Not willing to get into an explanation for the stink, he reiterated his thanks, paid above the estimate for the work and left instructions with Frederick to drive to Withins Hall once repairs were completed.
Not anxious to return for another round with Springer, he dropped intoThe Coach and Fourfor a quick bite.
The hearty plateful of bangers and mash was delicious, and three glasses of dark ale went down well. Normally, he would have accepted the invitation from a blonde serving wench to visit her upstairs room. With his mind on Susan Crompton, he wasn’t in the mood for a meaningless romp, though the lass was well endowed in all the right places. He must be ailing for something he’d picked up from the noxious air in the court, or the feathers in the carriage, or…
He left the sulking chit a hefty tip and retrieved his horse. When he reached the gates of Withins Hall a short while later, he debated taking a short detour to Thicketford Manor. It was getting on for dusk and the earl was probably home by now. He could drop in to arrange a meeting for the morrow.
A Late Visit
After the seeminglyendless carriage ride home to Thicketford Manor, Emma, Patsy and Rebecca collapsed into deep armchairs in the drawing room. Rebecca stated a preference to wait for Susan’s arrival before proceeding to the dower house. Amelia brought Rafe from the nursery and Emma cradled her sleeping son in her arms.
“He fretted all the time you were gone,” the nanny lamented.
“I suppose it’s to be expected,” Emma replied, feeling guilty. “That’s the first time since he was born both his parents have been absent for so long.”
“He certainly missed you,” Amelia confirmed.
“Now I’m here, he’s fallen asleep,” Emma whispered, kissing her babe’s sweet-smelling forehead.
In the silence broken only by the loud ticking of the Perigal clock on the white marble mantelpiece, Emma held her babe to her breast and lapsed into memories of her first husband. If Matthew had lived, he’d have insisted his children be raised in the nursery by a nanny and governess. It was how his parents had raised him and Susan. Noblemen and women didn’t concern themselves with the messy, day-to-day business of rearing children. It was probably the reason Matthew had found it difficult to show emotion. Only Susan had refused to buckle down to her stuffy, overbearing father.
Emma uttered a silent prayer of thanks. She’d been blessed to fall in love with and marry her late husband’s successor. Gabriel Smith might be an earl, but he was also a man who doted on his infant son and showered love on Patsy, though she was another man’s child. Born into the landed gentry, Gabe eschewed many of the antiquated beliefs bred into the aristocracy.
She wasn’t sure what roused her from a pleasant doze. Perhaps it was Rebecca’s soft snoring, or the weight of Patsy’s head leaning against her arm. Half-asleep, it came to her the butler had entered the room. “What is it, Frame?”
“A visitor, my lady.”
“At this hour?” she asked lazily, reluctant to move.
“He apologizes for the lateness of his arrival, but the Earl of Pendlebury requests a brief meeting with his lordship.”
Jolted completely awake by the turmoil suddenly roiling in her belly, Emma tried to determine the best course of action. Sparks might fly if Susan and the Earl of Pendlebury were to unexpectedly meet each other, especially with a thoroughbred racehorse thrown into the mix.
However, she couldn’t very well turn a fellow earl away at the door; he must have traveled quite a distance.
The ever-efficient Amelia appeared. “I’ll take Rafe,” she whispered, lifting the baby from Emma’s arms.
“I’ll get Miss Ince to put Patsy to bed,” Rebecca said with a yawn as she rose.
Within a minute, Emma was alone with Frame; the decision whether to allow Pendlebury entry had been taken out of her hands.
“Shall I show the earl in?” the butler asked. “And bring tea?”
“Something stronger,” she countered. “Brandy, perhaps.”
*
Shifting his weightfrom one foot to the other, Griff loitered in the opulent foyer of Thicketford Manor, convinced he wasn’t going to be received. It was his own fault for calling so late in the day but being turned away would still be an insult. Perhaps the Earl of Farnworth had learned of Griff’s lascivious thoughts concerning his blonde countess.
His spirits lifted a little when a young woman carrying a sleeping infant appeared. An older woman followed, leading a bleary-eyed child by the hand. The group climbed the central staircase and were soon gone from sight.
Potts’ double reappeared, crossed the foyer and entered another room from which he emerged minutes later bearing a silver tray with several crystal decanters and glasses. All this was accomplished in silence. Clearly, the crystal knew what was expected of it.
The older woman eventually descended the staircase, nodded at him and re-entered what he assumed was the drawing room.
His impatience mounting, Griff paced. On the verge of taking his leave, he realized the butler stood nearby. He hadn’t heard the fellow approach and couldn’t help but be reminded yet again of Potts. Thicketford Manor might still prove to be a place where he’d obtain guidance about the management of his northern properties. The gleaming foyer smelled of lemon polish and wealth, unlike Clifton Heights.
“If you’ll follow me, my lord,” the butler intoned.