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“Pardon me for interrupting once again, Your Grace.” The same footman who had brought the message regarding the post reentered the breakfast room. “But Lady Walmsley is here. She said to tell you she knows it’s too early to expect callers and you’re undoubtedly taking breakfast, but since she has taken breakfast with you on many occasions in the past, she is confident you wouldn’t mind if she arrived in such an unexpected manner and time.”
Susan laughed outright. “She’s quite right,” Susan replied. “She may join my sister and me here.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” the footman said.
“On most occasions, showing up at such an early hour would not be allowed by polite society,” Susan explained to Rebecca. “But I can’t think of a better person to join us. Aunt Margaret, as she allows me to call her, is ideally suited to go through the invitations with us, tell us which ones to accept, and help us plan our own invitation list for your come-out ball. I daresay she’ll have a thing or two to say when Madame Veronique arrives too—”
“My darling young ladies!” a familiar voice exclaimed from the doorway. “After our little excursion to Madame Veronique’s yesterday, I simply couldn’t wait to be with you again! You can ask Foster if what I say is not the truth. He was very put out that I intended to venture out so early in the day—seems to think the morning air too chilly and more conducive to my catching lung fever or some such nonsense. But I simply couldn’t remain at home even a moment longer!”
“Think nothing of it, Aunt Margaret,” Susan said, rising to her feet and crossing the room to clasp Lady Walmsley’s hands and buss her on the cheek. “We consider you family, you know. And indeed, your arrival is timely because I’ve just been informed that we’ve been inundated with invitations, and we need your experience and connections to help us decide what to do about them.” She led Lady Walmsley over to the sideboard. “But in the meantime, I’m quite certain Foster would approve of your eating a bit more breakfast with us.”
“Hmm,” Lady Walmsley said, viewing the breakfast fare still laid out on the sideboard. “He does tend to mention that I eat like a hummingbird and that I could do with a bit more meat on my bones. Rather judgmental of him, I daresay, and I have told him so on more than one occasion, I can assure you. Those sausages look a treat, don’t they?”
“Allow me to dish a plate for you,” Susan said, her eyes twinkling.
“And perhaps a few of those eggs. And the potatoes. But before I forget, Miss Rebecca Jennings, you arenotto refer to me as Lady Walmsley,” she said. “If your sister may call me Aunt Margaret, I certainly feel you can too.”
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret,” Rebecca said. “Then I am merely Rebecca.”
“There is nothing ‘merely’ about you, my dear. Now, if you’d be so kind, young man,” Rebecca’s new Aunt Margaret said, turning to address the footman, “I take my tea with milk.”
The footman hastened to pour a cup of tea for her and place it on the dining table.
“Thank you. And thankyou, Susan,” she said when Susan placed a plate full of breakfast goodies on the table next to the cup of tea. She seated herself. Susan returned to her own place at the table, and Aunt Margaret tucked into her breakfast with gusto. “Sometimes a change of menu can be so invigorating!”
What could be said after that? Rebecca nodded in agreement and took a bite of eggs.
* * *
Ben looked up from his desk at the rap on the door. “Come,” he called.
Mr. Snow entered holding the salver he usually used when delivering the mail.
“Anything of interest in the pile you have there?” Ben asked. He knew Snow sorted through it before delivering it, organizing it from what appeared most urgent to least.
“I shouldn’t presume,” Snow said.
“Oh, yes, you should,” Ben replied. “Between you and your missus and MacKay, this place runs like clockwork. I’m grateful to you all.”
“Well, I did take the liberty of sorting out those items that seemed to be something a steward would address,” Snow said. “Which is most of the mail, actually.”
“I can’t say that I’m sorry. Be sure to let MacKay know,” Ben said. Although, having something to take his mind off Rebecca would undoubtedly work to his advantage. He’d vowed that he’d put her from his thoughts; she deserved this opportunity to enjoy the Season, but blast it all if he wasn’t being dogged by a relentless sort of jealousy, knowing she was special, beautiful, and spirited and that other gentlemen would undoubtedly recognize that about her while she was in Town.
He hated that he felt jealous. He had felt jealous of Gemma and all of her suitors, both before and after their marriage. And he’d been proven right to be jealous, hadn’t he?
But he had no right to be jealous regarding Rebecca. He’d told her to go to London. Had insisted on it. She may have changed her mind and stayed here in Lincolnshire had he encouraged her. He’d gotten the impression she was unsure whether to go or stay, but he’d already felt so guilty about her injury. How could he have selfishly asked her to remain with him?
The answer was that he couldn’t. And so, he hadn’t.
Oh, but his heart yearned for her.
“There are a few items that require your personal attention,” Snow said rather tentatively.
“My apologies, Snow. I fear I was woolgathering,” Ben muttered.
“Not a problem, my lord. Mrs. Snow says I do much the same on occasion. There are four letters for you: one posted from Edinburgh, one from Winton Court, and”—he paused briefly—“two from London.”
Ben’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Snow. I’ll take those, and you can put the others on MacKay’s desk in his office.”
