Page 38 of Yielding to Love

“I’ve taken a room at the inn—”

“Oh, no! You must stay with us. Neville would insist.”

Neville echoed, gravel-voiced, “I do insist.” She started, embarrassed that he’d been listening, even though they had said nothing private. He said, “It is good to see you, Major. What brings you?”

“Business in London. It’s not far, so I thought…”

Neville harumphed. “It isn’t close.”

“We used to march this far in a day,” the major pointed out. “And I have a very fast horse.”

Neville shifted in his chair and grunted. “True, true. But you needn’t march back into the village tonight. Since you are here, you’ll stay for dinner. And we’ve had the pianoforte tuned, so I imagine you’ll want to hear Camellia play.”

“Neville, you do recall the Castors are coming to dine with us?” She’d already told her brother she was not going to play for them.

Neville scowled. “Damn. They are.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” The major looked a bit panicked.

“You are not,” Neville said. “You’ll make the evening bearable. Castor is a bore.”

Camellia rose from the major’s side. “I’ll leave it to Neville to persuade you. Although, Neville, telling him his dinner companions will be boring might not be the best strategy.” Major Taverston’s lips curved into a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go have a word with Mrs. Clay about the menu. And see to the guest room. Mr. Diakos will likely be along soon, but if he is not, Major, would you bring Neville in if he wants?”

“Yes, of course.”

She stepped away, hearing Neville behind her speaking in a loud, excited voice.

“What the devil do you think the duke is doing? All I hear is he is squiring La Grassini about and antagonizing the French citizenry.”

“The French are easily antagonized. And unfortunately, there are both Bonapartists and Bourbonists in the city who don’t take kindly to occupation by a conquering army—”

She didn’t hear the rest. But how could there still be Bonapartists in France after all the devilment the man had caused? And shouldn’t the Bourbons be grateful?

*

She spoke with Mrs. Clay to ensure there would be rice and peas for the major, and some of Mrs. Faraday’s goat cheese. This was the best she could do on short notice, but at least he would know that she tried. Then she took a pitcher of water up to the guest chamber and set it beside the wash basin on the bed table. She opened the windows to air the room. Fluffed the pillows. She couldn’t think of anything else to do to make him feel welcome.

She went into her own room, debating whether to change clothes for supper. Her red-plaid gown was finer, but donning it felt too obvious. The major had complimented the yellow. She didn’t want to appear to be seeking more praise.

From her chamber, she could not hear what was happening below, so she went down to the receiving room. It was not the jumble of furniture Major Taverston would remember. With Mr. Diakos’s help, she had removed a few of the excess chairs and tables. She’d moved two tea tables together into one corner, with the rest of the furniture directed away from it, to carve out a space for a dining area. It was a little thing, but it made her feel better. More settled.

She heard the back door to the kitchen open, and men’s laughter. When he was most amused, Major Taverston had a whooping laugh that caused everyone in earshot to laugh along. Even here, in the next room, she found herself snorting and wondering what the joke was.

The men spilled out of the kitchen into the hallway. Camellia went to greet them. She smiled to see the major carrying a valise, which meant, despite his protests, he’d come prepared to spend the night. Mr. Diakos pushed Neville’s chair.

“If I may,” the major said, “I will go change. I fear I smell of horse.”

He didn’t, but Camellia thought better of announcing she’d enjoyed his scent.

“I should clean up as well,” Neville said.

Mr. Diakos nodded and wheeled him off to his chamber. That left Camellia in the receiving room to await the Castors. They arrived before Neville or the major returned. She welcomed them with false good humor, and they made awkward conversation while the Castors shot disdainful glances around the room.

Mr. Castor wore a somber black jacket and trousers, appropriate to his calling, but had a diamond pin in his cravat. It was known in the parish that he liked to think he cut a fine figure. However, he was nearly bald and had a large wart on his chin, so jewelry didn’t help. Mrs. Castor was jowly with small eyes and a mean smile. Camellia wanted to feel sorry for her, married to Mr. Castor, but the woman acted so superior it was impossible.

Just as Mr. Diakos was bringing Neville in, Mr. Castor said, “I don’t understand why you mutilated this house.”

“Don’t you?” Neville asked.