The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (Cynster #20) - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,157

begin with, then see how we fare?” He smiled at Mary. “Mary might find us too bothersome, or wish us out of your hair come spring and the Season, but for now . . . the two of us moving back to Raventhorne House might serve.”

Tapping one finger on the chair arm, Ryder said, “Next point—the Chapel Street house. It’s owned by the estate. Do you wish it retained, or should it be sold?”

Despite Lavinia’s children all promptly declaring they wanted nothing to do with that house, the discussion was lengthy, weighing up the various options such as hiring the place, balancing the long-term costs of staffing and upkeep against the value to the estate, but, ultimately, selling the property was the unanimous verdict. Ryder was grateful for the knowledgeable inputs from Lord Arthur, Louise, and the twins and their husbands. He inclined his head. “That’s settled then. I’ll send word to Montague.”

“Excellent.” Mary turned to Stacie. “That leaves us with Stacie to organize.” She smiled encouragingly at Ryder’s half sister. “As I mentioned, you will always be welcome here, but as Ryder said, at least until the Season next year, aside from the weeks of the autumn session, he and I will most likely remain in the country. However, I imagine you would prefer to be in town for more weeks than that.”

Stacie grimaced. “Well, to begin with, I need to go back and pack, especially if the Chapel Street house is to be sold. And although that might take only a week or so, I do have several weddings of friends to attend, and other invitations I had already accepted . . .” She paused, then in a smaller voice said, “I could cry off—”

“If I might make a suggestion?” Smiling, Louise waited for Ryder as well as Mary to incline their heads, then she looked at Stacie. “If you would like it, you’re welcome to stay with us in Upper Brook Street. Now Mary and Henrietta are both gone, as well as the others”—Louise waved at Amanda, Amelia, and Simon—“there’s just Arthur and me, so we’ve more than enough room, and in general I would be attending all the events you’ve been invited to—I would be happy to act as your chaperon, at least until the autumn session when Mary returns to town.” Louise looked at her youngest daughter, and a slow, anticipatory smile curved her lips. “And then, perhaps, we might all go about together until Mary learns the ropes of how to be a chaperon—not a role she’s previously been called on to perform.”

The rest of Mary’s family laughed; a slew of comments, observations, and stories ensued, many pointed, all amusing, and all thoroughly good-natured in a family-teasing kind of way.

Ryder listened to the happy ribbing, saw Mary’s eyes sparkle as she capped one of Luc’s comments with a quip of her own—saw his half siblings watching, noting, taking it in, with a longing that mirrored his own, a wish to understand, experience, and be a part of just such an interaction.

This was the other side of family—the warmth, the support, the detailed understanding and unconditional acceptance of who and what each member was, what they could contribute, their traits and foibles, their strengths and passions, and the abiding affection and inclusiveness that embraced each individual and forged them into such a powerful whole.

Family—strength, warmth, support—power.

After being reassured several times by multiple people that she would not in the least be in anyone’s way, Stacie accepted Louise’s proposal. Older head and younger bent together to plan.

As a group, they spent the rest of the day and the early evening together, chatting amiably, discovering common interests and pursuing them, eventually devolving into two groups, the ladies settling in the library chairs to swap tales of fashion and scandal, while the gentlemen took themselves off to the billiard room, there to engage in an impromptu tournament, Cavanaughs versus Cynsters and connections.

Neither side won.

Dinner, even held in the grand and gracious setting of the formal dining room, wasn’t, in that company, allowed to be anything but a relaxed affair, a fitting end to the last hours of unwinding. After passing the port and brandy, the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room; by the time everyone trooped up the stairs an hour and a half later, the dark strain of the earlier part of the day had been wiped away, and every last one of them, Ryder would have sworn, was focused ahead.

Looking forward to the next

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