six
The next day, Effie pondered whether to go to Lord Montcrest or not for about two minutes. He hadn’t sent a message, asking to see her father, and she was worried. Knowing how Zeus was faring was more important than any dispute he and her father might have had. Curiosity about him had a role in her decision, too.
After breakfast, she hurried along the already busy pavement with her friend Jane, Viscountess Vaughan.
The end of winter was being generous to Londoners. The sunny days drew everyone out but made the smell of horse dung stronger. Not that she minded it, but it covered the scent of the evergreen trees coming from the park.
“Did you see those parasols? So pretty.” She pointed at a couple of ladies twirling their light blue parasols.
Jane glanced at them. “I agreed to come with you, but we shouldn’t call on a gentleman without having an appointment. Gossip spreads quickly, especially when Montcrest is involved.”
Effie chuckled. “You don’t like Lord Montcrest, I gather.”
Jane patted her dark hair styled in a complicated French braid with curls and rolls. Her lady’s maid had a gift when it came to hairstyles. “From what I heard about him, he seems arather ruthless person. Inviting him to next week’s ball was my husband’s idea.”
She perked up. “Is he coming? I didn’t know.”
“He hasn’t confirmed his presence yet. I agreed to send him an invitation, only because not inviting him would have started rumours. Montcrest’s father was…” Jane shook her head. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Why not? They won’t gossip.”
“Very funny.”
“I want to know your opinion.” She paused before turning the corner towards Montcrest House. “Did something happen between my father and Lord Montcrest’s father?”
“I would say between the late marquess and everyone in London. My father-in-law told me the late marquess was a ruthless businessman. He tricked more than one gentleman with his greed, and I fear the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Did Lord Montcrest’s father damage Papa as well?”
Jane leant closer. “I don’t know the details. I heard the late marquess didn’t behave like a gentleman in a business deal. The rumours about his second wife are rather muddled, though. Apparently, she moved to the country to visit a relative and died of fever or something similar.”
Effie understood little of Papa’s business; animals were more interesting than numbers, but she could easily believe Lord Montcrest was a determined businessman.
Well, for now, she cared only about Zeus. And Lord Montcrest had nothing to do with a quarrel that had happened years ago between Papa and Lord Montcrest’s father.
Montcrest House towered over a cul-de-sac in its dark glory. Despite the fact its whitewashed walls sparkled, the glossy black front door, black-framed windows, and heavy-looking black fence gave the house a gloomy atmosphere. The cypress treesdid nothing to cheer up the look, and the dark amphorae on the porch resembled two guardians ready to kick out intruders.
Jane hesitated before knocking. “It looks like a cemetery.”
She agreed. “Anyone living here would have a temper.”
A tall, imposing butler opened the door, staring at them as if they were thieves.
Effie forced a smile. “Good morning.”
“Lady Vaughan.” Jane handed her calling card gracefully. “Lady Euphemia and we would like to see the marquess. if he’s accepting calls. If not, we’ll leave immediately. Good day.” She half-turned around.
“Or…” Effie stopped her. “If Lord Montcrest isn’t home, I may pay a visit to his stallion, Zeus, and see how he’s faring, if you would be so kind as to tell me where he is.”
The butler arched one of his bushy black eyebrows, the tails of which were completely white, so the eyebrows resembled two small skunks. “Please come in, my ladies. I’ll inform His Lordship you’re here.”
Effie and Jane entered the cavernous hallway. Only a small console table and a painting decorated the entry hall. Lord Montcrest didn’t waste space on frills, although the table was an expensive Sheraton piece and the painting looked like a Jacques-Louis David. Her footfall echoed in the domed ceiling.
Jane whispered, “The butler looks like a mortician and is just as cheerful.”
“You’re being influenced by the stern house.”
The butler showed them to the drawing room and bowed his way out with a quick, “Please wait here, my ladies.”
