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Not as sociable as Bonnie, Harriet, Rebecca, Sam, et al.
“The Viscount is working. However, Lady Alcott would like some time with you alone, as Portia’s sister. Blood family with blood family.”
Somehow, that made sense and was an insult to Lou at the same time.
It was Jane’s house. I was her guest. I’d barely seen her and hadn’t truly exchanged a word with her, and Lou seemed incredibly uncomfortable around her.
And honestly, I was curious.
So I pulled off my gloves, saying, “Sure.”
“I’ll take your outdoor gear.”
I nodded, gave her the gloves, unwound my pink scarf, and shrugged off my pale-blue duffle.
I then moved toward the Viognier Room.
It was next to the Turquoise Room, and it was also a dining room, though much smaller and much brighter, with a beautifully varnished oval table that seated no more than eight. It would have been where I’d have my guests to dinner if I owned that house and our party was as small as it currently was.
But that was just me.
As I walked down the hall, I passed a girl I’d never seen who was even younger than all the others. She did not wear a dove-gray dress, but an outfit much like Sam’s: khaki pants and a light-blue polo. She also had yellow rubber gloves on her hands and was carrying a round pail that was stuffed full of cleaning supplies and dust cloths.
She was coming out of the Whisky Room, Richard’s office.
“Hey,” I greeted.
She dipped her chin, avoided my eyes and rushed down the hall only to stop and disappear into one of the other rooms.
Shy.
Or weird.
I decided to have a more positive outlook about everything and chose to believe she was just shy.
Lou was famous. My dad was too. Ian as well. Daniel, Richard and Jane to a lesser extent, as all people with titles tended to be. And it couldn’t be denied, in an even lesser way, I was too. I was Dad’s daughter, and I was filthy rich, so that happened.
It could be intimidating, even if you worked in a house like this.
I made it to the Viognier Room and was surprised to see the door open. They had a thing about keeping the doors closed, and I knew from my tour yesterday that was more than likely about turning off radiators and containing chill in the vast amount of space that went unused.
The Viognier Room was not chilly. The warmth seemed almost forceful as I entered to see Lady Jane already seated at the head of the table.
She stood when I arrived.
“Daphne,” she greeted in a vague way. “I’m pleased you’re joining me.”
She motioned to a chair beside her, the only open place setting.
I moved that direction, replying, “Thank you for the invitation.”
She inclined her head and returned to her seat.
I’d barely sat before a panel in the pale, golden-yellow wall with white wainscoting opened, and Laura came in with a bottle of wine.
She poured while we remained quiet, then she left.
“I hear you took a wander,” Lady Jane noted when the panel clicked shut while I was sipping the wine.
