LITMIR.BIZ

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chamber is opposite, my lord,’ the footman volunteered when he had checked that hot water had been delivered to the dressing room. ‘Lady Eldonstone thought you would prefer her ladyship to be nearby. Mr Farnsworth is just around the corner to the left. An informal luncheon will be served in the Green Dining Room in half an hour.’

      Lucian tidied himself up, grimaced in the mirror at the bruise on his chin and went in search of his sister. A maid opened the door to his knock and he found Marguerite happily exploring a room that was swagged in pale silk embroidered with flowers and animals.

      ‘This is lovely, Lucian! It is like being in a garden. Lady Eldonstone is so kind and understanding—Lucian, your chin?’

      ‘I walked into something.’ No more than the truth. ‘Ready for luncheon?’

      ‘Of course. I am starving.’ She dimpled at his grin. ‘I know, how unladylike of me. But I am. We must collect Gregory.’

      ‘Mr Farnsworth will make his own way down.’ He trusted them—up to a point. Showing the little minx the location of her lover’s bedchamber was positively begging for trouble. ‘Concentrate, Marguerite. This is the first act of a play, remember. Your reputation hangs on its success.’

      She nodded with all the confidence of youth and Lucian gave mental thanks once again for Sara’s help. ‘It will be all right, do not fuss, Lucian.’

      ‘We haven’t met the other guests yet,’ Lucian said grimly. All they needed were a couple of those eagle-eyed dowagers, able to spot a scandal at twenty paces, and the acting would have to be of a very high order indeed.

      When they located the Green Dining Room the first sight of the assembled company was promising, he thought. Everyone there was known to him, at least by sight, although for Marguerite, not yet out, they were all strangers. Lady Eldonstone had organised a casual buffet with several tables scattered through the room and out on the terrace which was accessible through the open full-length windows and the guests were standing about chatting while servants brought in various dishes to set out on the sideboard.

      Two young bachelor acquaintances from his clubs came over at once. ‘Cannock, this is a surprise. Ma’am,’ Toby Peterson said, beaming at Marguerite.

      ‘Marguerite, this is Sir Toby Peterson and Lord Hitchin. Gentlemen, my sister, Lady Marguerite.’

      ‘Delighted, Lady Marguerite.’ Sir Toby moderated the smile to something more respectful. Marguerite, Lucian was amused to see, blushed and smiled back. He only hoped that her devotion to Gregory held firm in the face of close encounters with other personable young men or they really were in the soup.

      ‘What’s wrong with your face, Cannock?’ Hitchin enquired, loudly enough for several heads to turn. ‘Nasty bruise coming up on your chin.’

      ‘An unfortunate collision,’ Lucian replied. ‘I should have been more careful. Is that Fitzhugh I see over there?’ He abandoned the inquisitive Hitchin and moved to greet an acquaintance from White’s. His wife expressed interest in meeting Marguerite and made her way over to detach her from the baronet.

      ‘She misses her own young sister,’ Fitzhugh confided. ‘We fired Annabelle off in fine style this Season, but now Marie is like a hen without a chick. She’ll keep an eye on your sister with these young bucks around. Her first time out, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, I thought it sensible to let her try her wings before her Season. It always seems cruel pitching the girls straight from the schoolroom into society and the bear pit of Almack’s.’ Time, he thought, to change the subject away from Marguerite. ‘That racehorse of yours did well at Wincanton.’

      Sara came in and began to circulate, her expression when they met decidedly cool and collected. Was she play-acting for her family’s benefit or had he upset her in the study? he wondered, schooling his own face. Hell, this could be a long week.

      Something white fluttered to his feet as she passed. ‘Your handkerchief, Lady Sara.’ He stooped to pick it up and, as she took it from him, her fingers curled into his palm for a moment, the nails gently raking the sensitive flesh. ‘Stop it, you tease,’ he murmured and she chuckled, a low, wicked sound, as she moved on.

       Chapter Thirteen

      Lucian conjured up thoughts of cold porridge, icicles and Latin verbs. A very long week. He looked around for his sister and saw Marguerite was talking to the Dowager Countess of Thale, a notoriously outspoken old besom, and her companion, the bluestocking Miss Croft. He moved across the room so he was within earshot of the conversation.

      ‘Oh, good, poor Mr Farnsworth has come down,’ Marguerite said. ‘He is my brother’s confidential secretary, you know, and he has been in the most horrible accident and it is so brave of him to come back to help Lucian even though he is still recovering. I tell my brother he must not work him too hard, but you know what men are like.’

      ‘Indeed I do,’ Miss Croft said darkly. ‘He looks a scholarly type, though.’

      ‘My brother?’ Marguerite asked innocently. Lucian’s lips twitched. He must warn her not to overdo the sweet naivety.

      ‘The secretary.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I believe he is. Rather serious, you know, even though the eyepatch makes him look most piratical.’ She laughed and Lucian relaxed. Marguerite would do.

      ‘Lord Cannock.’

      He turned and saw a tall brunette by his side, regarding him with wide brown eyes full of curiosity. He recognised her, but had never met her. ‘Lady Clere.’ An attractive lady and expecting a child, if he was not mistaken. Sara’s brother had good taste, he would give him that. The child, he remembered Sara saying, would be their first.

      ‘I suspect I know where that bruise came from,’ she murmured. ‘Ashe can be exceedingly protective, which is very commendable, but sometimes...infuriating. I must congratulate you on not retaliating. But by the look of her I think you are making Sara happy, so I approve. But if I find you have hurt her I will disembowel you myself, Lord Cannock.’ She smiled brightly as if she had just made a joke. He suspected it was not. ‘Luncheon is ready, do make yourself at home.’

      She passed on to the next group of guests with a warm smile, leaving Lucian wondering just what sort of bloodthirsty family Sara belonged to. She was skilled with a knife, as was, apparently, her mother. Her brother hit first and asked questions afterwards, her father positively exuded controlled menace and her sister-in-law uttered unladylike threats with relish.

      He filled a plate with cold meats and salads and went to an unoccupied table on the terrace in the hope of finding some peace to think. He had no sooner settled and sent a footman off for ale than he had to rise as his hostess approached.

      ‘Please, do not stand, Lord Cannock.’ Lady Eldonstone settled beside him in a flurry of elegant green skirts and he thought what a truly beautiful woman she was, with her glossy dark brown hair and her gilded skin and those wide, expressive green eyes. She and Eldonstone had created handsome children between them, he thought, eyeing her warily. What threats would she utter? he wondered, knowing he could not bring himself to speak to his hostess as he had to her husband and son if she attacked him.

      ‘You may relax, Lord Cannock, I trust my daughter’s judgement,’ she said without further preliminaries as she tore a bread roll apart with one quick twist.

      ‘Thank you.’ It was a novel experience, to be talking to the mother of a lover, and it went against all his instincts as a gentleman. The ladies with whom he normally formed liaisons were as old as he was, sophisticated widows living independent lives far detached from the bonds of family. Sara was sophisticated enough in her own way, but he had not counted on this close proximity to the rest of the Herriards, her unconventional, exceedingly frank, family.

      ‘And I like your sister, a charming girl. All will be well,’ Lady Eldonstone added serenely.

      ‘I

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