Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
T he next day, Ewart found himself sitting with Adelia among a gaggle of women, taking notes on the wedding plans they were making. It reminded him of a queen holding court. Adelia sat in a floral wing chair, her three charges occupying the sofa, much as they had the day he arrived. Joining them was Mrs. Simpson, Chastity’s future mother-in-law.
Holly’s parents were deceased, as was Hattie’s father, though her mother was still alive. Adelia had told him she didn’t speak to the woman and that if he wanted to know more, he would have to ask Hattie about it.
“And what do you think of roses?” Adelia asked the women. “We could use pink ones to decorate the church, with white and yellow too, of course.”
Holly laughed. “Merciful heavens, your rose garden will be empty by the time we’re through!”
“Nonsense. We can order some of what we need,” Adelia intoned, balancing a cigar between her fingers, though she hadn’t lit it yet. Ewart suspected it was because of Mrs. Simpson, who kept eyeing the cigar with a grimace.
The rest of the women didn’t seem to notice. Each wore a happy smile but had their own nervous habits. As a writer, Ewart prided himself on noticing such things, like the way Chastity’s right hand kept brushing imaginary crumbs off her chest. Hattie, likewise, fidgeted, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, while Holly would bring a teacup halfway to her lips only to set it back down in its saucer again. Even Mrs. Simpson kept fiddling with a brooch pinned to the left side of her chest.Was it broken?
He made a mental note to jot his observations down in his journal later, but he was distracted by the ringing of the doorbell. He watched as Mr. Tugs slowly shuffled across the grand foyer to answer it.
“Who could that be?” Chastity wondered. “Adelia, did you have someone else coming to help?”
“No. I haven’t the slightest idea who’s here.”
Abigail crossed the drawing room with a fresh pot of tea. “It can’t be Mr. McBain’s assistant. We only dropped off the order for the invitations yesterday.” She set the fresh pot on the low table in front of the sofa and picked up the other to take it back to the kitchen.
Everyone turned toward the foyer when they heard Mr. Tugs exclaim, “Oh, dear me!”
Ewart followed everyone’s gaze as a woman stepped through the door. She had red hair, was well dressed, and strode across the grand foyer toward the drawing room as if she owned the manse. Without hesitation, she went straight to Adelia’s chair. “Well, this is quite the gathering. Have I come at a bad time?”
“Rebecca Harrington,” Adelia drawled. “What brings you to my doorstep—not to mention into my drawing room?”
The newcomer gave her a smug smile. “I came on a private matter, but it seems I’m interrupting something. Wedding plans, I take it?”
“Of course, my dear,” Mrs. Simpson said diplomatically, her eyes darting to Adelia. “It’s been a while since anyone has seen you about.”
“Yes, my parents and I took a trip. We’ve been in New York for the past two months. We’re back for the season.” She spotted Abigail standing with the teapot. “You,” she snapped, taking the only empty chair. “Pour me a cup, and be careful with the sugar.”
Abigail’s eyebrows shot up, and she looked at Adelia, as if asking permission to serve the woman.
Adelia gave her a single nod.
Ewart watched with interest as Abigail prepared the tea, then shifted his attention to the three brides on the sofa. Chastity was watching the newcomer with a small glare. Holly regarded Miss Harrington warily, while Hattie made no eye contact at all, perhaps they had never met.
Adelia, on the other hand, observed Rebecca Harrington with a coolness that suggested she was merely allowing her to be in the room, and nothing more.
“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order,” Miss Harrington said, openly ignoring the less-than-warm reception. “I dare say Denver won’t know what to do with so many happy couples.” She laughed—a sharp contrast to the tension her presence had created.
Abigail carefully poured tea into a cup. Ewart couldn’t tell if the woman’s arrival had upset her or not.Good grief, he could almost feel a collective inhale as she handed the cup and saucer to Miss Harrington.
“Chastity, dear,” Adelia said, breaking the silence, “have you asked Dalton about any of the decorations for the church? I suppose we should give the grooms their say.”
“I don’t think River cares,” Hattie said.
Holly nodded, her eyes glued to the table. “Joseph hasn’t said anything either.”
“It hardly matters what the men think,” Mrs. Simpson said. “This is why they always leave the wedding planning to the women.”
Rebecca watched the women, her gaze flicked to Ewart as she took a sip of tea, then quickly set it in its saucer.
“You there,” she snapped at Abigail. “I said be careful with the sugar.”
The room fell silent as Rebecca sent a dagger-sharp glare toward Abigail.
“I thought I put enough in, Miss Harrington,” Abigail said evenly.
“It’s too much. Make me another cup.”
A slight flush colored Abigail’s cheeks as she took the cup and saucer from her. “I’ll have to get ye a fresh cup from the kitchen.”
“Fine, but be quick about it,” Rebecca said, giving her a slow, scrutinizing once-over. “If your clumsy feet will let you.”
Ewart heard a few soft gasps from the brides but kept his eyes on Abigail.
“Perhaps you could also bring a touch of cream?” Rebecca added.
“There’s cream already here, Miss Harrington,” Abigail said, nodding toward the table.
“I like my cream fresh from the kitchen. Who knows how long that’s been sitting there?” She turned to Ewart as Abigail hurried out of the room. “Adelia, whom do we have here? Is he a relative of yours?”
“No. He’s my new assistant,” Adelia said, leaning back in her chair like a queen reclining on her throne.
“Assistant?” Miss Harrington repeated in shock. “You hired a man this time?”
“Men do the job just as well as women,” Adelia said coolly.
Miss Harrington’s eyes widened. “And is hestayinghere in the mansion?”
“Of course. All my assistants do,” Adelia replied.
“Amanin the house with three young brides-to-be?” Miss Harrington’s tone dripped with scandalized glee.
Ewart glanced between her and his employer. Chastity, Holly, and Hattie were openly glaring at this point.
Miss Harrington ignored them all. “I bought several new gowns in New York. They get the fashions from Paris first, you know. They’relovely . I can’t wait to show them off. Have you had any balls or parties since my family and I have been away?” she asked Adelia.
“No, I haven’t,” Adelia said. “But I am planning a few things, aside from organizing three weddings, of course.”
“If anyone can handle all of it,youcan,” Mrs. Simpson tittered. “Good heavens, I can hardly plan meals for the week without help!”
Adelia smiled at her but said nothing, her gaze fixed on Miss Harrington.
Ewart watched, shifting his attention from the notes in his lap to the women around him as the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. He was sure he’d hear all about Miss Harrington as soon as she left the mansion.
Abigail returned with a fresh cup of tea and a small pitcher of cream, carefully avoiding eye contact with Miss Harrington. She set the cream on the low table and proceeded to pour the tea.
“I’ll watch you put the sugar in this time,” Miss Harrington said. “Do it wrong again, and I’ll…”
“You’llwhat?” Adelia interrupted. “Fire my maid?”
Miss Harrington gaped at her for a moment before recovering. “Of course not. She doesn’tworkfor me. But anyone can see she’s slow.”
Abigail sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing.
Adelia turned to Ewart. “Tell me, Ewart, you ran errands with Abigail yesterday. Did you find her to be slow?”
A slow smile formed on his face. “Not at all. Abigail is quick and efficient. In fact, I’d hire her as my assistant.”
Abigail blushed at the compliment and spooned sugar into Miss Harrington’s cup, stirring quickly before handing it over.
Miss Harrington sighed in disgust. “The cream?”
Abigail reached for the creamer and handed it to her. “This way, ye’ll be sure to pour yourself the correct amount.” She straightened and gave her attention to Adelia. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, Abigail, I believe we are fine for now.”
Rebecca poured the cream into her tea, set the small pitcher on the table, then picked up a spoon, stirring with measured precision. She looked around the room as if she hadn’t just insulted both Adelia and Abigail. “I trust you’ll let me know if you need any help with the planning?”
Chastity choked on her sip of tea. “What?! ” She looked at Adelia, jaw slack.
Adelia let out a tiny sigh of exasperation. “Your help won’t be needed. Now that I have Ewart to assist me, all is in hand.”
“What does a man know about planning a wedding?” Miss Harrington scoffed.
“He follows instructions quite well,” Adelia said with a sly smile. “Even for mere novelist and theson of a baron.”
Miss Harrington sputtered, spewing a bit of tea before coughing.
“Oh dear,” Adelia deadpanned. “Do be careful.”
Ewart pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.Obviously, this Miss Harrington was not popular among present company.
Wait a minute.What did Adelia just say?
“ Son of a baron?! ” Miss Harrington cried.
Ewart shut his eyes for a brief moment. Great. Just great.
When he opened them, Miss Harrington’s head had snapped toward him. “You’re British. And theson of a baron?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I daresay I am.”
“But… but… you’re working for Mrs. Pettigrew?” She sat back, eyes narrowing. “Have you been disowned?”
He laughed, unable to help it. “Not at all. I decided to pay America a visit and work my way from east to west while I work on my book. But that doesn’t mean I can’t stop here and settle.”
“But… if you’re abaron…” Miss Harrington sputtered. “Aren’t you…I mean, wouldn’t you…?” She stopped, closed her eyes, and clenched her fists. “Are you the eldest son?”
He rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “I am.”
Miss Harrington’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at him as if she’d like to secure him and roast him on a spit. There was a gleam in her eye he recognized immediately.
Why did Adelia have to tell her he was the son of a baron? Come to think of it, whydid he just confirm he was the eldest son? Of course, he was also the only son, but what did that matter?
Now she knew. And now the woman would give himnopeace.