A Regency Match by Elizabeth Mansfield Page B

mind. He pushed aside his teacup and faced his mother purposefully. “I say, Mama,” he began, “did you mean it when you said you don’t mind having a houseful of guests descend upon you?”
    â€œOf course I don’t mind, dearest,” she assured him with her customary serenity. “I shall enjoy every moment. What better way could I find to celebrate my only son’s betrothal?”
    Marcus rose and went to her chair. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek affectionately. “I’m more grateful than I can say. I’ve come a week early so that I can help you with the preparations.”
    â€œThere was no need for that, silly boy,” she said, patting his hand, “although I’m delighted to have you here. Mrs. Cresley and the butler can handle all the details, you know.”
    Marcus winced. It was just like his mother to expect things to fall into place without any effort on her part. She had an unshakable faith that everything she undertook would turn out right. Any efforts she would make, she believed, would merely interfere with the smooth workings of Providence. Since Providence would provide, there was no need for her to exert herself. “It might be of some help to Mrs. Cresley,” Marcus suggested mildly, returning to his chair, “if we worked out some menus together.”
    Lady Wynwood was having some difficulties with her shawl which kept slipping from her shoulders. “Very well, if you think we should,” she agreed absently while she fiddled with it.
    â€œAnd we could plan a few outings. You know … to keep the guests happy and busy during the days. Things like riding, sightseeing, that sort of thing …”
    â€œWhat a very good idea,” she acknowledged, looking up from her shoulder with a smile.
    â€œAnd bedrooms,” Marcus persisted. “We should think about where to put people, don’t you agree? We want to make them comfortable, you know. By the way, how many have you invited so far?”
    â€œNo one, dearest,” she replied, still occupied with her shawl. “I told you I would leave all that to you.”
    â€œBut you wrote that some friends of yours were coming down—”
    Lady Wynwood looked up at him, wrinkling her brow in concentration. “I don’t remember writing … Oh, yes! You mean Alicia. Yes, of course, Alicia is coming. She’s my best and oldest friend—we must have her .”
    â€œOh? Is she the only one coming?” Marcus asked hopefully.
    â€œWell, there’s her granddaughter, of course. One couldn’t expect Alicia to leave her behind. And Walter and Isabel—”
    Marcus sighed. “Walter and Isabel?”
    â€œYes. Alicia’s younger son, you know, and his wife. They’ve been away for years … India, I believe … so I thought, as a sort of welcome—”
    â€œThat makes four. Well, I suppose four can be managed.” He fixed his eyes on his mother’s face and asked firmly. “Are there any more? Think now!”
    â€œLet me see. I think … I’m almost certain that Walter and Isabel have a son. He’ll be coming too, I expect,” Lady Wynwood murmured and turned her attention to her shawl again.
    â€œConfound it, that makes five! Are you sure that’s all?”
    Lady Wynwood pressed a finger to her lips thoughtfully, causing the wayward shawl to slip from her shoulders again. “Well, I … I think that’s all. Or … did I ask the Carringtons too?”
    â€œThe Carringtons ? Good Lord, Mama, there are six of them!” Marcus groaned in anguish.
    â€œNo … no, wait. The Carringtons are not coming this month. I think they said they’d be abroad ’til summer.”
    â€œWhew!” Marcus breathed in relief. “That’s a bit of luck. So that leaves five, then. With Julian, the Bethunes, Dennis and us, we’ll