one way or the other was impossible. Perhaps, she thought wryly, it was because the slightest movement might have disturbed the intricate folds of the cravat tied beneath it.
Her eyes then took in the large gold buttons and the nipped waist of the bright blue coat, the cut of which only exaggerated the incipient paunch. The skintight pale cream pantaloons were equally unflattering to his pudgy thighs, putting her in mind of two Bavarian bratwursts. The sausages were thrust into a pair of pointed Hessians, their white tops festooned with an ornate tassel.
She repressed a shudder. The entire effect must have taken hours to achieve. No wonder gentlemen of the ton were so deuced boring! They had little time to spend on aught but preening before a cheval glass.
"So, our self-styled relatives have finally arrived," said the young man.
Her gaze came up from the tips of his boots, just in time to catch his expression. He was looking as though he were regarding three mangy mutts who had just run their muddy paws over the expensive oriental carpet.
Zara had to fight down the urge to land a hard right cross to the crinkled nose.
"Do not upset yourself, Grandmama," he drawled. "I daresay Twick will soon see they are sent packing."
"Hmmph." Lady Farrington's eyes took on a brittle sparkle. "I should hope that the duke will see fit to do his duty."
"And what duty is that, Aunt Hermione?"
At the sound of the low baritone voice, Zara whirled around and stared at the tall figure framed in the doorway.
" You !" Her hands clenched into tights fists at her side. "Of all the cursed luck," she muttered. "I should have known we had not seen the last of our Jonah."
"Jonah? Jonah?" Lady Farrington blinked in consternation. "What is the gel nattering on about? Your given name is Deverill."
"Just a little joke between old friends," murmured Prestwick.
"Friends!" Her expression turned to one of alarm. "Surely you don't mean to say you are acquainted with these... people?"
Prestwick smoothed a finger over the notched lapel of his coat. "Oh, let us just say I have covered a lot of ground with Miss Greeley and her brothers."
Chapter 7
The brusque ringing of the silver bell broke the awkward silence.
A moment later, the butler appeared, still looking somewhat befuddled by the recent turn of events. "Yes, Your Grace?" he said, addressing the duke after an uneasy glance at Lady Farrington and her grandson.
"Have tea brought in immediately, along with a cold collation," said Prestwick. His own shock and dismay at discovering his erstwhile companions in the parlor of Highwood Manor had not prevented him from noticing the hollowness of the young lady's cheeks and the bruised shadowing under her eyes.
As soon as the servant had hurried from the room, Lady Farrington fixed him with a sharp glare. "Prestwick! Have you taken leave of your senses—"
He cut off the rebuke in mid-sentence. "No, I have not. Nor have I taken leave of my manners, Aunt Hermione."
Her eyes widened, then her mouth shut with a near audible snap.
"Miss Greeley, will you and the lads please be seated?" he continued, indicating the sofa. "I am sure you must be tired after your journey."
Pride warred with fatigue upon her drawn features, and for a moment, the young lady looked as if she might refuse. But a sideways glance at the pinched faces of her brothers seemed to make up her mind. Nodding curtly to Nonny and Perry, she moved with a stiff dignity to take up the proffered place.
"Once the Greeleys have had a bit of refreshment, perhaps we may all discuss this situation in a civilized fashion."
"Civilized!" huffed his great aunt. With a snap of her wrist, she raised her lorgnette and made a show of surveying the dusty faces and travelworn garments of the three siblings.
"Speaking of civilized, I should ask that you kindly refrain from such outbursts, Aunt Hermione." Prestwick's voice was measured, but the show of calm authority masked the cross
Her eyes then took in the large gold buttons and the nipped waist of the bright blue coat, the cut of which only exaggerated the incipient paunch. The skintight pale cream pantaloons were equally unflattering to his pudgy thighs, putting her in mind of two Bavarian bratwursts. The sausages were thrust into a pair of pointed Hessians, their white tops festooned with an ornate tassel.
She repressed a shudder. The entire effect must have taken hours to achieve. No wonder gentlemen of the ton were so deuced boring! They had little time to spend on aught but preening before a cheval glass.
"So, our self-styled relatives have finally arrived," said the young man.
Her gaze came up from the tips of his boots, just in time to catch his expression. He was looking as though he were regarding three mangy mutts who had just run their muddy paws over the expensive oriental carpet.
Zara had to fight down the urge to land a hard right cross to the crinkled nose.
"Do not upset yourself, Grandmama," he drawled. "I daresay Twick will soon see they are sent packing."
"Hmmph." Lady Farrington's eyes took on a brittle sparkle. "I should hope that the duke will see fit to do his duty."
"And what duty is that, Aunt Hermione?"
At the sound of the low baritone voice, Zara whirled around and stared at the tall figure framed in the doorway.
" You !" Her hands clenched into tights fists at her side. "Of all the cursed luck," she muttered. "I should have known we had not seen the last of our Jonah."
"Jonah? Jonah?" Lady Farrington blinked in consternation. "What is the gel nattering on about? Your given name is Deverill."
"Just a little joke between old friends," murmured Prestwick.
"Friends!" Her expression turned to one of alarm. "Surely you don't mean to say you are acquainted with these... people?"
Prestwick smoothed a finger over the notched lapel of his coat. "Oh, let us just say I have covered a lot of ground with Miss Greeley and her brothers."
Chapter 7
The brusque ringing of the silver bell broke the awkward silence.
A moment later, the butler appeared, still looking somewhat befuddled by the recent turn of events. "Yes, Your Grace?" he said, addressing the duke after an uneasy glance at Lady Farrington and her grandson.
"Have tea brought in immediately, along with a cold collation," said Prestwick. His own shock and dismay at discovering his erstwhile companions in the parlor of Highwood Manor had not prevented him from noticing the hollowness of the young lady's cheeks and the bruised shadowing under her eyes.
As soon as the servant had hurried from the room, Lady Farrington fixed him with a sharp glare. "Prestwick! Have you taken leave of your senses—"
He cut off the rebuke in mid-sentence. "No, I have not. Nor have I taken leave of my manners, Aunt Hermione."
Her eyes widened, then her mouth shut with a near audible snap.
"Miss Greeley, will you and the lads please be seated?" he continued, indicating the sofa. "I am sure you must be tired after your journey."
Pride warred with fatigue upon her drawn features, and for a moment, the young lady looked as if she might refuse. But a sideways glance at the pinched faces of her brothers seemed to make up her mind. Nodding curtly to Nonny and Perry, she moved with a stiff dignity to take up the proffered place.
"Once the Greeleys have had a bit of refreshment, perhaps we may all discuss this situation in a civilized fashion."
"Civilized!" huffed his great aunt. With a snap of her wrist, she raised her lorgnette and made a show of surveying the dusty faces and travelworn garments of the three siblings.
"Speaking of civilized, I should ask that you kindly refrain from such outbursts, Aunt Hermione." Prestwick's voice was measured, but the show of calm authority masked the cross
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