for Christmas eve, eh?”
Amanda was less enthusiastic. “But the rooms aren’t ready. None of the house is ready! And Cook is liable to give notice.” She jammed her hat back on top of her head.
Evan could dredge up no enthusiasm at all. Damn. With a houseful of guests, it would be rag-mannered for him to spend half his time in the village.
He took his frustration out on the viscount. “That’s a mighty inconvenient place for your gates, Latimer.”
Latimer did not give up his grin. “Been there for years, Haverfield. Odd that you never complained before.”
Wheels crunched to a halt on the gravel. Latimer pulled open the door and let down the steps.
The first to appear was a chit whom Evan supposed to be Lady Honora. The viscount took her hand and helped her down to the ground. His eyes shone with pride when he turned to introduce her to Evan and Amanda, as though she were already his.
Evan could see why he might want her. She was fair, and quite pretty, her willow-green traveling dress showing her to advantage. She seemed modest, even shy, as she made her curtsies, her voice so soft he could barely hear it.
How different she was from her sister, who now claimed Evan’s hand for her own descent onto the gravel. As Lady Blythe stepped down, she managed to stumble, gracefully, forcing his other hand to her waist to steady her while her dark eyes gleamed up at him.
“ Such a long drive we’ve had, Mr. Haverfield. I declare I could positively swoon from the tedium of it.” No, nothing modest or shy about Lady Blythe. Evan led her away from the carriage door.
Finally, the earl clambered down and greeted his hostess. “’Tis a pleasure to see you again, Miss Latimer.” Past forty and a widower twice over, Lowell Huntingdon, Earl of Sudbury, had become ponderous, both in girth and civility. He still acquitted himself like a youth on the hunting field, though he creaked slightly as he bowed to Amanda.
He appeared the most travel-worn of the three—even one day in a carriage with Blythe, Evan imagined, would wear most anyone to a frazzle. “I beg you to tell me, ma’am, if we have arrived betimes for your house party. I thought I heard Latimer invite us for New Year’s , but m’sister swore up and down ’twas Christmas. I hope we do not put you to any inconvenience…”
What could Amanda say but “Of course not!”
Lady Honora’s welcome was in no doubt—Frank had already led her into the house. As the coach was driven away to the stables, Amanda and the earl followed. But Lady Blythe, hooking her arm through Evan’s, pulled him in the other direction toward a pond that lay in its own little vale to one side of the drive. “Oh, don’t let us go indoors just yet. I have been cooped up in that moldering carriage for days ; the fresh air feels delightful!”
Had she not just declared herself ready to faint from fatigue? Moreover, in Evan’s experience, winter travel was chilling, even in closed carriages with blankets and hot bricks. Those bricks cooled off far too quickly. And Blythe’s pelisse, cut low and square to match the neckline of her blue gown, left a quantity of flesh exposed to the weather. But from courtesy, Evan accompanied her across the frosted lawn.
Lady Blythe was a vibrant soul. Like most men, Evan had found her quite appealing on initial acquaintance. She had a fine figure, which she flaunted beneath low necklines, raised hemlines, and dampened skirts. All this was topped by a head of thick, black hair and a face that should be beautiful but somehow lacked… he couldn’t put a name to it.
Perhaps it was a matter of expression, so often arch or condescending. Flirtation seemed to be her only mode of interaction with any man between the ages of eighteen and eighty. She was a courtesan at heart, he thought. She needed either a husband on his death bed or one of those fashionable marriages that left each partner free to pursue outside amours . Evan had no intention of
Amanda was less enthusiastic. “But the rooms aren’t ready. None of the house is ready! And Cook is liable to give notice.” She jammed her hat back on top of her head.
Evan could dredge up no enthusiasm at all. Damn. With a houseful of guests, it would be rag-mannered for him to spend half his time in the village.
He took his frustration out on the viscount. “That’s a mighty inconvenient place for your gates, Latimer.”
Latimer did not give up his grin. “Been there for years, Haverfield. Odd that you never complained before.”
Wheels crunched to a halt on the gravel. Latimer pulled open the door and let down the steps.
The first to appear was a chit whom Evan supposed to be Lady Honora. The viscount took her hand and helped her down to the ground. His eyes shone with pride when he turned to introduce her to Evan and Amanda, as though she were already his.
Evan could see why he might want her. She was fair, and quite pretty, her willow-green traveling dress showing her to advantage. She seemed modest, even shy, as she made her curtsies, her voice so soft he could barely hear it.
How different she was from her sister, who now claimed Evan’s hand for her own descent onto the gravel. As Lady Blythe stepped down, she managed to stumble, gracefully, forcing his other hand to her waist to steady her while her dark eyes gleamed up at him.
“ Such a long drive we’ve had, Mr. Haverfield. I declare I could positively swoon from the tedium of it.” No, nothing modest or shy about Lady Blythe. Evan led her away from the carriage door.
Finally, the earl clambered down and greeted his hostess. “’Tis a pleasure to see you again, Miss Latimer.” Past forty and a widower twice over, Lowell Huntingdon, Earl of Sudbury, had become ponderous, both in girth and civility. He still acquitted himself like a youth on the hunting field, though he creaked slightly as he bowed to Amanda.
He appeared the most travel-worn of the three—even one day in a carriage with Blythe, Evan imagined, would wear most anyone to a frazzle. “I beg you to tell me, ma’am, if we have arrived betimes for your house party. I thought I heard Latimer invite us for New Year’s , but m’sister swore up and down ’twas Christmas. I hope we do not put you to any inconvenience…”
What could Amanda say but “Of course not!”
Lady Honora’s welcome was in no doubt—Frank had already led her into the house. As the coach was driven away to the stables, Amanda and the earl followed. But Lady Blythe, hooking her arm through Evan’s, pulled him in the other direction toward a pond that lay in its own little vale to one side of the drive. “Oh, don’t let us go indoors just yet. I have been cooped up in that moldering carriage for days ; the fresh air feels delightful!”
Had she not just declared herself ready to faint from fatigue? Moreover, in Evan’s experience, winter travel was chilling, even in closed carriages with blankets and hot bricks. Those bricks cooled off far too quickly. And Blythe’s pelisse, cut low and square to match the neckline of her blue gown, left a quantity of flesh exposed to the weather. But from courtesy, Evan accompanied her across the frosted lawn.
Lady Blythe was a vibrant soul. Like most men, Evan had found her quite appealing on initial acquaintance. She had a fine figure, which she flaunted beneath low necklines, raised hemlines, and dampened skirts. All this was topped by a head of thick, black hair and a face that should be beautiful but somehow lacked… he couldn’t put a name to it.
Perhaps it was a matter of expression, so often arch or condescending. Flirtation seemed to be her only mode of interaction with any man between the ages of eighteen and eighty. She was a courtesan at heart, he thought. She needed either a husband on his death bed or one of those fashionable marriages that left each partner free to pursue outside amours . Evan had no intention of
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