“He is a man of infinite good taste? Good night, Amelia, No, no more honestly,
at least for tonight. I promise I’ll never whistle at the table again. You’re
right, whistling at the dinner table wasn’t well-done of me.”
“Then?”
I literally shoved her toward the door.
Amelia the worrier, I thought, as I firmly closed the door. I guessed there had
to be one in every family. Actually, I was pleased that she felt such affection
and concern for her uncle-in-law.
I didn’t even have time to take three steps when Stella, her lady’s maid, a
woman I wouldn’t want to meet on a dark night in an alley, suddenly appeared and
gave me a niggardly curtsy and a stingy smile. She was of middle years, her dark
hair, threaded with gray, pulled back in a harsh bun. She was taller than I?nearly
everyone was?and so skinny I swear I could nearly see the shape of her bones in
the candlelight. She had a dark mustache above her upper lip.
She didn’t want to be here. I wasn’t her mistress, Amelia was. I said, “Thank
you for your assistance, Stella. Please fetch me a small glass of brandy for my
headache, then you may remove yourself for the night.”
A thick black eyebrow hoisted itself halfway up her forehead. She gave me the
barest of nods and took herself off.
Oh, dear, I thought as Stella disappeared through the doorway. Would Stella now
rush to the kitchens and announce to everyone that the new countess was a
tippler? Probably so. Well, it would give them some nice gossip until they
learned how truly innocuous their new mistress was.
Alone, I quickly walked to the long wall of drawn draperies and pulled them back.
It was a dark night, with just a sliver of moon, and clouds were in constant
shift over the stars. I tied back the gold curtain tassel. I couldn’t see much,
just thick dark shadows that I thought must be the home wood. There was no
movement of any kind. Everything was calm and still.
I walked to the cherry wood armoire that had to be at least two hundred years
old and pulled out a lovely crimson velvet cloak lined with ermine, and wrapped
myself up. Dear George must be pacing by now. I didn’t want any dog accidents
our first night in our new home.
At that moment Stella reappeared with my brandy, a very full glass of brandy,
and she handed it to me with a barely suppressed smirk. Once she was out of
sight, I downed several sips, drew a deep breath, and told my headache to get a
grip on itself.
A few minutes later I knocked lightly on Miss Chrislock’s bedchamber door. I
heard her call out, and opened the door to see that George was indeed pacing.
When he saw me, he set up a din until I had him in my arms and was alternately
kissing him and rubbing his ears. “You’re ready for your before-bed-time stroll?”
Once I was satisfied that Miss Chrislock was comfortably settled, I wished her a
fond good night, kissed her cheek, then bore George away. Thankfully, he didn’t
bark at all until we were outside. Then he looked up at the dark sky, at the
house and grounds he wasn’t at all used to, and whimpered. He plastered himself
against my leg.
“It’s all right,” I said, leaning down to pet him. “This is our new home. It is
not all that different from Deerfield Hall. We can’t explore tonight, it is too
late, and my head feels like it wants to fall off my neck and go bouncing across
the ground. I promise to take you all about tomorrow. Go find a suitable bush,
George. I’ll wait for you here.”
The night was cold. Thank God there was only a slight breeze. I wrapped myself
more tightly in my cloak and watched George pause at a bush, decide it was not
to his liking, for whatever reason, then trot to the next, and the next.
“When will he come to a decision?”
It was John. I was quite alone with him. It didn’t matter. He was my step-nephew.