Chapter Two
Lady Mary
“Good gracious.” I pressed my hand to my thumping heart. “There’s no need to scream down the rafters. It is only Mr. Evans.”
The man in question ambled in sheepishly, clutching something to his chest, his shoulders curled around it. He shut the doors and the whirlwind sweeping about the room stilled. “I apologize for startling you. The wind took the doors from my hand, opening them harder than I would have liked.”
Miss Walker pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, goodness. My heart nearly stopped.”
Mr. Taylor busied himself relighting the candles in the candelabra along the wall.
Perrin went to the sideboard and poured himself another glass of wormwood wine. “You look a disaster. And you’re dripping all over my floors.” He sniffed. “What were you doing out in the storm?” He went back to his chair and dropped onto it heavily.
“I thought I saw something moving out the window of the library.” Mr. Evans held up the bundle he cradled. When the beast caught sight of me, it started to wriggle. “And I was right. Southey was caught out in the rain.”
All the women in the room cooed: all except me.
That dog had been underfoot ever since I’d arrived, putting tiny holes in my gowns and slippers and nearly sending me down a flight of stairs.
The little black terrier might be a fetching-looking dog, and was undoubtedly proficient at his job as he’d left a dead mouse on my bedroom’s doorstep, but frankly, I would have preferred the rodents.
“Well, don’t let him—”
Mr. Evans bent and let Southey jump to the floor.
“—go.” I watched with dread as the dog raced around the corner of a settee and headed straight for me.
He made to jump onto my lap, but a cleverly placed elbow dissuaded him from that action.
Instead, he stood in front of me and shook with all his might.
It started with his head, the swinging to and fro moving down through his spine, until only his rear end vibrated.
He sat back on his haunches and panted happily up at me.
Jaw clenched, I removed my spectacles and dried them with my handkerchief. There was nothing I could do for my gown.
I leveled a glare at the man who had brought the fur demon into the room. Mr. Henry Evans had been at Perrin Manor when I’d arrived. He was Perrin’s attorney and here to draw up a marriage contract if the gossip of the servants could be trusted.
I looked to the woman on the other end of that contract.
Miss Katherine Smith had much to recommend herself to becoming the wife of an earl. Most significantly, a sizeable fortune. Her father was a wealthy man of business who had already successfully married off his two elder daughters to peers.
Not that the woman herself didn’t have her own charms. A little shorter than my own five foot five inches, Miss Smith had honey-colored hair and a healthy figure.
She couldn’t have been older than five and twenty, but her large, brown eyes held the wariness of someone much older. Or perhaps what I saw was sadness.
That wariness was on display when Mr. Taylor again seated himself next to her, turning an unctuous smile her way, and she popped to her feet.
I nodded. If she wanted to marry the earl, she couldn’t let his secretary make cow eyes at her.
Miss Smith went to the oil lamp on Perrin’s right side and lengthened the wick, making the light flare.
Perrin flinched. “Turn that damn thing down.”
Miss Smith blinked, but did as he asked. “As you wish,” she replied, a hint of ice in her voice.
Perrin groped for her hand. “I apologize, my dear. It’s been a long day.”
Miss Smith smiled tightly while sliding her hand free. “Of course.” She left Perrin’s side and stood by me.
“Indeed, it has been a long day.” Miss Walker rose and took Miss Smith’s place by Perrin’s side. “After calling for the servants to bring a hot bath for Mr. Evans, how about I direct them to set one up for you, as well? It will do you good on a night like this.”
I blinked. Even for close neighbors, ordering a man’s bath was a bit presumptuous. All Miss Walker needed was a chatelaine fastened to her waist and her image as mistress of the manor would be complete.
My brother-in-law must have felt the same and disapproved. Perrin pushed to standing. “I don’t need anyone telling me what is good for me.” Frowning, he tromped from the room, his shoulder bumping into the doorframe.
Miss Walker swallowed and looked down at her clasped hands.
“Well, a hot bath sounds good to me,” Mr. Evans said kindly. “Chasing after dogs has left me drenched to the bone. I’ll pop down to the kitchen to ask—”
“I’ll do it.” Miss Walker lifted her chin. “And ask someone to dry those puddles you’ve brought in.” She strode from the room.
Southey watched her go before returning his attention to my new lace trim.
The attorney ran his hand up the back of his wet head. “Well, I guess I’ll go clean up.” He moved just as Miss Smith did, the two almost bumping into each other. He moved left just as she moved right. He went right as she stepped left.
Miss Smith stepped back, sighing heavily. “This won’t do. ‘And Benjamin, among the stars, beheld a dancing, and a glancing, such retreating and advancing—’”
“—‘As, I ween, was never seen, in bloodiest battle since the day of Mars,’” Mr. Evans finished.
Miss Smith’s eyebrows shot up. “You read modern poetry?”
Mr. Evans arched his own dark eyebrow. “I may not have attended Eton, Miss Smith, but even us lowly solicitors enjoy reading. In fact, it is what we are best trained to do.”
Miss Smith crossed her arms over her chest. “Clearly. An Eton man would know to formally request a dance. And provide some music.”
“Next time then.” The attorney swept a magnificent leg, bowing deeply, with his arm extended to allow her to pass.
Miss Smith’s lips twitched as she walked past him to the sideboard.
“Good evening,” Mr. Evans said to the rest of us, and left the room, a trail of water following after him.
“Well, at least we’ve had some entertainment.” Lady Havenstone pursed her lips. “And that Miss Walker seems awfully familiar with the household doings of Perrin Manor.”
Her husband nudged her, and jerked his head toward Miss Smith. “I’m sure it’s just the familiarity from living so close to Perrin Manor.”
The lady colored. “Oh, yes, I’m certain you’re right, of course.”
“Don’t be certain on my account.” Miss Smith picked up a napkin and unfolded it.
She returned to my chair and knelt beside Southey.
“While I am only a guest in this house, Miss Walker can be as familiar as she wishes.” She took a bit of this evening’s dinner from the napkin, a chunk of overcooked chicken, and fed it to the dog.
Southey wolfed it down, not seeming to mind the inferior cooking.
Lady Havenstone scooted to the edge of her seat. “But aren’t you to become the mistress of this house? Heed my warning, a neighbor like that will be trouble.”
And if the baroness hadn’t looked so gleeful at the idea of said trouble, her warning might have had greater effect.
Miss Smith finished feeding Southey and refolded the napkin. “Nothing is settled as yet.” She rose to her feet. “I’m going to check on my father. The last time he played billiards, he broke his cue stick in anger.” With a nod and a tight smile, she departed.
I shook my foot, dislodging Southey. The girl didn’t seem as eager to wed an earl as I would have expected. But Perrin was over twice her age. I could see how that would be hard on a young woman.
Lady Havenstone sat back in her chair. “My advice was well-intended.” She lifted her chin.
Lord Havenstone patted her shoulder before making his own exit. Mr. Taylor and Bertram began making their excuses until only I and Lady Havenstone remained.
“Well, this is the dreariest party I’ve ever attended.” Lady Havenstone poked at the bowl of nuts next to her and picked out an almond. “Though we have days yet. It could become more lively.”
“Yes.” Or it could be a full week of tedium.
I wondered how Jane, my lady’s maid, was spending her time.
She was bound to have better conversation than this.
It was times like these that had me especially missing my club.
The Minerva Club was never lacking in interesting conversation.
I had just resolved to retire myself when Miss Smith hurried back in, dropping onto a settee.
Southey trotted over to her and sniffed her feet.
My eyebrows drew together. “Are you all right? You look quite flushed.”
Miss Smith smiled tightly. “I’m quite well.” She bent and picked up the dog, settling him on her lap.
Mr. Taylor strolled in, and Miss Smith tensed.
Ah. More unwanted advances from the secretary. That man had more bollocks than brains if he made an avid pursuit of his employer’s affianced. It almost made me respect the man.
Mr. Taylor wandered about the room, adjusting a picture, poking at the fire. When he came near my seat, he picked up the knife that lay on the side table. “You couldn’t get anyone to join you in throwing practice, Lady Mary?” A smile curved his lips.
I looked sadly at the knife. It had a three-inch blade and a lovely mother-of-pearl handle. The balance was excellent, and from what I’d learned from the classes at my club, would have made an excellent throwing knife. “You heard Perrin. Not in his house. Maybe if the weather clears tomorrow….”
Mr. Taylor tossed it back on the table with a rattle. “Well, I suppose I will go to bed. Good evening, ladies.” He might have bowed before he left the room; it might have been the curved set of his shoulders that made it appear so.
I tapped my fingers on the arm of my chair. Another week of this tedium would be untenable.
“Dash it all.” Lady Havenstone stood. “I always say, when in doubt, eat. Instead of twiddling our thumbs, let’s go see if any of the sweets remain in the dining room.”
As the dining room was just next door, I had no objection.
Lady Havenstone, Miss Smith, and I went through the adjoining doors, the dog trailing behind.
With a stomach full of bite-sized tarts, even those of marginal quality, I found myself in a much better mood.
It helped that Miss Smith doted on Southey, keeping his attentions, and his sharp little teeth, elsewhere.
I was even amenable to Lady Havenstone’s suggestion of reading aloud for the remainder of the evening.
“But let’s not continue with Frankenstein,” I said. “I’m in the mood for something cheerier. If we keep reading that book, we’re liable to see specters and hear banshees and all manner of horrors while we’re lying in our beds.”
The horrors didn’t wait until we were snug abed.
A woman’s scream tore through our cheerful reading.
We ignored the crashing sound from the adjoining sitting room and ran out into the main hall, to the source of the yelling.
A maid and two footmen were clustered together at the base of the stairs leading up to the first floor.
I hurried toward them as people drifted from other parts of the house to investigate the noise, as well. I paused next to the young maid, wrapping my arm around her shaking shoulders.
Because there, at the foot of the staircase, lay Lord Perrin. His eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. A knife with a mother-of-pearl handle stuck out from his chest.