sixteen
KEITH WENT TO take one of their bags stashed on the top of the carriage, but the coachman and a footman were faster and threw a curious glance at him. Right. He was a viscount. He didn’t need to fetch his own luggage.
Violante hooked her arm through his as they walked to the manor’s front door. Tall trees and hedges enclosed the estates. The thick vegetation formed a green wall around the garden and the driveway. The scent of pine trees and wet soil thickened the air. Only the birds’ song could be heard. One would believe they were in some remote forest and not a few hours away from London. Previous carriages had left a few marks on the ground. It was amazing no one had died driving there.
“Stunning place,” Violante said.
“The road is anything but. Mrs. Collins and Murray will have a hard time.”
The coming and going of servants to carry their luggage continued when they entered the manor through the wide set of double doors. The servants’ footsteps echoed off the cavernous entry hall, which fit the trip—a bumpy, dangerous road like that could only end up in a gloomy cavern.
A uniformed butler welcomed them. “Lord and Lady Ashford, I trust you had a pleasant trip. I’m Fletcher, at your service.”
Yes, as pleasant as being bitten by a snake. “Lovely.”
Violante hid her chuckle behind a polite cough.
“Follow me, please.”
The butler showed them to their bedroom upstairs. Like the entry hall, the room was wide enough to be considered a ballroom with a domed ceiling, dark wainscoting, and heavy dark drapes. At least the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view of the garden. Intricate garden. The hedges and bushes formed a maze pattern disturbing to look at. He’d get dizzy from staring at it.
“His Lordship will receive you in half an hour for a repast when the other guests arrive,” the butler said. “If you need to find the drawing room or need anything, ring the bell, and a maid will come.”
“What other guests, may I ask?” Violante asked, removing the feather-covered hat.
“Mr. Wellington and Sir Nigel, my lady,” the butler said.
Keith spun around from the window to face the butler. “Sir Nigel Glenister?”
“The very same, my lord.”
Keith tried not to scowl at the unpleasant news. The fact Nigel was after the count’s land wasn’t new, but his presence here was unexpected. “Thank you, Fletcher.”
The butler bowed and shut the door behind him.
Peace at last. And stillness. Keith dropped himself onto the bed and exhaled. Violante paced the room without touching anything as if worried she might break the glass vases or the golden lamps.
“Is it a problem that Sir Nigel is here?” she asked.
He rubbed his aching forehead. “It might be. Does he know you? Have you ever met him in Hampstead?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Papa never wanted me to go to Sir Howard’s house, and from what I know, Sir Nigel attended a boarding school away from Hampstead. Sir Howard and his family didn’t spend the whole year at their manor. I’ve never met Sir Howard’s sons.”
“His presence here is upsetting, but then again, Nigel wants to deal with the count as well.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Please don’t tell anyone Paul was your former stableboy. It might cause trouble.”
She came to a screeching stop and spun towards him. “Cause trouble? What about the truth about him being a thief?”
He held up his hand. “I understand. That came out wrong. What I mean is that it’d be to your advantage to keep your relationship with him quiet lest he decide to leave, and the count might ask questions about you we don’t want to answer.”
She pressed her lips. “Never mind. I don’t care about causing Paul trouble. I only want to get back what he owes me.”
She yanked her bags open and rummaged through them like a police officer would search the luggage of a suspect. She selected a few garments and disappeared behind the screen on the other side of the room. He should change, too. Dust covered his clothes and shoes. The next few days promised to be exhausting. He slid behind the other screen on the opposite side of the room and removed his boots and breeches. He exhaled in relief when he washed himself with the warm, soapy water in the basin.
“Why do you care about Paul, anyway?” she asked as the swish of silk came from her side of the room.
He chanced a glance through the louvred panel, only to catch a glimpse of her silhouette. She had a pretty silhouette. Nice hips. And legs. Elegant neck as well.
“He’s a good man who made a huge mistake.”
