Home > The Secrets of Colchester Hall(3)

The Secrets of Colchester Hall(3)
Author: Sophie Barnes

“Come on,” Angelica told Lucy as she grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m sure there must be a library. Let’s go find it, shall we?”

They checked with both of their mothers first just to let them know where they were off to. “We’ll order some tea,” Angelica said as they walked down the stairs. She pulled her shawl tighter to ward off the chill creeping up the back of her neck. Good lord, it was only September, yet it felt like the middle of winter. Which was reason enough for her not to marry Lord Sterling. In spite of its grandeur, Colchester Hall was felt a huge mausoleum, and she could not see herself living here.

 

 

Raising a snifter of brandy to his lips, Randolph Benedict Scott Trevarian took a long swallow and savored the hot burn that followed. Inviting six debutantes to his home for the sake of selecting one as his future viscountess had been his idea alone. He had no one to blame for their presence but himself. Yet he’d started to have some serious doubts about the sanity of his decision since their arrival, because now he had to entertain them. At the very least, he should have asked some of his married friends to attend the house party as well, for the sake of balance and, perhaps, moral support.

But he’d had no such brilliant notion until this second and now it was too late. He was alone as host and gentleman with six expectant young ladies and their eager chaperones to contend with. He glanced at the clock. It was almost six thirty. He took another sip of his drink, aware that he ought to go down and greet his guests as they gathered for dinner.

A knock at the door offered a welcome delay.

“Enter!”

Mrs. Essex glided into his study. She was, he’d noted a long time ago when she’d first begun in his employ, exceptionally pretty, although there was something about her – a flawlessness – he found strangely unappealing. Nevertheless, it had surprised him that his wife had hired her, but she’d been confident in his faithfulness and insisted they help the poor woman who’d recently lost her husband.

Now here they were, a widow and widower beneath the same roof. He had no doubt some of the other servants wondered if they’d become lovers. And Randolph was man enough to admit to having considered it on occasion, if only for a fleeting second. For although he knew most men would probably let themselves be tempted by the lovely Mrs. Essex, he wasn’t really attracted to her at all. Never had been. And even if he were, he was not the sort of man who’d ever proposition a servant, no matter how high ranking she might be.

“Since you’re the only gentleman here, I thought you might like to forego the after dinner drink in your study and take tea with the ladies instead,” Mrs. Essex said with a warm and inviting smile. “It will allow you to further your acquaintance with them in a less formal setting.”

“How thoughtful.” Randolph set his glass aside and met her gaze directly. “What is your opinion of them so far?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Can’t or don’t wish to?” He deliberately smiled in an effort to soften her up. “Come now, Mrs. Essex, I’d like to know what you think.”

Mrs. Essex appeared to consider. Randolph glanced at the clock. He really should get going. “None,” she eventually said.

“That’s not very helpful.”

“Perhaps not, but none of the ladies you have invited stand out.” She shrugged one shoulder. “They’re forgettable. Except for Lady Seraphina.”

“Oh?” As she was the daughter of a duke, he’d wondered about her unmarried state. Surely men would be lining up outside her door?

Mrs. Essex actually grinned. “You’ll see what I mean.”

“Is she hideous?”

“My lord! What a thing to suggest.”

“It is a reasonable assumption to make,” he muttered. And it might not be the worst thing in the world, having a wife who would not tempt other men to her bed. It was, after all, why he’d asked these particular women to join him in the first place. Because each and every one had been unable to snatch up a husband.

“You should head toward the parlor now unless you wish to be late to your own dinner party. And I,” she announced with a flourish, “must return to the kitchen to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Mrs. Essex,” he said, halting her in the middle of her departure. She glanced back with one raised eyebrow. “Thank you.”

Her lips curved with pleasure. Her pale blue eyes gleamed as they caught the light from the oil lamp. She added a nod, and then she was gone. Randolph blew out a breath, gave his sleeves a quick tug and checked his cravat. Satisfied with his appearance, he made his way through the long oak-paneled hallway that would take him to the parlor adjoining the dining room.

Once there, he did not have to wait long before the first young ladies arrived with their mothers. Randolph stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and offered a partial bow to each of them in turn. “Good evening.” He directed most of his attention to the two women he was meant to consider. “Viscount Sterling, at your service.”

Both ladies curtsied and then their mothers introduced them as Miss Matilda Stevens and Miss Anna Chesterfield. “A pleasure,” Randolph told them politely. He barely managed to ask them about their journey before Miss Clare St. James arrived. She was the shortest of the three and the least attractive. She also seemed to speak solely in nods and head shakes, so if he meant to marry a woman with whom he could carry on conversations, he probably shouldn’t consider her. Although, he reflected, there was a chance she was merely nervous, and it would be terribly ill-bred of him to judge her too quickly.

With this in mind, he deliberately said, “Tell me about your hobbies.”

Her lips parted, she seemed to stammer something, though he’d no clue what, and then she shook her head and retreated until the back of her legs connected with a chair. She sat with the most terrified expression he’d ever seen on anyone’s face.

Irritated, Randolph located her chaperone – a friend of her guardian’s – and bluntly asked, “Is something the matter with her?”

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but she’s painfully shy. Allow her a couple of days to adjust, and I’m sure she’ll warm to you.”

She warm to him?

It took no small effort for him to keep a straight face and not blurt out an insult. Instead, he managed a nod and decided to give his attention back to Miss Chesterfield and Miss Stevens. Only as he turned, he spotted a lady who’d just stepped through the door. Her poise was perfect, if a little aloof, but her face was pleasing enough to the eye, and there was a natural elegance about her that would suit a viscountess very well.

Their eyes met. Randolph’s stomach tightened with anticipation. This could be his future wife. She raised her chin, drew back her shoulders, and smiled in a disconcertingly predatory way as she started toward him. Randolph tried not to be put off. After all, determination could be an admirable feature. But then she reached him and rather than say some polite words of greeting, she raised her right arm, stretching it out until her hand was almost level with his chin. And waited.

Randolph stared down at the back of her hand. Her motive could not have been more obvious if she’d been carrying a sign that read: You may have the pleasure of dropping a kiss right there.

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