Page 54 of Counting on Love

“The stable,” he said. “And Lord Taverston’s is the study.”

“All right! Enough!” Lord Taverston burst out laughing. “You’ve painted me flying above my consequence and I object. Who is behind this? Crispin or Reg?”

“Olivia started it,” Reginald said.

“Bosh!” Olivia cried. “Only with Alice and Georgiana!”

“Well, who else is there?” Crispin asked. “The Duchess?”

“No!” Olivia shrieked. “Crispin, even you wouldn’t dare!”

“Lady Georgiana, Georgiana if I may,” Lord Taverston said, drawing his elbow in toward his body, pulling her closer, showing her his white teeth and dimple, “do, please, call me Jasper. And allow me to show you the portrait gallery.”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled, but a shiver ran down the back of her neck. She should have anticipated where the game would lead. Georgiana and Jasper. The courtship was progressing apace, despite yesterday’s interruptions. She would rather go backward than forward, but how was she to stop something with so much momentum?

*

Reginald felt drained. Everything worth seeing had been shown. Even his “domain.” Crispin had nudged him when Jasper caught sight of Father’s chair, but Jasper said nothing. In fact, he gave no indication he’d noticed. But, of course, he had.

The party returned to the drawing room for tea. Jasper was still holding forth, replying to a question Alice had asked. It still chafed, though it shouldn’t, the way that Jasper was acting “the Earl.”

“The reason it has such a modern feel is that a fire destroyed about three-quarters of the original house, back in my grandfather’s time.”

“How awful,” Alice said.

Jasper escorted Georgiana to a seat and finally released her. He went to stand by the mantel.

“It was terrible, of course, but grandfather was a young man with young ideas. He hired a friend as his architect and told him he wanted something modern and grand. The architect was no one with a name, just an artist with a good deal of ambition. He may have had a vision, but we’ll never know.”

“Didn’t he design Chaumbers?” Georgiana asked.

“In part. You see, he saw the commission as his chance to do something extraordinary. To make his reputation. He presented grandfather with design after design, each more whimsical than the last. The story has it that Grandfather finally flipped over one of the drawings and sketched out what he wanted. Something resembling this pile of stones, and demanded the architect give him that.”

“So your grandfather designed this?”

“It would have fallen down by now if he had,” Crispin muttered.

“I think,” Reginald put in, “Grandfather can take credit for the bay windows in the library.”

His brothers both laughed. Even Mother, who had joined them mid-explanation, seemed amused.

“Suffice it to say,” Jasper continued, “the house got built as some sort of agglomeration of the two men’s plans. After which, neither would take credit, and they were no longer friends.”

Georgiana protested politely, “But it’s a beautiful home.”

“It grows on you,” Jasper said. “At least, I hope it does.”

The room quieted. Georgiana appeared embarrassed. Reginald felt annoyed. Jasper was doing it far too brown.

“If you will sit down, Jasper, I will pour,” Mother said. “Lady Georgiana, your mother is writing a letter to the Duke and says she will not be down for tea.” She poured and Gertie distributed the cups, then biscuits.

“Has there been any word from our young invalid?” Mother asked.

“I peeked in on him earlier,” Reginald said. “He and Jeffrey were playing cards. I declined to join them.”

Crispin added, “Adam said his eyes are clearer and he is answering questions more appropriately.”

Mother gave Crispin a chilly look. “I’m not sure we need the opinion of your valet.”