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Althea opened the door and got smacked on the shoulder with a pebble. “Ouch.”
“Good evening, my lady.” The voice rumbled softly from deep shadows below the balcony. “Might you be interested in a game of cribbage?”
Althea had thought much on her previous encounter with Rothhaven and had decided she’d been a fool. The duke had the right of it: Never beg, and especially don’t beg eccentric neighbors who refuse to aid a damsel asking for a bit of social guidance.
“Rothhaven, I employ both a butler and a night porter. Have you a reason for eschewing the front door?”
The privet hedge rustled. “Piquet or chess. Choose, or I’ll disappear back from whence I came.”
Never to be seen again.He needn’t say the words for Althea to infer them. “In a puff of black smoke no doubt. I choose cribbage. Best of three hands.”
He vaulted onto the balcony more lightly than Septimus leaping onto the chaise. “If you’re subjecting me to cribbage, then I’ll have another wheel of that cheese for my trouble.”
No scent of horse or leather clung to him, meaning he’d come on foot. “Did you travel the lanes looking for stray children to snack on, Your Grace?”
“I traveled the fields and half-ruined my boots. I have a suggestion. Rather than remove to more commodious surrounds, let’s stand out here half the night waiting for lung fever to overtake us.”
“You disdain to use the front door, but expect the hospitality of my private sitting room at an hour bordering on indecent. And women are supposed to be the gender in want of rational processes.” She returned to the parlor, a room small enough to be kept cozy on even frigid nights.
Rothhaven followed her and crossed to the fire, unbuttoning his greatcoat. “Will we be disturbed?”
“I am expecting the ghost of the first Viscount Lynley to walk in the next hour or so. Perhaps you and he are acquainted. The viscount was famous for riding the shire at all hours too, though his inspiration was the fine ale brewed by the local publican’s daughters.”
“I am not troubled by the company of ghosts, my lady. Gossiping servants are another matter entirely.”
Oh.Oh.“You are concerned for my reputation should we be discovered debauching at the card table.”
He draped his coat over the back of Althea’s reading chair and commenced a circuit of the parlor. “Even a man of my prodigious imagination is stymied by the notion of debauching over a hand of cribbage. Nonetheless, you are an unmarried female, and I am a similarly unencumbered gentleman. Conclusions will be drawn if we are found alone together after dark, and your campaign to land a bachelor will be over before it begins.”
He paused before a sketch Constance had done of Quinn. Both Constance and Cousin Duncan enjoyed significant artistic talent, while Stephen was a prodigy with mechanics. Quinn could make money multiply with a snap of fingers.
While I can age a good cheese and hold conversations with my cat.“If you think my brother would force you to marry me, you need not worry. Quinn isn’t that sort. Brandy?”
“Please.”
With Rothhaven inspecting the appointments, Althea wished she’d thought to bring a shawl with her to the parlor. She wanted to cover herself against a slight chill, for the sake of both modesty and comfort. He examined each frame on the wall, drew the curtains over every window, and peered closely at her bookshelves.
She poured two brandies and handed him one. “Will you open the drawers of my writing desk next, Your Grace?”
He passed the brandy under his nose. “When you are shown into a guest parlor, how do you comport yourself?”
“Civilly. One sits and either accepts or declines a cup of tea, and hopes the tea cakes aren’t stale.” Which they all too often were.
“How does an obedient child behave upon entering the schoolroom?”
Althea had never been a child in a schoolroom, but she took his point: Walk in quietly, sit at the indicated desk, remain in the appointed chair until given leave to stand. Expect a rebuke for wandering about the room or showing undue interest in anything but the day’s lesson.
“Isn’t it rude to peer at my every sketch and sniff my brandy?”
“Why do people display art on the walls if it’s not to be admired? Why is the nose considered the most delicate aspect of any high-quality spirit? You never did answer my question: Will we be disturbed by a chambermaid bringing up a last bucket of coal?”
“We will not.” Althea took a sip of her brandy. “Shall we to the cards?”
“Not yet, my lady. If you’re determined to ignore propriety to the point that you drink spirits, then at least drink them properly. This is excellent brandy and it deserves proper respect.”
So do I.Though to be fair, Rothhaven had already passed along a useful insight: Don’t sit if, where, and when you’re bid to sit, like a child in the schoolroom, always in fear of a birching. Wander and investigate like a predator beginning the evening’s hunt.
“How does one respectfully drink brandy, Your Grace?”
