They said their goodbyes and walked him to the lane. He was about to mount Zeus when he had an idea. “You know… I’ve a feeling I have a couple of sacks of old seed peas in a barn somewhere.” A lie. “So old, I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t grow, but a few might germinate and so you’re welcome to them if you want to conduct an experiment. They’re doing nothing in my barn apart from slowly rotting, so someone might as well make use of them.”
The two sons instantly looked to their father, their interest clearly piqued, but the older man shook his head and squared his shoulders. “I won’t take them for free but I’ll pay you a fair price for them.”
“I think a fair price for old seed that might not grow is nothing, Mr. Travers.” A response that made the patriarch of the family set his stubborn jaw. So Guy scratched his as if weighing up his options. “But if it does, seeing as it’s technicallymyseed, although arguably all your land, your labor, and you’d have to find the market to sell it, I’d be happy to take… five percent of your profits once you have it as compensation.” He deliberately went in low because he had a feeling Mr. Travers would insist on increasing the percentage to save face.
He didn’t disappoint.
“Ten percent. I won’t take it off your hands for less.”
“Ten it is, then.” Guy stuck out his hand and they shook on the deal.“I’ll get one of my lads to deliver it.” Just as soon as he bought it. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”
“We won’t be having as good an evening as you.” Dan’s comment earned him another dig in the ribs from his older brother and he winced again. “Assuming you are doing something good, that is. But whatever you are doing… um… I hope it goes well for you.”
“So do I.” Especially as what he was doing involved plighting his tentative troth to Dan’s baby sister. “And I hope I see you all soon.” Where, no doubt, if tonight went really well, they’d all want to loom over him and quiz him on his intentions.
ChapterSIXTEEN
“Not long now, Lady Harper, I promise. Please return to your room until you are summoned. We don’t want to spoil Lord Wennington’s surprise now, do we? I am sure your daughter’s perfect coiffure will last until then.” Lottie ushered the fretting mother up the stairs with a tight smile before she glanced at the hallway clock again.
It was already twenty minutes to eight and Lord Wennington should have been home an hour ago. Why wasn’t he?
“Any sign?” Lady Wennington stopped pacing as soon as Lottie entered the dining room.
“Not yet, my lady, and your guests are getting restless. Trying to keep them all hidden is becoming a bit like herding cats in fog. No sooner do I send one back to their room, another appears on the landing.”
With impeccable timing, Longbottom, who was trying his best to keep the surprise intact from the back of the house, slammed into the dining room too. His expression every bit as frazzled as Lottie felt.
“Your difficult French chef is adamant that his culinary masterpiece cannot be held until half past eight, Lady Frinton, and will be serving the first course at a quarter past as originally planned whether there are guests to eat it or not.” From her butler’s clipped tone, it was clear that words had been said. “He told me to tell you that he would rather quitthan compromise the delicate quality of hissoufflés au quatre fromages,which are already in the oven.”
“Oh, poo!” Lady Frinton blew a raspberry. “Unyielding, my backside! François has threatened to quit at least a thousand times this last year alone. Go back and tell him to jolly well take the things out of the oven or I’ll head to the kitchen myself to give him what for.”
“I wish you would, my lady, as I’m this close to…” Longbottom made a brief fist before he clicked his heels together and bowed. “Very good, my lady.” He shot Lottie a glare as he spun on his heel. One that very much suggested that even he had reached the end of his tether this evening.
“Where the devil is my son!” Lady Wennington was peeking out of the curtains now for any signs of life outside. “He knows dinner is always at eight sharp. Always!”
“He might have a good excuse. Or be injured in some way—” Lottie’s concerned reasoning was cut off by a raised palm.
“He had better be close to death, the ingrate, because if he isn’t, he soon will be!” As his irate mother began to pace again, another mother poked her head around the dining room door.
“Any news on when we all need to come down?”
“Not yet, Mrs. Maybury.” Lottie smiled through intensely gritted teeth. “I told you that I would personally come and fetch you when the time has come.” It took all her strength not to add the word “twice.” “Hurry back to your room now, if you please.” As soon as the woman left, she turned to Lady Frinton. “If we leave them up there much longer, not only will your surprise be ruined, there will be mutiny.”
“Agreed. What’s our contingency plan?”
At first Lottie assumed that Lady Wennington had that answer, but when both ladies stared at her, she realized they didn’t. “We don’t have a contingency plan, do we?”
“We don’t,” said Lady Frinton, bristling, “but I had hoped you would have had the foresight to prepare one, Travers, as that is what I am paying you for. I don’t have a dog to bark myself, gal.”
Dumbfounded, Lottie gaped, then huffed. It was pointless arguing over it as someone had to do something to salvage the situation and it clearly wasn’t going to be these two. They had made camp here in the dining room over an hour ago and had done nothing but issue unhelpful instructions ever since. “Lady Wennington, would it be possible to begin to amass the guests in here without bringing them down the main staircase where your son might see them?”
She nodded. “There is, but it is a convoluted route down the servants’ stairs and through the kitchen.” She pointed to the discreet door in the paneling. “That will bring them out here.”
“Longbottom will know the route.” Lady Frinton said that with all the assurance of one who thought her butler knew everything. “Get it done and we’ll play the rest by ear once Guy deigns to grace us with his presence.”
Muttering under her breath, Lottie went to the kitchen to fetch Longbottom and found him in the midst of a whispered shouting match with the temperamental François.
“Do you ’ave any idea what happens to whippedœufsif they are interrupted during cooking, Monsieur Longbottom?Pfffft!They sink! Then it isau revoir soufflé!”
