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She stood up straight and walked in. By the fireplace two couples dressed in the height of fashion were talking animatedly to Adam, who turned at her entrance. His jaw dropped, just slightly, and she smiled, realising that with her hair up, her pearls glistening with expensive restraint and her one remaining respectable morning dress on she looked every inch a lady and not like the hoyden who had been rolling in the snow or grooming horses.
She turned to Pru. ‘You may take your breakfast with Mrs Chitty this morning, Staples.’
‘Very good, Miss Ross.’ Pru dropped a starchy curtsy and followed it with an inclination of her head towards Adam. ‘Good morning, your lordship.’
Her exit seemed to bring Adam to his senses. ‘Miss Ross, please allow me to introduce you to my friends. My cousin, Lady Wendover, and her husband, Lord Wendover.’ A lively-looking lady of about five and twenty with an older husband with a grave expression and amused eyes. ‘Mr and Mrs Highton.’ A slightly older couple, beautifully dressed and she with languorous blue eyes. ‘This is Miss Ross, who has been snowed up here and must be delighted to see some new faces after three days of boredom.’
‘Not at all, my lord. I am delighted to meet your friends, of course, but I have been far from bored.’ Decima smiled her thanks to Mr Highton, who pulled out a chair for her. ‘You and Mrs Chitty have looked after us admirably.’ She looked round at the others as they took their places. ‘My only refuge until Lord Weston came to my aid was a most disreputable alehouse. You may imagine my relief at finding shelter here. Were you snowed up, too?’
Conversation flowed easily. It seemed Adam’s guests had reached Grantham before they wisely decided to go no further than a comfortable inn and had set out early that morning. ‘We were looking forward to Mrs Chitty’s cooking,’ Lord Wendover remarked, helping himself lavishly from the platter of ham, eggs and sliced sausage the footman presented.
‘Indeed, yes,’ Decima agreed. ‘It is excellent, is it not?’ This was all right, she could manage. They were too polite to stare at her height, in such a small group they could not whisper about her gawky plainness, and best of all, none of them were trying to marry her off.
After the meal she got to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, I think I should go and oversee my packing. I imagine my carriage should be here shortly.’
Pru was already upstairs, but, although the portmanteaux were out and open and several drawers had already been emptied onto the bed, there was no sign of her, only the sound of all-too-familiar bickering from the room across the landing.
‘Pru!’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Pru positively flounced out of Bates’s room and into her own. ‘That man!’
‘I see you have started the packing.’
‘Yes, Miss Dessy.’
‘Then shall we finish before the postilions arrive?’ she suggested briskly.
At last, leaving Pru to organise William the footman into carrying down the bags, she went to rejoin the guests. It would seem odd to avoid doing so any longer. Voices led her towards the drawing room and she slipped in unnoticed, taking a chair by the door. The others were all grouped facing towards the fireplace with its cheerful blaze, and seemed to be engaged in ragging Adam.
‘So, was Sally as intent on finding you a bride as you feared, Adam?’ Lady Wendover asked with teasing laughter in her voice.
‘She was indeed, although I was completely lulled at first,’ Adam answered ruefully. ‘I was in the house for two days and there was not the hint of danger. No ingenuous young houseguest, no visiting bluestocking, no intimate parties threatened. I had let down my guard and then, out of the blue, the casual announcement that we were to expect a visit from some neighbours.’
‘Who proved to be accompanied by whom? An unmarried daughter? A plain niece?’ Mrs Highton enquired, much amused.
‘No, worse.’ Adam shuddered. ‘An unmarried, middle-aged sister. A lady, I was assured, of fortune and possessed of intelligence and amiability. I took to my heels before they arrived and ended up in a snowdrift for my pains.’
‘Oh, Lord!’ Mrs Highton produced a trill of knowing laughter. ‘A plain Jane, in other words. What was Sally thinking of? She must know what a high stickler you are.’
The shocked anger burned through Decima’s veins. How could he? How could Adam joke with them about it? Oh, no names had been said, of course, he was too much the gentleman for that. Somewhere there was another woman, just like her, breathing a sigh of relief because her unwanted ‘suitor’ had fled. And no doubt she was having to endure her relatives’ endless lamentations that another ‘opportunity’ had been missed.
She heard the sound of her own voice sounding coolly amused. ‘I should imagine she was thinking—like so many matchmakers think when they meddle in their single friends’ lives—that she was doing it for the sake of the people concerned, when in fact it is something that neither party would want.’
The five people around the fire turned as one to gaze at her in surprise. As well they might, she realised in horror. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew how rude she was being about Adam’s sister.
Adam’s face went blank, but Lady Wendover recovered herself with a laugh. ‘You are too severe, Miss Ross. Surely a sister must be concerned for her brother’s welfare?’
‘And this can be achieved by trying to fob an unwilling lady off on him? I am sure Lord Weston is more than capable of finding himself an entirely eligible bride, when he wishes to do so.’ She had already unforgivably accused his sister of meddling, she might as well face this out and say what she thought for once.
‘Well, I agree Adam might be unwilling to be party to such a thing, but surely not the lady? Presumably she is at her last prayers,’ Lord Wendover observed.
‘Is the married state so desirable that the humiliation of being paraded around by one’s relatives is a price worth paying to achieve it? It is nothing but a mortification for the lady concerned and a source of discomfort to any man of sensibility. And, in fact, I am sure many men who remain bachelors for perfectly sound reasons of their own also suffer this sort of interference.’ She was in full flow now, her new, strong inner voice carrying her along in the face of their surprise.
‘You do not approve of matchmakers, then, Miss Ross?’ Mr Highton enquired.
‘I despise matchmakers,’ she said roundly, then caught sight of Adam’s frozen expression. She had gone too far. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Weston, if I have spoken disrespectfully of your sister. I am sure her motives are purely those of family affection.’ The lady probably could not help herself, any more than Hermione could; it seemed that, once married, any female was immediately seized with the urge to see her entire acquaintance paired off.
Adam grimaced, apparently unoffended. ‘Sally is certainly motivated by a strong concern for my interests. Unfortunately she does not take my views of what those are into account one jot. As for the lady in this case, probably Sally can imagine no greater felicity than being married to me and would be incredulous to learn she might not wish for such a meeting.’
