Spending more time with his valet and uncovering Julian’s real character could not wait. He scoffed. It escaped Wentworth’s attention that he wasn’t addressing exactly why it was so important.
This is just a diversion, he silently told himself. One that is merely fun and different. He had always been the type to enjoy new challenges and unique situations. He reached the landing only to draw up at the sight of his mother—Dowager Countess of Rawlings, Aunt Millicent—a viscountess in her own right, and his two cousins in the hallway. Three footmen were wrestling with their luggage, and his ordinarily unflappable butler gave the impression of being almost harried.
His mother, a woman of renowned energy and gaiety, could have that effect. “Mother?”
The dowager countess glanced up, a radiant smile blooming on her mouth. Wentworth’s mother remained quite a beautiful woman at seven and forty, having retained her youthful slenderness and vivacity. Her light brown eyes with striking green flecks at their center, a perfect replica of his own, glowed with warmth and delight.
The countess clapped her gloved hands together. “My darling, Wentworth, how wonderful to see you! I’ve missed you.” She hurried over to him, her arms held wide.
He hugged her to him for a few seconds. “I’ve missed you too, Mother. I thought you and Aunt Millicent intended to stay in Bath for the next few weeks.” Along with his hoydenish twin cousins who were in serious need of correction. However, their over-indulgent mother and father had spoilt them rotten. The girls were only sixteen years of age and were considered ravishing beauties and heiresses. How his aunt planned to take them in hand when it was time for their debut on the marriage mart, he had no notion, nor did he envy her the task.
His mother took her time examining him, and he mockingly bared his teeth for her inspection. She laughed and quickly hugged him again. “You do know when we are apart I worry for you. That is why I despair of you finding a wife. You need someone to take care of you.”
“I am a grown man with an army of servants,” he said drily. “My future countess will not be a caretaker but a helpmate, a lover, a confidant.”
A beautiful pair of lavender eyes flashed in his thoughts, and he jolted.
“I am surprised you know it,” she said caustically. “Considering you’ve gone another season without any notable attachment or even the vaguest whispering that you are courting a lady. My son, I declare I would be deliriously happy should I hear your name attached to a scandal.”
He grunted softly. “Mother, if you are here to harangue me about marrying again, you must turn right around and head onwards to Bath.”
Aunt Millicent came over to him in a whirl of petticoats, an overlarge feathered hat which tickled his nose when she enfolded him in a hug.
“Why have you all descended on me?” he muttered with aggrieved fondness.
“Ungrateful child,” she said cheerily, kissing his cheek. “Did you not get our letters?”
He vaguely recalled his butler presenting him some correspondence a few days ago. “I haven’t read through them as yet.”
“Well, if you did,” Henrietta, his spritely cousin, and the older of the twins said, “You would know mama and Aunt Eleanor has planned a country ball, and it is their intention to hold it here at Norbrook Park in a couple of weeks’ time. That, my dear cousin, is why we are here! And to visit you, of course. We all dreadfully missed you.”
Isabelle, the younger cousin by only three minutes, winked at him, and Wentworth smiled. He smelled his mother and aunt’s scheme a mile away. Of course, if he had not selected a bride from the marriage mart in London, they would cast their net toward the local offerings.
Wentworth was tolerably amused. He would marry when he was ready, and not before, ignoring his mother’s machinations was the best way to get that message across.
“I am heading to do a spot of hunting.”
“You’ve invited a hunting party?”
“No. I am going alone with my valet.”
“Hunting alone? Why I’ve never heard the likes of it,” Aunt Millicent said, staring at him.
“We’ll have a larger hunting party in a few weeks for mother’s annual house party.”
His mother beamed. “And I am off to plan these marvelous events with my sister,” she said, strolling toward the larger drawing-room.
His aunt and her two troublesome daughters followed, their heads held close, whispering. They tended to aggravate his peace from time to time, but he was happier whenever his family visited. And he would possibly be happier with a wife and children underfoot.
Wentworth frowned, realizing that he’d never given serious consideration to the idea of matrimony in all his eight and twenty years of life. His mother mentioned it every time she visited him for the last five years. And the topic had held the same importance as if she’d mentioned cow dung. He barely paid any attention to her urgings, only knowing he would select a wife from the marriage mart when he was ready.
Perhaps he would have even given cow dung more thought since he’d written a paper once about the importance of fertilization for the growth of certain crops. It wasn’t that Wentworth was averse to the state of holy wedlock, for he would eventually marry as all gentlemen with responsibilities entrusted to them must do.
It just didn’t seem essential or currently inspiring, he thought with a jolt.
Julian appeared at the top of the hallway, and Wentworth’s mouth dried. His valet had a frown on his face until he glanced up and saw him. His expression changed to one of wary guardedness.
You are most definitely hiding something.
“My good lad, you’ll accompany me to do a spot of hunting.”
Pleasure lit in his eyes. “Yes, my lord. I shall retrieve the Manton.”
“Two of them. And a burlap sack for the game.”
“Do you use hunting dogs to collect the game, my lord?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll alert the kennel master.”
“And the stables.”
Julian frowned. “We’ll not go on foot, your lordship?”
Though riding on horseback while hunting was usually reserved for foxhunting, those skilled in balance and sight could seat a horse while bird-hunting. And Wentworth was skilled in that regard, and his lands too large to head out on foot. “No. Two horses. You do know how to ride?”
A slight hesitation, then Julian replied. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I am heading to the dining hall for some breakfast. No need to tend me there. I will meet you in the yards in an hour's time.”
His valet bobbed and hurried away to do his bidding. At the same time, he made for the dining room, anticipation enlivening his blood. Wentworth found himself wondering what did he really anticipate, the thrill of being outdoors hunting, or spending time in his valet’s presence.
The idea of it being the latter irritated him, for he did not like to invest his time into anything that did not have an endgame. What if he truly proved his valet was a lady? What would he do with the knowledge? If nothing, then he would have wasted considerable time that could have been invested into something more worthwhile that might have an eventual positive outcome. Yet there was a small part of him that genuinely thought there was simply nothing better that he could be doing at this time.