Chapter 25
Leo’s mansion isn’t far from Cambridge. The same carriage that took us from the train station to the college meets us there again, with chaperone, and sweeps us away into the green countryside.
We amble through an open metal gate, the iron a little rusted, but still grand because of the scale and the intricacy of his family crest displayed on it, and Leo nudges my foot with his.
“If you would like to look out the window, the best view of the house is from right here.” He sounds tentative…
maybe nervous? Of how I’ll respond to his house?
It’s historic. I’m going to enjoy it whatever style, size or interior decoration scheme he has. While still thinking that the wealth required to build it is inherently unethical. I’m contradictory like that.
I stick my head out of the window as I was so gently implored to do. At first the wind catches my hat, pushing part of it down over my face, and some of its feathers firmly into my mouth.
I swat at the impractical garment and spit out feathers, only succeeding at the task when I rip it off my head entirely. I quickly forget about my internal tirade against the centuries-long irritation of women’s fashion when I see what’s in front of me.
It’s beautiful. The three-story, English Baroque, beige stone building has two wings protruding forward from a central building.
Like the house wants to give me a giant welcoming hug, and I want to hug it back.
Rows of tall windows wink at me in the afternoon sun, and in the middle directly in front of me, a giant dome watches over it all.
Small statues (but probably still huge since I can see them from this far away) line the top of the house. Famous Alstons and Cliffords, most likely. Making an army of family members watching over and judging their descendants. And their guests.
The carriage moves up the drive to the front entrance, where the staircase starts wide and then narrows to a grand door.
The facade has built-in columns that span the height of the building, ending in a triglyph and metope frieze on the top to rival the Parthenon, with a pediment in the middle, above the frieze.
I want to see what the carved scenes on the metopes are more than I want my next meal.
I try to find out now. By leaning farther and farther out the window until my entire torso is out of the moving carriage. Strong hands grasp my waist before I can fall out of the vehicle onto the hard, unforgiving ground below.
Although with all my layers, I’ve never been more ready for a fall.
Surprisingly, all these layers don’t do much to dull my response to Leo’s touch, and I can feel the solid strength of every one of his fingers digging into my waist. Causing my heart to beat louder than the sound of the eight horse hooves trotting along the dirt road.
His fingers should feel like manacles trapping me, but instead they’re protective, like he wants to make sure I don’t hurt myself when I’m lost in my curiosity.
“I take it you approve?” he asks wryly from behind me.
“It’s amazing,” I say with reverence. “Can you hand me my paper and pen?”
“Not until you get back inside. But I promise you can have all the time you want to explore. As long as you do not fall and crack your head open right now. Then you will only get to see one room, and it will be whichever one has a doctor inside it.”
I consider ignoring Leo. It’s pretty out here. And so perfect I half-think I’m imagining it, but as long as I don’t blink or look away, it can’t disappear. But the hands at my waist are getting more insistent about my return, so I give in with a sigh and let them pull me back into boring safety.
“It’s beautiful,” I say to Leo.
Leo puffs out, accepting the praise even though it’s clearly meant for an ancestor I don’t know who built it, and more importantly, that ancestor’s architect.
“This level of wealth is still unethical,” I say, just in case his ego gets too big and crushes and/or suffocates Anne and me in the small space.
“Can I enjoy the happiness it gives you since I personally have no wealth?” His chest hasn’t deflated at all, my volley unsuccessful in managing his ego.
“No. Still unethical, what with your tenants doing all the work.”
“Well, wait until you get to the ocular excess that is the interior. And as promised, for your reentry into the carriage.” Leo presents me with my own notebook and pen, which he must have asked Anne about since she had it last time I checked.
He bows over the materials as he extends the gift, presenting it with all the gravity of the formal court world he’s a part of, even though I’m no one and we’re talking about a journal.
Apparently, aristocrats only have one speed.
That doesn’t stop me from taking the book from him, even though he does get an eye roll for his pomposity. He winks at me, letting me know the exaggerated movements were done for my effect.
I open the book and write down my first impressions and badly drawn doodles of what I’m seeing, leaning my head out of the window but keeping all other body parts in the vehicle, as instructed.
I comply more out of fear that Leo will touch me again and send me into a haze of lust so thick I’ll be stunned into accepting that I’m a Victorian now, than of fear of falling and physically injuring myself.
Leo patiently waits when we get to the front of the manor, giving me an extra ten minutes to finish my notes even though I keep lying to him and saying I only need another minute.
This is the house of a half-Indian marquess after all.
It’s important to record so I can analyze it later. Even if it’s just for myself.
His “of courses” get less and less credulous as time goes on, but he doesn’t pressure me to finish so we can go inside. And he doesn’t even have a phone to stare at while we wait.
That should be an example in a chivalry book.
Finally, my last “One more minute” is true, and I close the book. “All done.” I realize I’m also holding Anne up as well. “Sorry, everyone. Time got a little away from me there.”
“This is your trip. For whatever you want or need.”
I nod, acknowledging I heard the sweet not-a-rake, but not wanting to verbally respond since it would be a mess of giggling and infatuated looks.
Leo accepts that as a response, getting out of the carriage and then turning around to help me out. Heaven forbid I try to get out myself. It would probably cause chaos and the fall of the Empire, like if those ravens at the Tower of London went away.
Wait till I tell him it’s going to fall anyway.
Not that I would. Even though I’ve relaxed my paranoia about ruining the future by sneezing at the wrong time, I shouldn’t give away that piece of information; it’s too big. No matter how satisfying it would be to tell it straight to Charles’s smug face.
Instead, I take Leo’s hand with a smile. My smile gets wider as I get a closer look at the house behind him. Not because it’s better, it’s just less complicated than the man in front of me.
The door swings opens and Leo’s employees flood onto the stairs, seamlessly moving around us to deal with the carriage and our luggage.
A man who I assume is the butler approaches Leo and gives him a bow. “My lord. How good to see you again so soon after your last visit.”
“Thank you. Apologies for the lack of notice. We did not make the decision to stay until today.”
“Whatever you need, my lord. Your room is being prepared right now.”
“Excellent. Let’s set up the Rose Room for our guest, as well as a room for her chaperone.”
Albert inclines his head. “Of course.”
“And call Mrs. Garnett to come and give our guests her famous tour.”
“Of course.”
“Perfect. And arrange for dinner after they are done with the tour.”
“An early dinner then, my lord?”
“It will not be the way this woman takes a tour.”
I’m distracted from sketching his pediment by the words I’m not sure are an insult or a compliment. Leo’s face doesn’t reveal anything other than a slight amusement. “Thank you?” There. That covers my bases.
“I ’eard ye needed me?” An older woman with a warm smile and a deep Scottish brogue walks up to us, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Always. This is my guest, Her Royal Highness, Princess Meera Chopra. Of India. And this is the woman who raised me, Mrs. Garnett.” He gives Mrs. Garnett an affectionate nod, and then says, “Can you please show her around? Feel free to tell her all the salacious details of our history.”
Mrs. Garnett claps her hands. “Ah. The things ye don’t usually let me tell the polite tourists. This’ll be fun.”
“He’s already told me about the origin of the family title,” I whisper to Mrs. Garnett.
“Then he’s already taken my best story! There’re scones in the kitchen and some fresh preserves.
Go.” She swats Leo away from her. “Let me give this tour in peace. For yer special friend you’ve brought home, quite suddenly.
” She eyes me like she would rather hear the salacious story of who I am and why he brought me here.
“This tour might be a tad bit different. I expect she will have loads of questions about everything and want to stop and take copious notes along the way. Please indulge her.”
“Then we’ll take our time, so you can ask all the questions ye want. We’ll start in the hall.”
The interior of the house is as stunning as the exterior.
It looks like the Carrara marble quarry threw up inside the main hall, with blindingly white columns, statues and busts all popping against the beige limestone walls.
The marble competes with the bright colors of the paintings, both on canvass and the murals in the dome.
Which in turn in is competition with the furniture, with its gold details, embroidered fabric and intricate carvings.
And that’s just the hall. The rest of the rooms are more of the same, except with the addition of silk damask wallpaper so the walls aren’t bare.