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“Which is in very poor taste when one considers it.” Bernadette was truly a matron in the making. Arthur reached out to tickle her and was treated to reluctant giggles.
“We did not like it there,” Tarben chattered on. “We were to be seen and not heard. And then when we went to my other aunt’s, she did not even want to see us.”
“I did not like the beds there,” Bernadette added.
“And then at theotherother aunt’s—”
“She was not our true aunt,” Bernadette cut across him. “She was a cousin of mum’s.”
“But we called her aunt.” Tarben’s voice was rising.
“Only because we could not call her cousin. She was a relic,” his sister answered, matching his volume.
“Children,” Charlotte scolded. They stopped bickering at one word from their mother. “What in the world!”
“We were telling Aunt Beezy about the giraffe and the meanest aunt,” Bernadette said.
“It was agiraffegiraffe,” Ben explained as he entered carrying two hammers and a bucket of nails. “Not our sort, should you fear as much.”
“And then I was going to say about that time we left in the night,” Tarben said. “Oh, Aunt Beezy, it was like out of a story of poor wee children escaping an evil sorcerer!”
Madam stilled, and Arthur looked at his brother. How long had they been drifting? And under what circumstances would they need to leave under the cover of night?
“I shall tell Aunt Beezy all about it, but first we must greet what appears to be the contingent from Lowell Hall.” Charlotte’s voice was light, if her expression was clouded. The children ran out to see.
Madam rose. “If I may have your attention.” Everyone in the room turned to her without hesitation. How flawlessly she did this, this managing and organizing and commanding respect. “Upon leaving my room this morning, I came upon a dead creature,” she began. The way her gaze passed over Glynis and Ciara encouraged them to infer it was a mouse. “I suspect it is the cat doing what cats do, but I prefer steps be taken to prevent this in future.” She waited for the nods of agreement that followed her order as naturally as night followed day. “Now. Come, let us see what the duke and duchess have sent us, shall we?”
The women shared a hand squeeze as Madam passed Charlotte. Ben led out Todd along with the kitchen staff; as was the case of late, Arthur found he must follow.
***
A cavalcade of carriages and carts rolled up the drive, the Lowell insignia polished to a shine on every conveyance down to the lowly donkey cart. The drivers brought their teams to a halt, and the doors to the vehicles opened simultaneously. Beatrice could feel Osborn’s eyes rolling at the demonstration. She thought her heart was going to burst with delight.
No fewer than fifteen men decanted from the carriages, not counting the outriders who joined them as they lined up before her. They ranged from her not-great height to somewhat shorter than Ben. None looked in ill health or in any way deserving of the termrunt. They stood at attention and vibrated with readiness. She had written to ask for ten and in return received twenty-five, dressed soberly in dark olive and gray, in livery style but not that of the Lowell holding.
How clever of the duchess, dressing them as though she did not expect them to return.
A thunderous growling rumbled behind her, and she turned to see both Osborn and Ben step forward to scent the air.
“What is it?” she asked even as the duke took her in his arms from behind and turned her away from the footmen. Charlotte widened her eyes at them and then wrapped her arms around herself.
“I expect you have discerned the scent signature of the Duke of Llewellyn.” A barrel-chested footman stepped forward. He was on the shorter end of the spectrum and boasted parallel stripes of white in his ink-black hair. “Your Graces, I assure you he is not here,” he continued after he proffered the usual obeisance.
“He had better not be,” Osborn spat. “I cannot have one of his sort running loose on my land. Nor near the duchess.”
“How is it you can scent him if he is not here?” Beatrice tried to wriggle out of the duke’s grasp, which resulted in her bum wiggling against him, which created an immediate and unexpected tautness in his falls. It called to mind moments from more than one improper turn around the floor at Almack’s, before a patroness could descend to put paid to the unacceptable proximity. She maneuvered again and found herself clutched closer and thrust away and then pulled closer still.
“He is one of the highest predators of our kind,” Ben snarled, matching his brother’s tone, “and as such his signature is strong.”
“He is in residence on Lowell lands,” the footman reported. “There is a letter from our Alpha explaining the state of things regarding the Duke of Llewelyn’s circumstances, as well as ours.” He handed the missive to Conlon, whose confusion over whether to hand it to His or Her Grace was solved by Ben’s taking it. “I am Brosnyn, head footman of this complement, who are entirely at your disposal.”
“More fine men to dispose of.” Arthur relaxed his hold, and Beatrice gave one more wiggle before stepping around to stand before him.
“On behalf of His Grace, you are very welcome to Arcadia,” she said as they gave their obeisance as one. “Brosnyn, Mr. Conlon is butler here, and I will require you to convene with him in all things. This is Mr. Todd.” She indicated the prince’s factotum. The company assessed him with more than one nose aloft; he returned the favor. “He is here at His Highness, the prince regent’s, behest. Mr. Brosnyn, should you or the men have any queries, do direct them to Mr. Todd or me.
“His Grace and I,” she continued, “are grateful to the Duke and Duchess of Lowell for sending you here and hope you will find true fulfillment for your talents in Arcadia.”
“Where we are going to accommodate these souls is as good a question as any,” Osborn groused.
