compared to Cook’s food.’
‘It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your appetite,’ Belinda said wryly.
Oliver wiped his lips on a linen table napkin. ‘I think it might be best if I go and stay with Aunt Flo for a few days, Belle. All things considered, it might give Pater a chance to cool down.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea.’ Belinda tugged at the embroidered bell pull by the fireplace. ‘I’ll send for the carriage.’
‘Are you coming with me then?’ Oliver glanced up from his plate.
Belinda nodded her head. An idea had come to her and she wondered why she had not thought of it before.
Flora Fulford-Browne sat in a wingback chair by the fire, smoking a small black cheroot, and taking sips from a cut-crystal brandy glass. She eyed her nephew with unconcealed amusement. ‘So you’ve been expelled from Eton, Ollie. I’m not surprised you’ve come to seek sanctuary in my house.’
‘I knew you’d understand,’ Oliver said happily. ‘The pater ain’t at all happy about it.’
‘He’ll get over it.’ Flora held her glass out to him. ‘Make yourself useful then, my boy. Pour me another snifter and then Poulton will find you a room. If there isn’t one free then I’m afraid you’ll have to share with someone.’
Belinda shifted on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘What sort of person would he share with, Flora? I mean, Geoffrey would be very angry with me if I allowed him to put you out in any way.’
‘Or if he were to share a room with one of my protégés,’ Flora said, smiling. ‘I know exactly what Geoffrey thinks of me and my household, although it didn’t seem to worry him when he left Ollie with me and toddled off to India.’
Oliver had been attempting to pour a measure of brandy into the glass but his concentration faltered and he spilled some on the silver salver. ‘I don’t want to put you out, Aunt Flo.’
‘Don’t waste good cognac. That’s one of the first lessons you’ll have to learn if you’re to stay here for any length of time.’ Flora held out her hand to take the glass from him. ‘You’ll be fine here, Ollie. I’m sure we can squeeze you in somewhere, even if you have to share with the boot boy.’ She tossed the butt of her cheroot into the fire. ‘I’m teasing you, silly. Now go along and find Poulton, he’ll look after you.’
As the door closed on Oliver, Belinda was still anxious. ‘He’s very young,’ she said carefully. ‘And some of your acquaintances are rather . . . er . . .’
‘Bohemian?’ Flora raised an eyebrow. ‘Stop worrying about him and tell me why you came here today, Belinda.’
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘My dear girl, it’s too late in the afternoon for a social call, and you could have sent Ollie on his own. After all he lived here for the first five years of his life, so it’s not like sending him to the Antipodes. And you are troubled. I can see it in your eyes. Is it my brother? Does he beat you or is he having an illicit liaison with Adele Pettifer?’
The ridiculousness of this question wrought an involuntary giggle from Belinda. It was common knowledge amongst his family and close friends that Sir Geoffrey loathed Adele, and that the feeling was mutual. ‘No, of course not, Flora,’ she said hastily. ‘Geoffrey wouldn’t think of such a thing.’
Flora took another cheroot from a silver box on the table beside her chair and lit it with a spill from the fire. She inhaled and then exhaled with a satisfied sigh. ‘You don’t smoke, do you? No, I thought not, but maybe you should try it. Very good for the nerves and yours are apparently on edge. Now tell me what’s bothering you, child.’
‘I’m twenty-seven,’ Belinda protested.
‘And I’m sixty-two, six years Geoffrey’s senior and more than twice your age, and I know a thing or two about life and love. Heaven knows I’ve had three husbands and outlived the lot of them, so I am an expert in my field.’ She leaned forward, fixing
‘It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your appetite,’ Belinda said wryly.
Oliver wiped his lips on a linen table napkin. ‘I think it might be best if I go and stay with Aunt Flo for a few days, Belle. All things considered, it might give Pater a chance to cool down.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea.’ Belinda tugged at the embroidered bell pull by the fireplace. ‘I’ll send for the carriage.’
‘Are you coming with me then?’ Oliver glanced up from his plate.
Belinda nodded her head. An idea had come to her and she wondered why she had not thought of it before.
Flora Fulford-Browne sat in a wingback chair by the fire, smoking a small black cheroot, and taking sips from a cut-crystal brandy glass. She eyed her nephew with unconcealed amusement. ‘So you’ve been expelled from Eton, Ollie. I’m not surprised you’ve come to seek sanctuary in my house.’
‘I knew you’d understand,’ Oliver said happily. ‘The pater ain’t at all happy about it.’
‘He’ll get over it.’ Flora held her glass out to him. ‘Make yourself useful then, my boy. Pour me another snifter and then Poulton will find you a room. If there isn’t one free then I’m afraid you’ll have to share with someone.’
Belinda shifted on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘What sort of person would he share with, Flora? I mean, Geoffrey would be very angry with me if I allowed him to put you out in any way.’
‘Or if he were to share a room with one of my protégés,’ Flora said, smiling. ‘I know exactly what Geoffrey thinks of me and my household, although it didn’t seem to worry him when he left Ollie with me and toddled off to India.’
Oliver had been attempting to pour a measure of brandy into the glass but his concentration faltered and he spilled some on the silver salver. ‘I don’t want to put you out, Aunt Flo.’
‘Don’t waste good cognac. That’s one of the first lessons you’ll have to learn if you’re to stay here for any length of time.’ Flora held out her hand to take the glass from him. ‘You’ll be fine here, Ollie. I’m sure we can squeeze you in somewhere, even if you have to share with the boot boy.’ She tossed the butt of her cheroot into the fire. ‘I’m teasing you, silly. Now go along and find Poulton, he’ll look after you.’
As the door closed on Oliver, Belinda was still anxious. ‘He’s very young,’ she said carefully. ‘And some of your acquaintances are rather . . . er . . .’
‘Bohemian?’ Flora raised an eyebrow. ‘Stop worrying about him and tell me why you came here today, Belinda.’
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘My dear girl, it’s too late in the afternoon for a social call, and you could have sent Ollie on his own. After all he lived here for the first five years of his life, so it’s not like sending him to the Antipodes. And you are troubled. I can see it in your eyes. Is it my brother? Does he beat you or is he having an illicit liaison with Adele Pettifer?’
The ridiculousness of this question wrought an involuntary giggle from Belinda. It was common knowledge amongst his family and close friends that Sir Geoffrey loathed Adele, and that the feeling was mutual. ‘No, of course not, Flora,’ she said hastily. ‘Geoffrey wouldn’t think of such a thing.’
Flora took another cheroot from a silver box on the table beside her chair and lit it with a spill from the fire. She inhaled and then exhaled with a satisfied sigh. ‘You don’t smoke, do you? No, I thought not, but maybe you should try it. Very good for the nerves and yours are apparently on edge. Now tell me what’s bothering you, child.’
‘I’m twenty-seven,’ Belinda protested.
‘And I’m sixty-two, six years Geoffrey’s senior and more than twice your age, and I know a thing or two about life and love. Heaven knows I’ve had three husbands and outlived the lot of them, so I am an expert in my field.’ She leaned forward, fixing
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