he’d been introduced to the man’s relatives. A sorrier bunch he couldn’t have found anywhere: the grim stepmother, the slothful half brother, the haughty fiancée, and the spoiled wards. They were like characters in a bad theatrical play, and he couldn’t fathom why Penworth had brought them along.
If it had been up to Phillip, he’d have told the entire crew to remain in England. How did Penworth find any peace when surrounded by the wretched group?
Phillip wondered how poor Miss Lambert was faring. He hadn’t seen her. Was she still working for Penworth? Or had she swallowed Phillip’s potion, married, and fled the man’s employ?
Phillip certainly hoped that she had. She was too sweet to be trapped in such a miserable situation.
He located the punch bowl and was elated to note that Clarinda had been correct: The frothy concoction was laced with liquor. He downed a glass then ambled to the terrace, wanting to be away from the gowns and perfume and sweat. Leaned against the balustrade, he gazed out at the park, the trails clearly marked by hanging lanterns.
If Clarinda kept insisting she was happy, glad for the lodging Odell had offered, Phillip couldn’t make her abandon it. But where would it leave them? They’d always been a pair, a team. If he left Clarinda behind, what would become of him? The notion of carrying on without her was unbearably sad.
How long would he dicker in Scotland? How long would he wait to hear Clarinda say she was ready to return to London? What if she was never ready?
“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”
Phillip spun to see that a woman had joined him.
“Yes, it is.”
She was very beautiful, with vibrant brunette hair, big green eyes, and a voluptuous figure. Initially, he thought they were close to the same age, but he quickly realized that she was older, perhaps by a decade or more. She wore her maturity well, her attractiveness flowing out in a pulsating wave.
“You won’t swoon if I introduce myself, will you?” she asked.
“I’ll try not to,” Phillip dryly responded.
“I’m renowned for doing what’s completely improper.”
“My favorite sort of female.”
“Then I suppose we’ll get on famously.”
“Yes, I suppose we will.”
“I’m Barbara Middleton.”
She extended her slender hand, and he clasped hold. She didn’t seem inclined to pull it away, so he didn’t either.
“I’m Phillip Dudley.”
“Hello, Mr. Dudley. Tell me that you’ll rescue me from the dullards inside.”
“Will you walk with me in the garden?”
“I would be delighted.”
He took her arm and started for the stairs. They proceeded down the manicured paths, the noise from the party fading in the distance. The farther they strolled from the castle, the better he felt.
“You sound very English, Mr. Dudley,” she said.
“I am.”
“Allow me to rudely pry into what brings you to Scotland?”
“My sister, Clarinda, and I are friendly with Captain Odell, Penworth’s neighbor to the west. Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He’ll be in London for a time—he’s marrying an English girl—and he asked us to come up and look after the property for him.”
“Have you had any visitors yet?”
“No.”
“Then I shall be your first. How about if I call on you tomorrow?”
“I would be honored, and Clarinda will be thrilled. Now, what about you? Why are you here? If you’re a Middleton, you must be related to the earl.”
“I’m his mother.”
“Oh,” he mused, “ that Barbara.”
“Yes, that one.”
“Everybody is whispering about you.”
“Wouldn’t you think they could find a more interesting topic than me?”
“Apparently not. We’re in the country, after all. If you weren’t here, what would they have to gossip about?”
“I aim to please.”
Phillip chuckled, and they sauntered on in a companionable silence, and he had to admit that he was extremely intrigued.
No one who lived in London could have failed to hear the stories
If it had been up to Phillip, he’d have told the entire crew to remain in England. How did Penworth find any peace when surrounded by the wretched group?
Phillip wondered how poor Miss Lambert was faring. He hadn’t seen her. Was she still working for Penworth? Or had she swallowed Phillip’s potion, married, and fled the man’s employ?
Phillip certainly hoped that she had. She was too sweet to be trapped in such a miserable situation.
He located the punch bowl and was elated to note that Clarinda had been correct: The frothy concoction was laced with liquor. He downed a glass then ambled to the terrace, wanting to be away from the gowns and perfume and sweat. Leaned against the balustrade, he gazed out at the park, the trails clearly marked by hanging lanterns.
If Clarinda kept insisting she was happy, glad for the lodging Odell had offered, Phillip couldn’t make her abandon it. But where would it leave them? They’d always been a pair, a team. If he left Clarinda behind, what would become of him? The notion of carrying on without her was unbearably sad.
How long would he dicker in Scotland? How long would he wait to hear Clarinda say she was ready to return to London? What if she was never ready?
“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”
Phillip spun to see that a woman had joined him.
“Yes, it is.”
She was very beautiful, with vibrant brunette hair, big green eyes, and a voluptuous figure. Initially, he thought they were close to the same age, but he quickly realized that she was older, perhaps by a decade or more. She wore her maturity well, her attractiveness flowing out in a pulsating wave.
“You won’t swoon if I introduce myself, will you?” she asked.
“I’ll try not to,” Phillip dryly responded.
“I’m renowned for doing what’s completely improper.”
“My favorite sort of female.”
“Then I suppose we’ll get on famously.”
“Yes, I suppose we will.”
“I’m Barbara Middleton.”
She extended her slender hand, and he clasped hold. She didn’t seem inclined to pull it away, so he didn’t either.
“I’m Phillip Dudley.”
“Hello, Mr. Dudley. Tell me that you’ll rescue me from the dullards inside.”
“Will you walk with me in the garden?”
“I would be delighted.”
He took her arm and started for the stairs. They proceeded down the manicured paths, the noise from the party fading in the distance. The farther they strolled from the castle, the better he felt.
“You sound very English, Mr. Dudley,” she said.
“I am.”
“Allow me to rudely pry into what brings you to Scotland?”
“My sister, Clarinda, and I are friendly with Captain Odell, Penworth’s neighbor to the west. Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He’ll be in London for a time—he’s marrying an English girl—and he asked us to come up and look after the property for him.”
“Have you had any visitors yet?”
“No.”
“Then I shall be your first. How about if I call on you tomorrow?”
“I would be honored, and Clarinda will be thrilled. Now, what about you? Why are you here? If you’re a Middleton, you must be related to the earl.”
“I’m his mother.”
“Oh,” he mused, “ that Barbara.”
“Yes, that one.”
“Everybody is whispering about you.”
“Wouldn’t you think they could find a more interesting topic than me?”
“Apparently not. We’re in the country, after all. If you weren’t here, what would they have to gossip about?”
“I aim to please.”
Phillip chuckled, and they sauntered on in a companionable silence, and he had to admit that he was extremely intrigued.
No one who lived in London could have failed to hear the stories
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