retire, but I do hope that won’t be any time soon.’
‘Nonsense, Aunt Connie, he’s not that old,’ replied Lavinia laughing.
‘And even if he is, I can’t see him ever stopping work, he’s much too devoted
to you.’
‘Bless you, child,’ beamed Lady Withers. ‘Oh look, here are the young
gentlemen now. My, how handsome Lord Sneddon is, Lavinia, I believe he’s quite
a catch.’
‘Shush, Aunt,’ replied Lavinia hurriedly, ‘he’ll hear you, but yes he
does look absolutely divine, doesn’t he. Don’t you agree, Rose?’
‘Yes,’ replied Rose dutifully, although it was not Lord Sneddon who had
caught her eye. Even so, she could see why Lavinia found him attractive. He was
tall, a good head taller than his companion who was himself by no means short
or even of middle height, and was very dark with almost jet black hair. He
carried himself well, very upright, and there was a look approaching arrogance
about him as if he were fully aware of his own importance which, given that he
was heir to a dukedom, the highest hereditary
title in the British aristocracy, was not
insignificant. His eyes, when he turned to focus his gaze on Lavinia, could be
described as nothing less than smouldering and Rose heard a small intake of
breath from her friend as she luxuriated in his attentions. It was a few
moments before he turned his head to acknowledge Rose’s presence because Lady
Withers had intervened herself to welcome him, clasping his hands in hers and
fussing around him like a bee around a honey pot. When at last he directed his
look to Rose, there was an altogether different expression on his face,
although Rose thought that probably only she herself had seen it.
Lord Sneddon’s look towards her was
clearly mocking. It seemed to Rose that he took his time to look her up and
down as he might a horse he was considering purchasing and a smile crossed his
full, rosebud lips which was by no means kind. It made her for a moment feel
vulnerable and alone. Both Lavinia and Lady Withers were totally oblivious to
her discomfort, she was sure, just as she was equally certain that Lord
Sneddon’s intention was to make her feel ill at ease.
‘Miss Simpson, or may I call you
Rose?’ the marquis drawled. ‘How wonderful to make your acquaintance at last.
Cedric and I have heard so much about you from Lavinia and I can see that she
did not write a word of a lie about you, for you are exactly how I pictured you
would be from her description of you.’ He turned to Lavinia and they both
laughed. Rose stood there feeling awkward. She thought it unlikely that her
friend would have said anything outright unkind about her, but the way Lord
Sneddon insinuated by his manner, it was as if she had.
‘I say, you there,’ Lord Sneddon
flicked his fingers and Albert, the young footman, came hurrying over. ‘Have
you got one of those modern domestic refrigerators here?’
‘Yes, your lordship, we’ve an
electrically operated one. It has a storage capacity of twenty-two cubic feet and
Mrs Palmer, she’s the cook-housekeeper, is right proud –.’
‘Splendid. Take these,’ Lord Sneddon
handed the footman what looked like some small metal balls. ‘Put them in the
refrigerator, they need to be made ice-cold and then bring them out to me this evening
when we have cocktails.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ said Albert,
taking the balls gingerly.
‘Whatever are they, Hugh?’ enquired
Lavinia.
‘Wait and see,’ replied Lord Sneddon
with a gleam in his eye. ‘If you’re lucky I might put one or two in your glass.’
Lavinia giggled.
The man who had caught Rose’s
attention was still a little way off and appeared engrossed in conversation
with Stafford. This in itself seemed remarkable to Rose, more so because the
butler appeared to be smiling, having seemingly forgotten his usual impassive
air; the combination of these two things roused Rose’s curiosity. The man came
closer and, as he strode across the gardens towards
‘Nonsense, Aunt Connie, he’s not that old,’ replied Lavinia laughing.
‘And even if he is, I can’t see him ever stopping work, he’s much too devoted
to you.’
‘Bless you, child,’ beamed Lady Withers. ‘Oh look, here are the young
gentlemen now. My, how handsome Lord Sneddon is, Lavinia, I believe he’s quite
a catch.’
‘Shush, Aunt,’ replied Lavinia hurriedly, ‘he’ll hear you, but yes he
does look absolutely divine, doesn’t he. Don’t you agree, Rose?’
‘Yes,’ replied Rose dutifully, although it was not Lord Sneddon who had
caught her eye. Even so, she could see why Lavinia found him attractive. He was
tall, a good head taller than his companion who was himself by no means short
or even of middle height, and was very dark with almost jet black hair. He
carried himself well, very upright, and there was a look approaching arrogance
about him as if he were fully aware of his own importance which, given that he
was heir to a dukedom, the highest hereditary
title in the British aristocracy, was not
insignificant. His eyes, when he turned to focus his gaze on Lavinia, could be
described as nothing less than smouldering and Rose heard a small intake of
breath from her friend as she luxuriated in his attentions. It was a few
moments before he turned his head to acknowledge Rose’s presence because Lady
Withers had intervened herself to welcome him, clasping his hands in hers and
fussing around him like a bee around a honey pot. When at last he directed his
look to Rose, there was an altogether different expression on his face,
although Rose thought that probably only she herself had seen it.
Lord Sneddon’s look towards her was
clearly mocking. It seemed to Rose that he took his time to look her up and
down as he might a horse he was considering purchasing and a smile crossed his
full, rosebud lips which was by no means kind. It made her for a moment feel
vulnerable and alone. Both Lavinia and Lady Withers were totally oblivious to
her discomfort, she was sure, just as she was equally certain that Lord
Sneddon’s intention was to make her feel ill at ease.
‘Miss Simpson, or may I call you
Rose?’ the marquis drawled. ‘How wonderful to make your acquaintance at last.
Cedric and I have heard so much about you from Lavinia and I can see that she
did not write a word of a lie about you, for you are exactly how I pictured you
would be from her description of you.’ He turned to Lavinia and they both
laughed. Rose stood there feeling awkward. She thought it unlikely that her
friend would have said anything outright unkind about her, but the way Lord
Sneddon insinuated by his manner, it was as if she had.
‘I say, you there,’ Lord Sneddon
flicked his fingers and Albert, the young footman, came hurrying over. ‘Have
you got one of those modern domestic refrigerators here?’
‘Yes, your lordship, we’ve an
electrically operated one. It has a storage capacity of twenty-two cubic feet and
Mrs Palmer, she’s the cook-housekeeper, is right proud –.’
‘Splendid. Take these,’ Lord Sneddon
handed the footman what looked like some small metal balls. ‘Put them in the
refrigerator, they need to be made ice-cold and then bring them out to me this evening
when we have cocktails.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ said Albert,
taking the balls gingerly.
‘Whatever are they, Hugh?’ enquired
Lavinia.
‘Wait and see,’ replied Lord Sneddon
with a gleam in his eye. ‘If you’re lucky I might put one or two in your glass.’
Lavinia giggled.
The man who had caught Rose’s
attention was still a little way off and appeared engrossed in conversation
with Stafford. This in itself seemed remarkable to Rose, more so because the
butler appeared to be smiling, having seemingly forgotten his usual impassive
air; the combination of these two things roused Rose’s curiosity. The man came
closer and, as he strode across the gardens towards
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