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“Have you a friend perhaps, for Warrick? Someone we could introduce him to? She only need have loads of blunt, no keen interest in having any children, and not mind if he cannot take her dancing. In other words, someone exceedingly kind and exceptionally desperate…” By the time he finished, Ed looked as though he’d sucked a lemon: face puckered, nose crinkled, the hearty sigh that followed the improbable list admitting defeat before she had a chance to respond. “Let us pretend the topic as buried as Owen’s cat, shall we?”
She swatted his shoulder for that. “No one comes readily to mind, but give me time to consider. Your other friend now? Frowning Frostwood?”
He chuckled. “Do not let him hear you say that.”
“For your ears only.” She rose to her toes and kissed just below one of his. “After you left, I received another chatty letter from Harriet. She claims she has found him the perfect match.”
“Ah… Lord Redford?” Walden stepped forth. “My lady? Please forgive the interruption. I do believe we have more guests.”
A startled glance out the door they hadn’t moved away from sufficiently for anyone to shut, showed a couple approaching up the drive. The man—equipt to the nines, from his tall topper to his polished if out-of-fashion heeled shoes, well-fitted burgundy tailcoat, dark blue breeches and pale silk stockings in between—was absurdly dressed for daytime. But presented a bang-up figure indeed.
Conversely, his companion wore a light blue day dress beneath a simple cloak. The most smashing bonnet Anne had ever seen covered a shock of outrageously orange hair.
“Do you know him?” Anne asked, spying his white-knuckled grip clutched about a tied parcel as he strode up the drive, his companion’s gloved hand resting upon his opposite forearm, his fist clenched just as tight.
“Nay.” Ed tugged Anne in front of him, kept hold of her hand and whispered, “Remain by my side. Murmurings heard of late allude to nefarious goings-on in the area.”
Murmurings? Nefarious? She’d demand details later, when they were alone.
The man practically marched toward the door, a scowl upon his countenance that quite reminded her of Lord Frostwood, although this fellow was a stranger to her. His companion let her hand drift off his arm and paused several paces from the steps that he climbed; eleven, Anne knew, already having made note of every staircase in the large abode, hopeful for the time Isabella might be permitted to visit.
He came straight up to the third tread and halted.
“Greetings.” His voice, all deep gravel and hard edges, filled the empty, curious space between them.
Safety assured by the powerful man at her back, Anne assumed her duties as Lady of the Manor, the Dowager Redford now not only inhabiting the dower house, but at the moment away visiting a friend near Brighton. “You have reached Redford Manor. Is that your destination?”
The bang-up stranger with glittering eyes and a forceful demeanor one could sense a mile away glanced over his shoulder, toward the female who had accompanied him.
She aimed a bright, encouraging smile his way.
At her nod, he turned back to them and tilted his head in a bow. He brought the parcel up from his side. “Sincerest apologies.” The man swallowed as though scraping that much out was a chore. “Lord Redford?”
“Aye?”
“These belong to you, I believe.” His gaze fell to Ed’s missing hand. He nodded once. “Aye. They do.”
The moment Ed shuffled her behind him to take the proffered package, the other man spun on his heel and bounded down the stairs in a single jump. All eight of them? Anne shivered; had she seen that right?
Two more steps and he captured the hand of the woman waiting a few yards back and they disappeared into the trees part way down the long drive.
“That was peculiar.” Anne left off staring where the couple had vanished to pluck at the string secured round the parcel. “Have you any notion of what’s inside?”
But Ed was still staring after the stranger, down the now-empty drive, a thoughtful expression settling a curious frown between his brows. “Did you see his feet? I do believe that fellow is wearing my shoes.”
