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Chapter Six
Lydia had not ventured outside of London more than a few times in her life to visit family. She could barely contain her excitement, despite sharing the carriage ride with her uncle. Staring out the windows, she pointed out sites along the road. He merely nodded and grunted in response, refusing to engage in conversation. After several bumpy hours on the road, they crested a hill, the estate sprawling before them. She craned to the window, drinking in the sight of the land, bathed in sunset colors.
“Get used to it,” her uncle told her. “That will soon be your home.”
Even though she knew it would not be true, she felt butterflies rising in her stomach. As they approached the front of the manor, the staff had come out to greet her, standing in a row outside the front steps. Michael stood at the head of them all. Next to him was the young man who had attended the ball with him, as well as an older couple. She racked her brain, trying to remember his family, but could not think of their names.
When the carriage stopped, Michael stepped forward to help her out.
“Darling, so wonderful that you’ve finally arrived,” he said, holding her hand as he guided her to his family. “May I present to you my uncle and aunt, Lionel and Ranora Connor. And I’m not sure if you met at the Assembly, my cousin, Joseph Conner.”
Lydia curtsied to them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
“Uncle, Aunt, this is the Viscount of Rackliff, Francis Wenton, and my betrothed, Lady Lydia Wenton, his niece.”
Uncle Francis bowed to them politely.
“You must be tired from your journey,” Michael said. “Let me show you to your chambers. Supper will be served later this evening, I’m sure you would like to rest.”
“Indeed,” she agreed. Keeping her hand on his, she followed him up the grand steps of the manor.
She tried not to stare in awe at the vastness of the hall as they walked through the foyer and up another set of stairs. Lionel and Ranora parted ways with them, showing Francis to his accommodations, which were in another part of the manor. As their voices faded, Lydia realized that she was already alone with Michael, only minutes after arriving.
“Your Grace,” she began, her voice soft.
“I thought you would be more comfortable in this part of the manor,” he said, almost too loudly. “The rooms on this side of the house oversee the gardens. The view is impeccable.”
“And my uncle?”
Michael grinned. “Yes, the rooms on his side of the manor are close to my study and the parlor. I figured he would want to be close to other company.”
“What do you mean?”
“Easily distracted and entertained,” Michael explained, winking at her.
“Your Grace!”
“Too bold, too soon?” he asked. He stopped outside of a set of doors. “Here are your rooms. I will not be so bold as to enter them with you at this moment. If you need anything at all, please ring. I believe the housekeeper has made all the arrangements for everything you might need. I would like you to be in the utmost comfort while you are here.”
She removed her hand from his and dipped into a quick curtsy. “Thank you for your considerations, Your Grace. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”
He bowed, turning to leave her. She watched as he kept walking down the same hall, turning up a set of steps.
I’m sure the view of the gardens isn’t what he had in mind, she thought.
Opening the door to her rooms, she gasped. The suite sprawled before her, with a huge bed, covered in silks and linens. The furniture spoke of opulence and history. Realizing she truly was tired from her long journey, she threw herself down on a chaise by the window. Out of the window, she could see the gardens that the duke spoke of. Rose bushes circled a lake, where several geese were swimming. She watched them for a moment, smiling, until a footman stepped in, carrying her trunks. Behind him, a maid entered.
“May I help you, miss?” the maid asked.
Distracted from the view, she nodded, yawning. “Yes, I might rest a bit before supper.”
* * *
After a nap and changing her dress, Lydia felt refreshed by the time she came down to supper. She found everyone already down in the parlor, drinks in hand. A woman she hadn’t yet met was seated next to Joseph.
Michael rose to greet her, offering her the seat next to him on the couch. He indicated the newcomer. “My lady, this is Miss Katherine Benrow, my cousin’s fiancée. Hearing of your visit, she came to stay with us also.”
The woman nodded her head towards Lydia, with a cool smile. “Please, call me Kitty.”
