trust you will all come to Great Pulteney Street tomorrow evening, then?" he asked.
Lady Holt-Barron almost tripped all over herself in her eagerness to accept. The marquess took his leave five minutes later after they had all-with the exception of Freyja-engaged in a lively discussion of the weather.
"Lady Freyja!" Lady Holt-Barron said, clasping her hands to her bosom, her headache apparently dissipated. "I do believe all will be well after all and no shadow of scandal will be allowed to hang over your head. I even sense that the marquess is smitten by you."
Freyja snorted.
"He is gorgeously handsome," Charlotte said with a sigh.
"My love," her mother said reproachfully. "Remember Frederick."
The absent Frederick Wheatcroft, Charlotte's betrothed, was off shooting with her father and brothers.
Gorgeously handsome, indeed! Too handsome by half. And doubtless he thought now that he could charm her out of her indignation over his trickery-he had oozed charm from every pore of his body. They would see about that.
She should have let him be caught in that wardrobe like a mouse in a trap.
She should have been sure to take an inn room with all the ivy shaved off its outer walls.
She should have punched him in the nose again this morning while she had had the chance.
She should have . . .
She was so desperately glad that there was at least something of interest to look forward to tomorrow. The Marquess of Hallmere might be-and undoubtedly was-all sorts of nasty, unsavory things, but at least he was not bland.
CHAPTER IV
The planned dinner at Lady Potford's was turning into a grand affair as she kept adding names to the guest list.
"You have been the Marquess of Hallmere for longer than six months, Joshua," she explained when he asked if she had one more leaf to add to the dining room table-and perhaps one more wing to add to the dining room itself. "It is high time you took your rightful place in society instead of chasing all over the country in search of amusement with low companions."
"But amusement is so . . . amusing, Grandmama," he said with an exaggerated sigh. He did not add that some of his "low" companions were aristocrats and the sons of aristocrats.
"It is time too that you returned to Penhallow," she said, not for the first time. "It is yours, not just as a possession, but as a responsibility too."
"My aunt lives there," he reminded her, "and my cousins. It would only upset them-and me-if I went to live there too. My aunt always had the running of the place, you know, even when my uncle still lived. He did not mind. I would."
"Well, and so you ought," his grandmother said, rather exasperated as she folded the last invitation and rang the bell to have a servant take it and deliver it. "You must go and exert yourself and make other arrangements for the marchioness and her daughters, Joshua. There is a dower house at Penhallow, is there not? Goodness! When your grandpapa died and Gregory became Potford, I would no more have dreamed of remaining at Grimley House than I would of flying to the moon. Gladys would not have liked it, and I would have liked it less."
Joshua stretched his legs out in front of him along the sitting room carpet and crossed them at the ankles. "Exert myself?" He grinned at her. "That sounds remarkably painful, Grandmama."
"Joshua." She turned in her chair at the escritoire and regarded him with some severity, "I have always chosen to believe that you were in France and other countries of Europe during the past five years risking the dangers of capture in an enemy nation merely for the amusement of indulging in such a prank. But I have always realized deep down that there was a far more alarming explanation for your presence there. Do not think now to convince me that you are a lazy care-for-naught intent upon nothing but your own amusement."
He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He had, of course, been spying for the British government on the military
Lady Holt-Barron almost tripped all over herself in her eagerness to accept. The marquess took his leave five minutes later after they had all-with the exception of Freyja-engaged in a lively discussion of the weather.
"Lady Freyja!" Lady Holt-Barron said, clasping her hands to her bosom, her headache apparently dissipated. "I do believe all will be well after all and no shadow of scandal will be allowed to hang over your head. I even sense that the marquess is smitten by you."
Freyja snorted.
"He is gorgeously handsome," Charlotte said with a sigh.
"My love," her mother said reproachfully. "Remember Frederick."
The absent Frederick Wheatcroft, Charlotte's betrothed, was off shooting with her father and brothers.
Gorgeously handsome, indeed! Too handsome by half. And doubtless he thought now that he could charm her out of her indignation over his trickery-he had oozed charm from every pore of his body. They would see about that.
She should have let him be caught in that wardrobe like a mouse in a trap.
She should have been sure to take an inn room with all the ivy shaved off its outer walls.
She should have punched him in the nose again this morning while she had had the chance.
She should have . . .
She was so desperately glad that there was at least something of interest to look forward to tomorrow. The Marquess of Hallmere might be-and undoubtedly was-all sorts of nasty, unsavory things, but at least he was not bland.
CHAPTER IV
The planned dinner at Lady Potford's was turning into a grand affair as she kept adding names to the guest list.
"You have been the Marquess of Hallmere for longer than six months, Joshua," she explained when he asked if she had one more leaf to add to the dining room table-and perhaps one more wing to add to the dining room itself. "It is high time you took your rightful place in society instead of chasing all over the country in search of amusement with low companions."
"But amusement is so . . . amusing, Grandmama," he said with an exaggerated sigh. He did not add that some of his "low" companions were aristocrats and the sons of aristocrats.
"It is time too that you returned to Penhallow," she said, not for the first time. "It is yours, not just as a possession, but as a responsibility too."
"My aunt lives there," he reminded her, "and my cousins. It would only upset them-and me-if I went to live there too. My aunt always had the running of the place, you know, even when my uncle still lived. He did not mind. I would."
"Well, and so you ought," his grandmother said, rather exasperated as she folded the last invitation and rang the bell to have a servant take it and deliver it. "You must go and exert yourself and make other arrangements for the marchioness and her daughters, Joshua. There is a dower house at Penhallow, is there not? Goodness! When your grandpapa died and Gregory became Potford, I would no more have dreamed of remaining at Grimley House than I would of flying to the moon. Gladys would not have liked it, and I would have liked it less."
Joshua stretched his legs out in front of him along the sitting room carpet and crossed them at the ankles. "Exert myself?" He grinned at her. "That sounds remarkably painful, Grandmama."
"Joshua." She turned in her chair at the escritoire and regarded him with some severity, "I have always chosen to believe that you were in France and other countries of Europe during the past five years risking the dangers of capture in an enemy nation merely for the amusement of indulging in such a prank. But I have always realized deep down that there was a far more alarming explanation for your presence there. Do not think now to convince me that you are a lazy care-for-naught intent upon nothing but your own amusement."
He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He had, of course, been spying for the British government on the military
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