Good Ship Rover.” Ronny clumped to the front, took a deep breath and burst forth with a rousing rendition of the song in a deep baritone that actually rattled the crystal drops in the chandelier. When he took his bow to tumultuous applause (even louder than the ovation that had greeted Miss Severn), he cast a proud glance in Julie’s direction, as if to say that if she were now sorry she’d neglected him, she had only herself to blame.
Next on the program of the musicale was a harp solo to be performed by Miss Eugenia Halloway. Two footmen came forward, rolled the long pianoforte to the side and carried in a harp. Miss Halloway, so tall and gaunt that she’d developed a severe stoop, rose from her chair and came modestly forward, her shoulders hunched as if to protect her face from being seen. Just as she took her seat, however, there was a sound from the back of the room. It was Livesey, the butler, clearing his throat. “Edward Lord Smallwood and the Honorable Cleopatra Smallwood,” he announced awkwardly.
In swept Cleo Smallwood, head high, bonnet feathers bobbing and a stylish velvet cape fluttering behind her. She was followed by her tight-lipped, red-faced father. But when they saw the room filled with guests, they both stopped in their tracks, eyes widening in amazement. “Oh!” Cleo gasped. “I didn’t expect—”
“Cleo! ”Tris cried, leaping to his feet.
Her outstretched hand flew to her breast, and she took two steps backward. “Good heavens, I didn’t know... ! Oh, dear! Please... excuse us!” She swung about, grasped her father’s arm and headed for the door. “Dash it, man,” she muttered to the butler as she went by him, “why didn’t you tell us a party was in progress?”
Livesey, the butler, stiffened in offense. Not only was he unaccustomed to being spoken to in that tone, but he’d tried his best to tell the visitors that there was a party going on. The girl had demanded to be announced, and when he’d tried to object, she’d ordered him to hold his tongue and do as he was told. Angry as he was by her unjustified scold, however, he was trained not to show his feelings. His furious sense of offense showed itself only in an almost imperceptible spark in his eyes. “Sorry, madam” was all he said.
But Lord Smallwood didn’t like his daughter’s scold either. “The fellow didn’t tell you,” he muttered as soon as they’d crossed the threshold, “because you never gave him a chance. I told you not to insist on being shown in—”
But at that moment Tris came hurrying out. “Cleo, wait! It’s all right. It’s only an informal musicale. Do come back.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of intruding,” she said. “It was dreadful of us to barge in on you without warning.”
“Yes,” her father muttered dryly, “it’s about time you realized that.”
“No, please!” Tris motioned for Livesey to take her cape. “You’re not barging in. I’m delighted to see you... both.”
“That is kind of you to say, Tris,” Cleo said, beginning to regain her equilibrium. “You are a true gentleman, and I am a ... a virago.”
Tris gave a snort of laughter. “Now, Cleo, really—!”
“I suppose I ought to explain,” she went on. “Papa and I are on our way to... er... Scotland, and we stopped at the inn in Amberford—what was the name of it, Papa? The Pheasant, wasn’t it?”
“The Peacock?” Tris offered.
She treated him to a brilliant smile. “Yes, of course, the Peacock. It was there we learned that Enders Hall was so very close by, and I remembered that you’d once said that if ever I should be in the neighborhood—”
“Of course you should have called on us!” came a new voice. It was Lady Phyllis crossing the threshold. Just then the rippling sounds of the harp commenced from within, and she quickly closed the door behind her. Then she crossed to the newcomers and put out her hand. “Any friends of Tris are always welcome here.”
Tris threw
Next on the program of the musicale was a harp solo to be performed by Miss Eugenia Halloway. Two footmen came forward, rolled the long pianoforte to the side and carried in a harp. Miss Halloway, so tall and gaunt that she’d developed a severe stoop, rose from her chair and came modestly forward, her shoulders hunched as if to protect her face from being seen. Just as she took her seat, however, there was a sound from the back of the room. It was Livesey, the butler, clearing his throat. “Edward Lord Smallwood and the Honorable Cleopatra Smallwood,” he announced awkwardly.
In swept Cleo Smallwood, head high, bonnet feathers bobbing and a stylish velvet cape fluttering behind her. She was followed by her tight-lipped, red-faced father. But when they saw the room filled with guests, they both stopped in their tracks, eyes widening in amazement. “Oh!” Cleo gasped. “I didn’t expect—”
“Cleo! ”Tris cried, leaping to his feet.
Her outstretched hand flew to her breast, and she took two steps backward. “Good heavens, I didn’t know... ! Oh, dear! Please... excuse us!” She swung about, grasped her father’s arm and headed for the door. “Dash it, man,” she muttered to the butler as she went by him, “why didn’t you tell us a party was in progress?”
Livesey, the butler, stiffened in offense. Not only was he unaccustomed to being spoken to in that tone, but he’d tried his best to tell the visitors that there was a party going on. The girl had demanded to be announced, and when he’d tried to object, she’d ordered him to hold his tongue and do as he was told. Angry as he was by her unjustified scold, however, he was trained not to show his feelings. His furious sense of offense showed itself only in an almost imperceptible spark in his eyes. “Sorry, madam” was all he said.
But Lord Smallwood didn’t like his daughter’s scold either. “The fellow didn’t tell you,” he muttered as soon as they’d crossed the threshold, “because you never gave him a chance. I told you not to insist on being shown in—”
But at that moment Tris came hurrying out. “Cleo, wait! It’s all right. It’s only an informal musicale. Do come back.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of intruding,” she said. “It was dreadful of us to barge in on you without warning.”
“Yes,” her father muttered dryly, “it’s about time you realized that.”
“No, please!” Tris motioned for Livesey to take her cape. “You’re not barging in. I’m delighted to see you... both.”
“That is kind of you to say, Tris,” Cleo said, beginning to regain her equilibrium. “You are a true gentleman, and I am a ... a virago.”
Tris gave a snort of laughter. “Now, Cleo, really—!”
“I suppose I ought to explain,” she went on. “Papa and I are on our way to... er... Scotland, and we stopped at the inn in Amberford—what was the name of it, Papa? The Pheasant, wasn’t it?”
“The Peacock?” Tris offered.
She treated him to a brilliant smile. “Yes, of course, the Peacock. It was there we learned that Enders Hall was so very close by, and I remembered that you’d once said that if ever I should be in the neighborhood—”
“Of course you should have called on us!” came a new voice. It was Lady Phyllis crossing the threshold. Just then the rippling sounds of the harp commenced from within, and she quickly closed the door behind her. Then she crossed to the newcomers and put out her hand. “Any friends of Tris are always welcome here.”
Tris threw
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