thomas is still practicing being a footman. He is getting very good!”
“Yes, indeed, I can see that,” Lord Dashlend said kindly. “Lady Grace, Lady Valor, Lady Patience, Lady Winsome, Lady Verity, may I acquaint you with Lady Margaret? She is a cousin recently relocated to my house.”
It was not his grandmother, it was some sort of cousin. Still, he had brought a family member and there must be something in that. As well, Grace thought he was rather marvelous to remember all of their names. “Lady Margaret,” she said, “we are very pleased to know you.”
Lady Margaret nodded. “Now, I wish to make one thing clear, as Lord Dashlend has made it sound as if I arrived at his house by way of invitation. That is not the case.”
Goodness, whatwasthe case?
“Lady Margaret,” Lord Dashlend said, “I do not see the need to go into the details.”
Lady Margaret patted his hand. “I do, though. You see, Lady Grace, this wonderful gentleman came to attend me after I sent a note that I required him instantly. He is always very good about that. When he arrived, he noticed that my living situation had rather fallen to shambles, as half my staff had died.”
Lady Margaret held her hand up as if to stop any speculation before it began. Especially since Valor had buried her head in Mrs. Wendover’s raggedy bits upon mention of the staff dying.
“They were all very old, you see, as I am myself. Flu—not to be trifled with. Well, despite my protestations that I should not like to interfere with a bachelor’s lifestyle, he would insist I relocate.”
“That is very kind, Lord Dashlend,” Grace said.
“That’s him—kind as the day is long,” Lady Margaret said.
Thomas came in with the tea tray and set it in front of Grace. Goodness, it felt a bit fraught to play the hostess, all eyes on her hands and the cups.
“Lady Margaret,” she said, “how will you take your tea?”
“More milk than you would think and a dash of brandy,” the lady said.
“Brandy?” Grace said, working to keep the surprise from her voice. “Yes, of course. Thomas?”
As Thomas went to fetch the brandy decanter, Grace attempted to work out how much a dash was. She’d never heard of anybody putting it in their tea.
“It’s my old bones, you see,” Lady Margaret said by way of explanation. “The brandy soothes them.”
Valor inched her way across the sofa to Lady Margaret. “Are your bones very old?”
“Old as Methuselah, poppet.”
“Gracious,” Valor said. “Our vicar told us that Methuselah lived for almost a thousand years.”
Lady Margaret nodded. “Sometimes it just feels like it.”
“I told the vicar that Methuselah must have looked terrible after even a hundred years and I asked if he was afraid to look in mirrors and then the vicar scolded me for thinking about the wrong thing.”
“Hah! Take everything your usual vicar has to say with a hefty grain of salt. No sense of humor, those people.”
Thomas returned and Grace added the smallest bit of brandy to the lady’s tea and handed her the cup and saucer.
Valor put her hand in Lady Margaret’s free hand. “I know that must be right,” she said. “I told the vicar that sometimes stealing was necessary, you know because the commandments say you can never do it. He was so cross about it!”
“Let me hazard a guess—stealing biscuits?”
“Yes!”
