Trouble at the Wedding by Laura Lee Guhrke Page B

restorations could wait. “Our home shall have all the conveniences of modern life.”
    â€œHmm, I daresay you’ll have your work cut out for you there. The Dowager Countess is a formidable opponent of all things modern. Tradition has always been far more important to that good lady than comfort.” He leaned closer. “I think she wishes hair shirts and chastity belts were still in vogue.”
    â€œYou’re exaggerating.”
    With a shrug, he turned to the bookshelf. “You obviously haven’t met her.” He lifted out a book and began to scan the pages. “Perhaps you should,” he added, the very nonchalance of his voice making her suspicious. “If you could manage that before the wedding, you’d avoid a great deal of heartache and a great many head colds.”
    â€œI find it hard to believe that any woman, especially an older one, would prefer to live in a house that’s freezing cold when she shall be able to have central heating instead.”
    â€œI told you. Because it’s tradition, and traditions cannot and shall not be broken.” Marking his place with one finger, he closed the book, then he turned toward her, looking down his nose at her, the book pressed to his chest. “We have nev-ah had central heating, my lady,” he said in a ponderous voice, managing to seem every bit as proper and stuffy as she’d always imagined an English butler to be. It was so uncanny, in fact, that she had to press her lips together to avoid a smile. Smiling, she feared, would only encourage him. “And we nev-ah shall, God willing,” he went on. “Keeping our feet warm is what the dogs are for.”
    â€œDogs? You mean foxhounds?”
    â€œNo, no, hounds are another thing altogether. They rather go along with the estate, like the entail, you know, and the leaky roof, and the inevitable dowager who always hates being usurped. No, I’m talking about Rummy’s own dogs. He has nine.”
    â€œNine?” She stared at him in some alarm. “Nine dogs?”
    â€œPugs. Fierce little fellows. I believe Lady Seaworth had to break with him because of the dogs.”
    She smiled. “If you’re trying to shock me, you won’t succeed. I know all about Lady Seaworth. Arthur already told me she was Bernard’s mistress before he met me.”
    â€œYou know about Lady Seaworth, but not the dogs?” He leaned closer, adopting a confidential air. “Rumor has it the dogs slept with them, and after a time, she just couldn’t tolerate the snoring. Or the drool.”
    â€œYou’re making that up,” she accused.
    â€œAsk Rummy if you don’t believe me.”
    â€œRummy—Bernard,” she corrected herself at once, “would have told me about any dogs.”
    â€œPerhaps he didn’t want to frighten you off. If they’re inclined to drool on you in the middle of the night when you’re in bed—”
    â€œThey won’t drool on me.” Annabel set her jaw. “Not in my bed anyway.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit,” he said with approval, resuming his former breezy demeanor. “You Americans are so full of verve. Bringing our English estates up to snuff, and braving Northumberland winters without so much as a pug or two to warm your feet. It’s all very admirable. But I am curious about something.”
    He returned the book to the shelf and moved closer to her. “Why did you need to learn what chilblains are from a dictionary? You seem a confident, forthright sort of girl. Why didn’t you just ask your fiancé?” He slanted her a knowing look. “Or perhaps you did ask, but Rummy wouldn’t tell you?”
    He was the most irritatingly perceptive man. Still, she wasn’t going to admit he’d been right again. “This has all been very interesting, Your Grace, but I came in here for a book, so if you will excuse me?”
    She tucked