A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (48 page)

Alex inhaled deeply and enjoyed the
newness of life in the air. The scents of spring were heady, even
amongst the old structures they surrounded—Roundstone had been
built more than two centuries before.

The head groom met Alex at the entry
to the stables. “Good afternoon, my lord. I trust you enjoyed your
ride today.” He reached up to take the reins from Alex as he
dismounted.

“
Yes, thank you. Is Lord
Rotheby at home this afternoon?” Alex took long strides across the
lawn, not expecting a response. If the groom gave one, he didn’t
hear it. He wanted to see the old man and learn why his company had
been requested—nay, commanded.

More than anything, Alex eagerly
anticipated catching up with the earl. The two had always had a
unique bond. The time they spent together was special to them
both.

Jasper, Roundstone’s butler, met him
at the front door. The man had filled the post for the whole of
Alex’s life, and if appearances proved correct, that post would not
be changing hands any time in the foreseeable future, despite the
butler’s curmudgeonly demeanor. He looked set to live the next
century or so.

“
Lord Alexander, his
lordship is awaiting your arrival in the yellow drawing room,”
Jasper said. “I have prepared a suite for you and your valet has
seen your belongings safely delivered there. Would you like to
visit your suite first, or shall you attend to his lordship
immediately?” During the course of this speech, Jasper had deftly
escorted Alex through the door, removed his coat, and sent it off
with a maid to be placed upstairs in the appropriate suite.
Somehow, the butler did all of this without ever saying a word to
the staff or even giving a signal. Roundstone Park always ran
smoothly under the old goat’s tutelage.

“
Thank you, but I believe I
will go in to see Lord Rotheby, if that’s acceptable. I freshened
up at the Brookhurst Inn just a short while ago.” His eagerness
must be evident to the servant, but sometimes such things could not
be helped. And really, who gave a damn?

Jasper would likely be aware of Alex’s
eager demeanor even if the man were blind. He had a knack for
picking up on moods—a skill Alex sometimes found exasperating, but
more often recognized how such a quality in a butler could be
useful. He might enjoy having a butler with such skills himself.
Someday, that is. Someday in the rather distant future, when he had
a home of his own which would need a butler.

“
Very well, my lord. I
believe you remember the way?” Jasper gave Alex a pointed look with
a raised brow, perhaps remembering the way the Hardwicke siblings
had run herd through Roundstone as children.

Alex nodded then turned in the
direction of the parlor. A footman opened the door and announced
him before leaving the two men alone.

A fire burned in the hearth, and a
comfortable, brocade wing chair sat close to the warmth it
radiated. “Come on in, boy, and be sure they close that door behind
you. You are letting in a draft.”

Alex closed the door himself and moved
closer to the voice calling out to him. The earl was bundled
tightly beneath two blankets. His skin held a greyish pallor, and a
sickly smell hung on the air. Not a good sign.

“
Have a seat, have a seat.
Pull another of those chairs over here where I can see
you.”

Alex did as requested—even though he
was more than amply warm, and the proximity to the fire might soon
cause him to be over-warm—keeping a curious eye on Lord Rotheby.
Had he come down with influenza? He hoped not.

The earl gave Alex a thorough
once-over. “Goodness, are you taller than you were at your father’s
funeral? I would not have thought that possible, but my eyes tell
me it is.”

Alex gave a wide smile. The earl
wanted to discuss his height, of all things under the moon? “My
lord, I don’t believe I have grown at all since I turned about
twenty, but my valet could be more certain. He would have had to
adjust my clothes. Shall we ring for him and ask?” He loved to
tease the older man.

“
Lord
Rotheby? Hmph. You are still a cheeky lad, aren’t you? What is
this ‘Lord Rotheby’ business? I told you years ago. You are a man
now, as am I. Call me Gil.” The agitation in his words did not
quite make it through to his voice or his face.

Try as he might, Gil would never pull
off the part of the crotchety old man—at least where Alex and his
siblings were concerned. Others might not agree with that
assessment, but the earl had long ago developed an affinity for the
Hardwicke family.

He lacked the acidity required to be
considered cantankerous in his dealings with them—though rumor had
it that his grandson and heir might have felt a bit of it from time
to time.

Still, Gil could never be
truly cross with Alex, though he had tried to be on a number of
occasions. “All right, Gil it is. Although, my father taught me to
always
respect
my
elders.” He ducked his head as Gil launched a crumpled piece of
parchment at him. They both laughed. “It is excellent to be here
again. It’s been too long. I’ve been in need of a break from Town
for a while, and your invitation arrived with perfect
timing.”

The earl raised an eyebrow at Alex in
an unasked question.

“
Mama is scheming. We’ll
leave it at that for now.”

Gil chuckled, but he didn’t push for
further explanation. Surely, he remembered the dowager duchess’s
plots and plans as well as anyone.

“
So why did you ask me to
visit you?” It didn’t really matter why Gil had asked. Alex had
wanted to come—actually, he had been adamant about the visit. It
would just help him to rest easier if he knew this was just a visit
and nothing more.

“
Does an old man have to
have a reason to ask a friend to visit? Just stay for a while, and
relax. We don’t see each other often enough.”

There was something in Rotheby’s
eyes—something Gil wasn’t telling him.

Hmm. We shall have to see
about that, my friend
. But now was probably
not the best moment to push for answers. He had, after all, just
arrived. There would be plenty of time for such things.

No they certainly did not see each
other often enough.

Chapter Three

Barnes drove Grace in the Kensington
carriage to the front door of New Hill Cottage.

Cottage
was probably not the best term for the structure,
as it could easily host a sizeable house party for society, should
the Kensingtons wish to do so. The structure had two floors and
appeared quite spacious, with a thatched roof, a delicious cream
color with chocolate brown accents, multiple chimneys, and an
exquisite combination of first stone against wood, and then against
stone again.

Grace instantly fell in love with the
thatched windows peeking out over flower gardens that were wild and
unorganized enough to border on being unkempt. Daisies, thistle,
and poppies fought with each other for control of the landscape,
alongside dots of stones, fountains and a delicately carved bird
feeder.

A footman bustled down the stairs to
hand her out of the carriage. After she had safely descended, the
butler who had followed the footman bowed deeply to her. “Good
afternoon, Lady Grace. I trust Barnes did not keep you waiting
overlong. Mason is my name. Your belongings will be taken to your
rooms immediately. If you’re in need of anything, I ask that you
inform me of it right away, ma’am.” Mason nodded smartly to her in
lieu of another bow.

The deference of these
servants at New Hill Cottage left her flustered. She had expected
treatment as an unwelcome, uninvited guest. True, she
was
the daughter of a
marquess and therefore a lady, but Grace had gone a long time
without many servants about—and even longer since the ones who
remained showed her any deference. Perhaps, of course, her aunt and
uncle demanded such conduct from all of their servants. How very
odd—or at least very different from what she had become accustomed
to in her father’s home.

“
Thank you. I am certain
everything will be quite unexceptionable.”

The butler led the way in to the
cottage. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am. Sir Laurence and Lady
Kensington anxiously await your arrival, my lady, but wish for all
of your comforts be seen to before you join them for tea. Please
allow me to introduce our housekeeper, Mrs. Finchley. She will show
you the way to your chamber.” He nodded toward an older woman,
dressed in a plain black gown and white apron.

Her grey hair was knotted in a neat
bun behind her head, and a mobcap that matched her dress perfectly
rested above her chignon. Mrs. Finchley looked upon Grace with a
welcoming smile and a curtsy.

She followed the housekeeper up a
flight of stairs and along a hallway, and instantly felt
comfortable. Handmade quilts and embroidered pillows draped plush
sofas and chairs. These adornments were obviously used on a regular
basis and not simply for display, showing pulls in the lightly
faded fabric and the occasional darned hole—all of which gave them
character. Candles were scattered on desks and tables in positions
where they could easily provide light for letter writing,
needlework, or reading.

Paintings lined the walls, outlined in
gilded frames. Grace stopped before one, wondering what artist had
created them, but then scurried along to keep up with Mrs. Finchley
before she lost sight of the housekeeper. The paintings were of
landscapes and the like. She thought she might have passed some of
the scenes depicted in the artwork on her journey. Perhaps the
artist was someone nearby.

“
I understand your father
did not send a lady’s maid with you, ma’am,” Mrs. Finchley said as
they made their way through the halls. “We have arranged for my
niece, Tess, to fill that role for you, at least on a temporary
basis.”

Grace’s jaw dropped. She never had a
lady’s maid before, and had not even had a governess or a nursemaid
in many years. Why, she had expected to be treated more as a
servant herself than as someone to be served. If, that is, she were
allowed to stay at all.

“
Tess has not served in
such a capacity before,” Mrs. Finchley rushed on, as though Grace’s
shock were that they had already designated who would fill the
role, “but she is a fast learner. If she is not adequate for your
needs, you just let me know and I’ll arrange to find someone more
suitable for you immediately. Will this do?” The housekeeper came
to a stop before a sweetly decorated bedchamber, complete with a
silver mirror and brush set laid out on the vanity. The walls were
a creamy white, with rich rose and sage green accents.
Hand-stitched quilts in the same vibrant colors blanketed the bed,
along with more pillows than she could imagine how she would ever
use.

A young woman with honey-brown hair
and a shy smile stood in the corner. She minced out of the way as a
footman carried in Grace’s small trunk and placed it beneath the
window.

Grace took a tentative look around her
new bedchamber and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, this will more
than suit. Thank you.” Grace might actually be able to rest in a
room like this. Any form of relaxation, these days, had become a
precious commodity.

“
Of course ma’am. I shall
leave you and Tess to it, then.” The housekeeper started to back
out of the room but stilled at the doorway. “Shall I come by when
tea is ready, to show you to the parlor?”

Tea in the parlor? Her aunt and uncle
wished her to enjoy tea with them. Maybe she would not be
immediately turned out, after all. “That would be
lovely.”

“
I assume you would like to
be shown the rest of the cottage as well,” the housekeeper said
with a wink. “I’ll be glad to give you a tour anytime you desire.
Just have Tess inform me when you need anything.”

Mrs. Finchley started to leave again,
but Grace’s call stopped her. “Oh, and Mrs. Finchley? Might I ask
for a bath to be drawn?”

After three days of travel, the only
thing more appealing to Grace than food was a bath. A rather
startling discovery, that. The inn where she had stayed the
previous night had not provided her with a bath (well, to be fair,
she didn’t have enough money left in her reticule to pay for a
bath), and she couldn’t imagine it would be too great an imposition
on the staff—at least she hoped it wouldn’t.

The housekeeper looked scandalized at
Grace’s hesitation. “It has already been ordered, ma’am. The maids
will bring it in shortly.”

Grace turned to Tess as Mrs. Finchley
took her leave of them. The girl was shy, but efficient. She had
already begun to unpack Grace’s clothes.

Tess glanced up at her with a blush
coloring her cheeks. “Shall I place your clothes in the bureau, my
lady?” Before waiting for an answer, the girl started to do just
that.

“
Yes. Thank you,” Grace
replied. “Will you also set out a clean gown for after my bath? The
lilac cotton would be perfect.” She pulled the pins from her hair
and shook away the tension. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the
bed and assisted her lady’s maid with sorting through her
possessions.