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Sniffling, Annabel slowly withdrew from her sister’s embrace. “Can we return to Clarenmore now?”
Lenora nodded, and side by side, they made their way back home.
9
Christmas Eve at Clarenmore
“Belfort!” Ezra’s voice echoedthrough the drafty house, stirring up a series of squeaks from a nearby wall that he pretended not to hear as he marched out of the drawing room and into the foyer. His butler had arrived late in the morning, as scheduled, but now it was an hour before the dinner party, and the servant was nowhere to be found. “Belfort, damnit, where are you?”
“Here, my lord.” Materializing out of thin air (in the way that only stodgy butlers and children that wanted something could), Belfort stood with his hands formally clasped behind him and his gaze on the rickety deathtrap of a bannister. “What service do you require?”
A torch, Ezra thought sourly,so I can do this collection of rotting matchsticks a favor and put it out of its misery.
“I need something.” Hands on his hips, he began to pace back and forth, taking care to avoid the giant hole in the middle of the floor.Good Lord, but this place really was a mess. A mess that paled in comparison to what awaited him at Clarenmore Park.Which was why he wanted to go in armed to the teeth, and do his best not to leave anything to chance.
He would be his most charming, most well-behaved self. By the end of the evening, the Rosewoods–Annabel in particular–would be eating out of the palm of his hand. At the very least, he’d settle for not being escorted out the front door by gunpoint.
“Could you be more specific, my lord?”
“A gift,” Ezra snapped. “I need a gift. I am attending a dinner party tonight–save your shock, Belfort, it’s not becoming–and I require a gift that will impress the hostess and cast me in a favorable light. A duchess, to be precise. I need a gift that will impress and win me the favor of a duchess. The Duchess of Monmouth, to be precise.”
“Is this a duchess that you intend to…”
Ezra swung around and glared at his butler. “She’s married, Belfort! To theDukeof Monmouth. I’m not planning on having an affair with her, if that’s what you’re not saying.”
“It hasn’t stopped you before,” the astute servant said mildly.
“It’s not her I’m interested in. I–” he stopped himself short and scowled. “I just need a gift, Belfort. Or an ideafora gift. You’re a responsible, mature adult who also happens to be a man.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“What would you bring to a dinner party?”
The butler thought about it for a moment. “Spoons.”
“Spoons?” Ezra threw up his arms. “This isn’t a joke, Belfort. Did you already forget the part where I said she is a duchess? I don’t think we’ll be cupping the soup with our hands. They already have bloody spoons.” He paused. “Dowehave spoons?”
The butler’s expression remained blank. “In the village, there is a silversmith shop. In the shop, there is a collection of sterling silver decorative spoons with Christmas scenes carved into the handles. I believe a set of six would make a fine gift for any duchess.”
“That’s…that’s not a terrible idea,” he said gruffly.
“Thank you, my lord. Should I fetch them for you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get the spoons.”
“As you wish. If I may speak freely, my lord…”
“Oh, go ahead, Belfort. We both know you’re going to do it anyway. Just make the cut a clean one. I don’t want to bleed all over these beautiful floorboards.”
The corner of the butler’s mouth gave the slightest betraying twitch. “Your parents would be pleased to know that you are attending a formal dinner party on Christmas Eve, my lord, and cared enough about your invitation to ensure that you make a good impression upon your hostess. Dare I say, it is behavior befitting of an earl.”
Ezra stared suspiciously at the servant. “Did you just insult me, Belfort?”
“A compliment, my lord. I have paid you a compliment. Mayhap if you had received more of them growing up, you’d not be filled with the obsessive and unhealthy compulsion to earn your family’s eternal disappointment so that you can avoid the pain of attempting to earn their favor by performing a good deed and never being acknowledged for it.”
“Bloodyhell, Belfort.”
“Is there anything else you require, my lord?” the butler asked pleasantly, as if he’d not just taken a knife, stabbed Ezra in the stomach with it, and twisted.
