Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,90
unexpectedly. “No one wants you here, and I’d quite like Dan to punch you in the nose, even if I’m not there to see it.”
Mrs. Stewart made a strangled sound in her throat, which she turned into a cough, just as the elderly maid and footman carried in tea trays.
“Tea,” she said shakily. “Thank goodness. Please, sit down…”
Just as things were easing back into tense civility with the pouring and receiving of tea, someone else wandered into the room. Hugh Ames, who fancied himself a dandy and had excruciating taste. This morning, his coat was pink, and it quite clearly caused a spasm to cross his grandfather’s face.
However, he looked preoccupied, and his eyebrows shot up to see so many people in the room. He bowed with his usual flourish. “Enchanted, enchanted,” he exclaimed. “But no, I don’t believe I will have tea, Aunt Jenny. I just thought my father was in here?”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Ames said, looking guilty for some reason. “I have not seen him since breakfast. I thought he was with you.”
“For God’s sake, who cares?” Lord Myerly interrupted, and Barden tended to agree with the sentiment. “He’s a grown man, isn’t he? Let him off the leash!”
After a faintly nervous glance at his grandfather, Hugh returned his gaze to his mother. “I fell asleep,” he admitted. “Bit of a disturbed night, with one thing and another. I’ll just head off and look for him.”
“No need,” Cornwell said abruptly from the window. A look of profound relief covered his face. “He’s just come back with Daniel and Lady Juliet.”
Barden did his best to hide his own relief. They had almost had him believing in this ridiculous elopement. But the girl was not a fool. She would not elope with a nobody.
“They’re in the garden,” Hugh Ames said, having walked over to join his cousin. “Playing with that monster Dan insists is a mere dog. Perhaps I shall have a cup of tea, Aunt.”
“They’re not bringing the animal into the house, are they?” Colin said in obvious alarm.
“Why shouldn’t they?” Lord Myerly demanded, presumably from sheer devilment. “I already told Dan he could, if he keeps it under control.”
They must have come into the house with a key, for Barden heard no knocking, no creaking of ancient footsteps before bright laughing voices and the quick clip-clip of a dog’s claws on the wooden floor.
“Griffin, is my cousin Hugh about?” called a young man.
“In the drawing room, sir. But, sir, my lady, you should know—” The butler clearly meant to warn them about the visitors, but with the impetuosity of youth or sheer foolishness, Lady Juliet walked into the room. And stopped dead.
Close on her heels came the elder Ames, who, in fact, walked into her. Behind him came the hugest, hairiest, worst-bred dog Barden had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. And holding onto its threadbare leash, the equally shabby figure of the young man who had stolen Juliet for the waltz while Barden was still tormenting her. So that was Daniel Stewart.
Barden had neither the time nor the inclination to put up with tantrums, though judging by Juliet’s face, he suspected he was going to have to grit his teeth with boredom and put up with one.
“Well, Juliet?” her father said heavily.
And Juliet actually sprang forward, hugging her mother and then kissing her father’s aloof cheek. “I am so sorry to have worried you! I was wrong to go as I did, so please forgive me.”
In that moment, Barden actually admired her. She had managed to take the wind out of her parents’ sails and thus made his own intentions quicker and simpler. It was a good omen. This was the match that was meant to be.
She turned, politely greeting both himself and Catesby, without favoring either, but he could see the curiosity on her face.
Lord Myerly explained it to her, a malicious glint in his eyes. “Apparently, they are both engaged to you.”
“Whoever told you that was utterly mistaken,” Juliet said calmly.
“Thought they must be,” Myerly agreed. “Which one do you favor, then?”
“Neither!” Juliet exclaimed at the same time as the earl said haughtily, “That is none of your business, sir!”
The huge dog, meanwhile, had dragged its master far enough to be able to lay its head on Mrs. Stewart’s lap, to the imminent danger of the tea table.
“Good morning to you, too, Gun,” the lady murmured, patting the hairy head. “Watch him, Dan, or he’ll upset everything.”