was all over.
Weddings were not his favourite things. Not since that quiet little chapel in Spain.
He glanced back at the open door and the ray of sunlight that seemed to beckon him to freedom, but it was too late. A maidservant suddenly came scurrying out of the servants’ corridor, her arms full of roses and lilies bound up in paper. Jamie stepped back, but she collided with him anyway and the flowers fell in a scatter of pink and white over the floor.
‘Oh, laws, but you scared me!’ she cried. ‘I didn’t half expect anyone to be there.’
‘I am so very sorry,’ Jamie said ruefully. What a beginning he was making of his homecoming! ‘Here, let me help you.’
He started to kneel down to gather the flowers, but the girl let out another shriek. ‘Are you a ghost?’ she said, and Jamie looked up to see that she had covered her face with her hands.
‘I—no,’ Jamie said, completely bemused. ‘Sometimes I feel rather like one, but I am told I’m still alive.’
‘You look like the one in that painting that’s all draped in black and such,’ the girl sobbed. She peeked between her hands and shook her head. ‘I swear that’s you!’
His portrait was hung in black? Before Jamie could ask the girl about it, or tell her to pinch him to show her he was alive, he heard Mrs Stratton call, ‘Mary! What are you doing making so much noise out there?’
Jamie heard the rustle of fabric and looked up to find the housekeeper standing in the doorway. She looked so much as she had on those long-ago days of childhood wildness, her blonde hair mixed with silver, her blue eyes kind. She stared at him with her mouth open, a rare instance of discomposure from the woman who had run Castonbury with such efficiency for so long.
‘I am sorry, Mrs Stratton,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I startled her.’
‘L-Lord Hatherton?’ she whispered. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It is me,’ Jamie said. He could think of nothing else to say, nothing that could smooth his homecoming. ‘I’m sorry to have arrived at such an inconvenient time. I understand a wedding is imminent.’
Mrs Stratton shook her head, her eyes bright. ‘We thought never to see you again, my lord. Any moment you arrived would be...’ She shook her head again and seemed to compose herself. ‘Welcome back to Castonbury, my lord.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Stratton. It’s...’ Strange? Difficult? Painful? ‘...good to be back.’
Mrs Stratton reached down for the maid’s arm and pulled her to her feet. ‘Stop that caterwauling at once, girl. It is only Lord Hatherton. You need to gather those flowers immediately and see that they get to Ellen for arranging. They need to be in the drawing room well before tonight’s dinner party.’
Mary gave a squeak and hurriedly scooped up the flowers before she ran off.
‘A dinner party?’ Jamie said in alarm.
‘Merely a small dinner, my lord,’ Mrs Stratton said. ‘The family is upstairs getting dressed after an afternoon in the gardens. Your father will probably not attend, I think.’
Jamie remembered what Harry had said about their father’s health, that he seldom left his rooms these days. ‘Is he unwell today?’
‘No, it has been rather a good day for the duke, my lord. He is excited about the wedding, as we all are. But he does have his good times and his bad times.’ Mrs Stratton gave him a smile. ‘I am sure seeing you will make this the best of days.’
Another twinge of guilt touched Jamie. ‘I hope I can be of help now that I am home, Mrs Stratton. I will try to stay out of the way for the wedding.’
‘Nonsense, my lord! You could never be in the way. You were always the best behaved of all the Montague children.’
Jamie laughed wryly, remembering all his childhood pranks. ‘I fear you are too kind to me.’
‘Not at all.’ Mrs Stratton’s eyes were suspiciously bright again, but she shook her head and said, ‘Shall I take you to the duke, then, my lord? He likes to have a
Weddings were not his favourite things. Not since that quiet little chapel in Spain.
He glanced back at the open door and the ray of sunlight that seemed to beckon him to freedom, but it was too late. A maidservant suddenly came scurrying out of the servants’ corridor, her arms full of roses and lilies bound up in paper. Jamie stepped back, but she collided with him anyway and the flowers fell in a scatter of pink and white over the floor.
‘Oh, laws, but you scared me!’ she cried. ‘I didn’t half expect anyone to be there.’
‘I am so very sorry,’ Jamie said ruefully. What a beginning he was making of his homecoming! ‘Here, let me help you.’
He started to kneel down to gather the flowers, but the girl let out another shriek. ‘Are you a ghost?’ she said, and Jamie looked up to see that she had covered her face with her hands.
‘I—no,’ Jamie said, completely bemused. ‘Sometimes I feel rather like one, but I am told I’m still alive.’
‘You look like the one in that painting that’s all draped in black and such,’ the girl sobbed. She peeked between her hands and shook her head. ‘I swear that’s you!’
His portrait was hung in black? Before Jamie could ask the girl about it, or tell her to pinch him to show her he was alive, he heard Mrs Stratton call, ‘Mary! What are you doing making so much noise out there?’
Jamie heard the rustle of fabric and looked up to find the housekeeper standing in the doorway. She looked so much as she had on those long-ago days of childhood wildness, her blonde hair mixed with silver, her blue eyes kind. She stared at him with her mouth open, a rare instance of discomposure from the woman who had run Castonbury with such efficiency for so long.
‘I am sorry, Mrs Stratton,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I startled her.’
‘L-Lord Hatherton?’ she whispered. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It is me,’ Jamie said. He could think of nothing else to say, nothing that could smooth his homecoming. ‘I’m sorry to have arrived at such an inconvenient time. I understand a wedding is imminent.’
Mrs Stratton shook her head, her eyes bright. ‘We thought never to see you again, my lord. Any moment you arrived would be...’ She shook her head again and seemed to compose herself. ‘Welcome back to Castonbury, my lord.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Stratton. It’s...’ Strange? Difficult? Painful? ‘...good to be back.’
Mrs Stratton reached down for the maid’s arm and pulled her to her feet. ‘Stop that caterwauling at once, girl. It is only Lord Hatherton. You need to gather those flowers immediately and see that they get to Ellen for arranging. They need to be in the drawing room well before tonight’s dinner party.’
Mary gave a squeak and hurriedly scooped up the flowers before she ran off.
‘A dinner party?’ Jamie said in alarm.
‘Merely a small dinner, my lord,’ Mrs Stratton said. ‘The family is upstairs getting dressed after an afternoon in the gardens. Your father will probably not attend, I think.’
Jamie remembered what Harry had said about their father’s health, that he seldom left his rooms these days. ‘Is he unwell today?’
‘No, it has been rather a good day for the duke, my lord. He is excited about the wedding, as we all are. But he does have his good times and his bad times.’ Mrs Stratton gave him a smile. ‘I am sure seeing you will make this the best of days.’
Another twinge of guilt touched Jamie. ‘I hope I can be of help now that I am home, Mrs Stratton. I will try to stay out of the way for the wedding.’
‘Nonsense, my lord! You could never be in the way. You were always the best behaved of all the Montague children.’
Jamie laughed wryly, remembering all his childhood pranks. ‘I fear you are too kind to me.’
‘Not at all.’ Mrs Stratton’s eyes were suspiciously bright again, but she shook her head and said, ‘Shall I take you to the duke, then, my lord? He likes to have a
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