Deceived by Bertrice Small

servants about the baggage.
    â€œWelcome to England, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she heard a voice say.
    Looking up as she drew her gloves off, she saw the duke descending the stairs. “Thank you, your grace,” she responded politely.
    He took her two cold hands in his warm ones and replied, “I thought we had agreed all those long months ago that you would call me Valerian, Aurora. Lord, you are frozen, I fear. Come into the drawing room, and I will have tea brought. My grandmother has come up from Hawkes Hill with me to greet you. She is waiting for you.”
    Ascending the staircase, they entered a magnificent drawing room with a gilded ornamental frieze around its paneled ceiling. The carpets were thick and colorful. The walls were hung with fine portraits, and the mahogany furniture, unlike that in the Indies, was upholstered richly. Heavy velvet draperies hung from the windows, and in a huge fireplace flanked by great stone lions a great warm blaze burned. By the fire sat an elderly lady with snow-white hair. She arose to greet them.
    â€œGrandmama, this is Miss Aurora Spencer-Kimberly,” the duke said. “Aurora, this is my grandmama, the Dowager Duchess of Farminster.”
    Aurora curtsied prettily. “How do you do, ma’am,” she said.
    Mary Rose Hawkesworth looked sharply at Aurora. Why was the girl’s face familiar? She looked nothing like that foolish Calandra. “How do you do, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” she answered the girl. Then, seeing Aurora shiver, she said, “Come by the fire, my dear. You are, of course, not used to our English weather.”
    â€œI fear not, ma’am, although Captain Conway assures me that my blood will thicken, and then I shall not feel the cold as deeply.”
    The dowager chuckled, and led the girl to a seat by the fire. Her grandson pulled the bell cord on the wall, and when a servant replied sent the fellow for hot tea. Out in the foyer Cally could be heard laughing, and then she called for her stepsister.
    â€œWe are in the east drawing room,” the duke responded.
    Cally burst into the room, George and Lord Trahern in her wake. “Hawkesworth!” she said, surprised. “What brings you in from the country?” Then her eye spied the dowager. “Oh! Grandmama has come too. Good evening to you, ma’am.” She offered the dowager a scant curtsy.
    â€œCalandra” came the frosty reply.
    â€œWe did not expect you, Hawkesworth,” Calandra said.
    â€œObviously not, my dear,” he answered her. “Good evening, Trahern.” Then he turned and said, “Welcome to England, George.” The brothers-in-law shook hands. “Come now, and meet my grandmother.”
    There was something terribly wrong between Cally and her husband, Aurora thought. They were civil to each other—barely—but there was a coolness between them. For some reason, she felt sorrier for the duke than for her stepsister. The young woman chattering brightly in this room was not the sister she remembered. She could tell from just looking at George that he felt the same way. The butler arrived bearing a large silver tray upon which was a teapot, tea saucers, and a plate upon which were delicate triangles of buttered bread and thin slices of fruitcake.
    â€œTea? Ohhh, no, no, no, no, no!” Cally trilled. “We would celebrate my brother and stepsister’s arrival with champagne! Bring some up from the cellars!” she ordered the butler.
    â€œCally, I am so cold,” Aurora told her. “I want tea!”
    â€œOh, very well, but the rest of us shall have champagne!” Cally declared. “Aurora, I hope your attitude stems from exhaustion, and that you are not going to prove to be a dull guest.”
    â€œIt was not my understanding that George and I had come to provide entertainment for you, Cally,” Aurora snapped.
    â€œGood for you, girl!” the old dowager said