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Blythe’s traveling companion turned his shaggy head, catching sight of Romy and Theo observing him. The tomcat analogy was an apt one, for Romy had only ever seen a cat possessing eyes of that color. The mossy green was evident even from the distance separating him from their coach. The ends of his hair, the same color as the horses pulling Blythe’s coach trailed along his collar and teased at his shoulders. He gave them a short, mocking bow, before striding up the steps and into The Barrow.
“Haven,” Theo said with certainty. “Completely disreputable.”
“Have you met him before?” It seemed unlikely, but perhaps he’d been with Blythe in the park.
“No. But Rosalind knows all about him. She thinks Haven quite handsome, though he’s poor as a church mouse. His father gambled away everything that wasn’t entailed. Cousin Winnie has warned her away from him. He’s a marquess prone to dueling and gambling, himself.”
“Well, that explains the state of his coat and condition of his boots. The impoverished part, I mean.”
Her sister shook her head. “Must everyone be reduced to nothing more than the sum of their clothing?”
“I notice such things. I can’t help it.”
As she and Theo exited the coach and entered the house, a thin, angular man rushed forward, twin puffs of white hair on either side of his otherwise bald pate. His mustache twitched at them in consternation. “Greetings. I am Owens, His Grace’s butler. Welcome to The Barrow. You must be Lady Richardson’s cousins?”
“Lady Andromeda Barrington and Lady Theodosia Barrington.” Romy inclined her head, smiling at the harried butler.
Theo walked away from her, attempting to sneak down the hall, perhaps in an attempt to catch another glimpse of Blythe. “Theo,” she hissed to her sister, waving for her to return.
“My apologies that you’ve not been greeted properly.” The butler’s mustache twitched like a small mouse sensing danger. The last word ended on a slight tremble.
The butler was obviously nervous, desperate to ensure Romy and Theo weren’t displeased. It spoke volumes about the way Granby treated his staff.
“The other guests are on the terrace enjoying—” Owens started to say.
“You’ve greeted usquiteproperly, Mr. Owens. I’ll make sure Lady Molsin is well aware. Our delay in arrival is entirely my fault. I hope I didn’t cause undue worry.”
Romy had insisted on stopping at Madame Dupree’s before leaving to drop off a series of sketches she’d just finished for Miss Hobarth. Cousin Winnie was probably beside herself with worry. “Can you have one of the footmen,” she gestured to a stoic looking youth hovering by the door, “apprise Lady Richardson of our arrival?”
“Immediately, my lady. I shall do so myself. Your rooms have been prepared.” He waved forward a maid. “I assume you would like to refresh yourselves after your journey before joining the other guests? Sara can show you to your rooms. I’ll ensure your servants are settled.”
“Yes, thank you, Owens.”
The butler nodded, cheeks pinking as she addressed him by name.
Everyone, no matter their station, deserved to be treated with respect and recognized for their contributions. Romy’s mother insisted all the Barrington servants be treated politely and addressed by name.
Romy held tightly to her sister’s sleeve. “Come, Theo.” They were both dusty and in need of a change of clothes.
“When you are ready, my lady, a servant will show you to the terrace where the other guests are gathered. You are not the only late arrivals,” he added.
“Splendid.” Romy dragged Theo up the stairs. “Thank you again, Owens.”
