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Samantha turned fully to face her, so the girl could more easily read her lips by the light of the carriage lamp. “It will be fine, I promise. Just have fun.”
When the coach pulled to a stop, Felicity lifted her eyebrows and tapped both thumbs to her chest.Ready?
“I am absolutely ready,” Samantha stoutly replied.
If she could face down armed thugs and usually get the better of them, then she could survive a night with Lord Beath. And she now had the support of the Kendricks. Samantha was no longer alone in her battles, thanks to Braden. From the beginning, he’d taken up the role of champion before she’d even known he was doing it. Before she’d even known she needed one.
The door opened and one of the Kendrick footmen unfolded the steps and helped them out of the carriage.
She and Felicity paused on the sidewalk, gazing up at the Kendricks’ mansion. Up close it was the picture of quiet and expensive elegance. With its four wide bays, it was the largest townhouse in the row and had splendid views over Old Town below.
A sense of unease rustled in her chest. While she knew the Kendricks were wealthy and powerful, she’d never stared it directly in the face before. Samantha had married into money and power, and even with Roger’s help she had to struggle to fit in. Just a girl from the Highlands, she’d never wished for money, power, or the pressures of aristocratic life. And yet here she was, teetering on the verge of a decision that would catapult her into the ranks of one of the greatest families in the land.
The door flew open, and Donella appeared at the top of the steps.
“Why are you and Felicity lurking about on the pavement like a pair of footpads?” she asked in a humorous tone. “The neighbors are already convinced we’re a houseful of loonies. You’ll give them ideas if you don’t come in.”
Samantha’s momentary panic evaporated like smoke. However wealthy and powerful they might be, there was nothingfancyabout the Kendricks. And that suited her just fine.
She took Felicity’s hand and went up the steps. “We were taking a moment to admire your lovely house. Felicity and I are rather country mice, you know. We’re not used to such magnificence.”
Donella hugged them both. “The Kendricks never do anything on a small scale. Of course, we need all this room, or we’d probably murder each other.”
Samantha laughed. “That is a very practical approach to the situation.”
As Macklin took their wraps, Samantha cast a discrete glance around the entrance hall, an impressive space with a gilt-painted ceiling above a black-and-white marble floor. Clearly, no expense had been spared in constructing the house, which should please Felicity’s grandfather. Nothing impressed him more than displays of elegance and wealth.
“Has Lord Beath arrived?” she asked Donella.
“Not yet.”
“Oh, good. What about John and Bathsheba? Felicity enjoys spending time with John, particularly. Perhaps they could find a quiet spot by the fire to have a chat.”
She was hoping to keep Felicity well out of Beath’s way for most of the evening.
Donella’s eyes lit with understanding. “Yes, they’re already here. And you’re not to worry. There will be plenty of activities for the children, and we’ve planned a full campaign to keep Lord Beath occupied. You and Felicity are to enjoy yourselves and leave the rest to us.”
Easier said than done, when it came to Beath.
Felicity touched her arm, looking concerned.
Samantha gave her a reassuring smile. “Everything is fine.”
Donella turned to the girl. “You look lovely, Felicity. Your dress is beautiful.”
Felicity gave her a shy smile. She touched two fingers to her lips and mouthedthank you.
The girl did look charming in a white muslin dress with lace trim on the sleeves and hem and a pink sash around the waist. Her glossy curls were simply coiffed, with an adornment of pink satin ribbons, and she wore a simple cross of gold around her neck. Even ever critical Beath shouldn’t be able to find fault with his granddaughter’s appearance.
“You look lovely too, Samantha,” Donella added.
“I’m not a patch on you,” she replied, casting an appreciative eye over her hostess.
Donella’s hunter-green velvet gown, trimmed in Kendrick plaid, set off her vibrant auburn hair and creamy skin. She looked beautiful and festive, and Samantha felt rather underdressed by comparison. But she’d chosen to err on the side of caution, donning a dove-gray silk gown with a minimum of lace and trimmings. Suitable for a widow in half-mourning, the dress should also satisfy Beath.
“Neither of us is a patch on Bathsheba,” Donella replied. “I’m afraid she’ll give Lord Beath a heart attack.”
“Hmm,” Samantha said with a mock frown. “For some reason, his lordship seems to find Bathsheba very appealing. I’m not sure why.”
