“How could we not?” Merry gave a stiff curtsy, not attempting to hide her disgust.
Serendipity gave her a scolding look before stepping forward with a much more gracious curtsy. “It is good to see you again, my lord. How have you been keeping?”
Lord Brixham’s pale blue eyes danced with the mischief Merry remembered as he bowed to each of them. “I am quite well now that I am back from the Continent, Lady Serendipity.” He slowly shook his head while eyeing them as if they were plump little guinea fowl hanging in the butcher’s shop window. “I fear I treated the two of you terribly when we were children. What a fool I was, now that I see the breathtaking ladies you have become.”
“Indeed.” Merry refused to grant him the least bit of mercy. If not for the memories of how infuriating he had been, she might even consider him handsome with his sandy-blond hair and chiseled features. He wasn’t quite as tall and broad-shouldered as Chance, but there was nothing paunchy or soft about him. But still—once an irritating scapegrace, always an irritating scapegrace.
Brixham appeared to take her attitude as a challenge, his appreciative smile turning almost predatory. “Ah, now, Lady Merry. You know you were always my favorite.”
“Your favorite to torment, as I remember.”
He laughed. Serendipity gasped, and Chance cringed and hung his head.
“AsIremember,” the viscount said, “you repaid me doubly so by filling my clothes with stinging nettles while your brother and I were swimming.” He snorted in amusement. “How did you manage it without getting covered in the same welts that covered me?”
“It would be imprudent for me to reveal my secrets.” She wasn’t about to admit to nicking Mama’s long opera gloves to protect herself from the vicious plants. All the sisters had been collectively punished, losing their desserts for a week, since none of them would share the identity of the true thief. The sisters always stuck together when it came to Chance and his irritating friends.
“Brixham has agreed to join us for dinner,” Chance said, his tone overly bright—a distinct signal that he wished Merry to be more compliant and friendly.
The veryidea. She almost snorted aloud. Angling toward the doorway, she adopted the nearest thing to a smile that she could manage. “I shall let Cook know that, even though we have only just arrived and are still quite engrossed in reopening the house, we are blessed with a guest for dinner.”
“Merry!” Serendipity and Chance scolded in unison.
“Do forgive my sister’s rudeness,” Chance told Brixham.
Again, the viscount threw back his head and laughed. “Nothing to forgive, old man. I enjoy her fire.”
“I shall accompany you to speak with Cook.” Serendipity shooed Merry out of the room and closed the door behind her. “What is wrong with you? I have never seen you so impolite.”
“I do not like him. Never have.” Merry marched down the hallway, plotting to fall ill with a most treacherous headache to escape joining them for dinner. She touched her temples and feigned what she hoped was a convincing wince.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Serendipity said. “The only way you will miss dinner with our unexpected guest is if you die.”
“You are such a troll.”
“Maybe so, but I do not much care for him either. Nor do I trust him.” Serendipity cast a glance back down the hall toward the library. “When they were younger, Chance followed the viscount’s lead into some very unacceptable situations that nearly caused Papa to chain him to his bedpost. I know Chance has matured greatly over the years, but I still fear he might be led astray.”
“Should we warn Chance’s valet so he can watch him? You know old Froggie would be more than happy to keep us apprised of anything that might harm Chance or the family’s reputation.”
“Frogsden,” Serendipity said, stressing the valet’s real name, “could prove to be a most valuable resource. I shall have Fipps speak with him immediately.”
As they entered the kitchen, Cook, the scullery maids, and scullion boys stilled in their efforts to set the place right, since the family had not been in residence for several months and the home had only been used to provide for the few servants in-house.
“Can we be helpin’ you, my lady?” Cook toddled toward them while wiping the sweat from her brow.
“It appears we are being burdened with a guest for dinner,” Merry told them. “I am sorry. But Chance already told Lord Brixham hecould stay.” She thought about asking Cook to be certain to mix enough rhubarb root into Brixham’s food to give him a roaring case of the wild squirts, but decided against it. Knowing that fool, he would use that as an excuse to spend the night rather than leave the dinner table early. “Make something unpleasant so he’ll not be tempted to return.”
“Merry!” Serendipity glared at her while the kitchen servants struggled not to laugh. She cleared her throat and turned back to Cook. “Please prepare whatever is easiest. I am certain it will be delicious. Your food never disappoints.”
Cook nodded. “Consider it done, my lady.”
Seri pointed at Merry, then at the door. “Now to find Fipps, and then we must see the modiste about gowns for the Valentine ball.”
Allowing herself a disgruntled groan, Merry led the way down the hallway. “I have a wardrobe overflowing with gowns that will do quite nicely, thank you.”
“You have already been seen in those gowns.”
“We just returned from the country. We haven’t been back to Town since before the holidays. Who has seen me?”
