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It was late afternoon by the time Ashe's carriage rounded the drive at Farrington Manor.
He realized it was probably too late in the day for callers, but he needed to see Noelle—partly to reassure himself that all was well, partly because he'd missed her like hell.
He knew it wasn't the time for grand declarations of love. He hadn't the right yet—not with the terms of their future still undefined and their opportunity for privacy unlikely.
In truth, Ashford mused as he alighted from his carriage, Eric Bromleigh would be less than pleased by the improper timing of this visit. Not only was the hour late, but the visit was unplanned. Ashford wasn't expected until tomorrow morning, right before Sardo arrived to conduct Noelle's portrait sitting.
On the other hand, Ashford countered silently to himself, since his frank discussion with the Bromleighs on the night of the ball, Eric's disapproval had mellowed into grudging acceptance. So perhaps he wouldn't be too irritated by the impromptu visit.
There was only one way to find out.
Bladewell opened the door at Ashford's knock, peering outside to see the identity of their caller. His reaction, however, was the utter antithesis of what Ashford had expected. Rather than put off, the butler looked utterly relieved to see who was on their doorstep.
"Lord Tremlett. Please come in." He moved aside, gesturing for Ashford to enter. "The earl has been trying to locate you all day."
In the process of crossing the threshold, Ashford stiffened. "Why? Is something wrong?"
An unconvincing pause. "Not to my knowledge, sir. All I know is that Lord Farrington is extremely anxious to see you. He's sent messages to your Southampton home, your London Town house, even to your parents' estate."
Now Ashford was really becoming alarmed. "Where is the earl now?"
"In his study," Bladewell replied. "I'll advise him you're here."
"Wait." Ashford stayed him with his hand. "Where is the rest of the family?"
The butler inclined his head in surprise. "Why, I believe the countess is in the study with her husband, sir. And Lady Chloe is hovering outside the blue salon, awaiting Lady Noelle's emergence."
Ashford wanted desperately to ask more questions, but he knew that to do so would be unproductive, not to mention totally unfair to Bladewell. The wisest course of action would be to let the poor butler announce his arrival to Lord Farrington. Then he could get the answers he sought directly from Eric.
But one thing was for sure: something wasn't right.
He was more convinced than ever when, mere seconds after Bladewell disappeared into the study, Eric himself strode out, stalking past the butler to reach Ashford's side, his expression taut with worry. "Where have you been?"
"I wasn't due until tomorrow." Ashford's eyes narrowed. "What's happened?"
Eric glanced uneasily over his shoulder. "Come with me. It's probably best you aren't seen."
"Seen? By whom?"
"Sardo."
"Sardo?" Ashford ground out the name, clenching his teeth to stifle his exclamation of surprise. Rigid with purpose, he followed Eric's lead, remaining silent as they hastened down the hall and entered the study.
Brigitte glanced up, relief sweeping her features when she saw who was with her husband. "I'm glad you're here, Lord Tremlett."
"Countess." Ashford managed a civil greeting—but only barely. "What the devil is going on?" he demanded, turning to Eric. "Why is Sardo at Farrington Manor? And who's with him—besides Noelle, that is?"
"If I had my way, I'd be with them," Eric shot back. "But Noelle had other ideas."
"Are you telling me she's alone with that lowlife?"
A dark scowl. "Of course not. Do you think I'm a fool? Grace is chaperoning. I insisted. And Tempest is crouched on Noelle's lap, eyeing Sardo mistrustfully and awaiting the opportunity to spring at him. Not that I blame her." Eric began pacing the floor. "I don't like this, Tremlett. The man is virtually courting my daughter. Oh, he's doing it subtly, each gift and visit assigned a purpose so as not to offend me. And Noelle is so bloody determined to carry out this plan of hers…"
"What gifts? What visits?"
"The day after you left, a huge bouquet of wildflowers arrived—Sardo handpicked them himself—along with a note of apology for his inexcusable display of irritability at Noelle's first sitting. After that, each successive day brought with it a note, together with a drawing of Noelle—'mere recollections of her beauty,' I believe
were his words. Now, today, Sardo himself arrived just after breakfast, presumably on his way to some obscure cove in Dorsetshire to sketch the cliffs. He said he wanted to drop by to ensure that the sitting room was faring well enough for tomorrow's session—and to capture a quick profile of Noelle to include in one of his sketches."
