than Juliet was used to, especially for nine people, were placed on the table, leaving the family to help themselves.
“Living like princes,” his lordship muttered, ladling soup into his bowl. “No wonder you’re hanging about here instead of going home!”
“Always so hospitable,” murmured Hugh in a faintly fawning voice, although Juliet suspected sarcasm.
Judging from the smile flickering on Dan’s face, so did he.
Lord Myerly, however, seemed perfectly unaware. He sneered whenever Hugh opened his mouth, snapped at his daughters and Colin, argued with Dan, and ignored Mr. Ames. He condescended to make conversation with Juliet, although this generally took the form of abrupt questions.
“I suppose you have several more courses for dinner at Hornby?”
“It depends if we have guests,” Juliet replied diplomatically.
“Who is it your sister is betrothed to?”
“Mr. King, from—”
“I know the family. Bit of a comedown for the Lilbournes, isn’t it? Thought your father would have done better for her.”
“Mr. King is Kitty’s choice,” Juliet said firmly.
He might not have heard her. “But then, he’s made a few bad decisions recently. Placed you with the Princess of Wales. Ha!” He reached for the plate of beef.
From the master of the house, each dish tended to circulate to Juliet and around the table to Jenny Stewart on his other side. Which meant there wasn’t always a great deal left by the time the dishes reached Hugh and Mrs. Stewart. Juliet suspected he had arranged matters that way.
By the time of the beef course, Dan clearly had decided to speed things up. Seated farthest down the table opposite his uncle Ames, he began seizing on some of the vegetable dishes and offering them first to his Aunt Hetty beside him. Which caused the first smile Juliet had seen on Ames’s face, even though it meant he and Dan split meager leavings. If Lord Myerly noticed, he chose not to mention it.
“The Kings,” Juliet said, “are one of the oldest and most respected families in Yorkshire. They were here before the Lilbournes and the Myerlys.”
“Defensive, aren’t you?” his lordship observed. He seemed amused. “No need. No one could accuse your sister of a mésalliance.”
“Indeed, I would hope not,” Colin murmured, passing the mushroom dish on to his mother, who took a spoonful and pushed the rest on to Mr. Ames. For once, there seemed to be enough left to serve everyone.
Juliet found it something of a relief when the meal came to a close. Mrs. Cornwell rose to signal the departure of the ladies, a duty which should have been performed by the eldest daughter as hostess. Mrs. Stewart, however, did not appear to object. Scandal, clearly, had demoted her, which was something for Juliet to consider.
By running here, she had avoided marriage with the only men who could save her tarnished reputation. She tried to envisage a time with her mother gone and Kitty taking precedence over her. It seemed so distant and so unimportant that she really couldn’t care.
Instead, she curtseyed to the baron and left the table. As she walked out of the dining room, Susan followed with a heavy tray full of dirty crockery and glass.
“Susan,” she murmured, “Did you see Sergeant Owens?”
“Ran down before dinner, my lady. I don’t know why he’s come. He shouldn’t have come… And there’s my mother now, back at the Black Cat in Kidield!” Flustered and clearly unhappy, the girl scuttled off, considering the weight of her tray, Juliet did not try to keep her. But Susan’s distress bothered her. She hadn’t liked the sergeant’s aggression.
What if Sergeant Owens was shooting at me, thinking I was Susan walking out with Dan? Annoyed with her own speculations, she did her best to banish them.
Away from Lord Myerly, the drawing room was a little more relaxed.
“I hope my father did not offend you by the way he spoke of your sister,” Mrs. Cornwell said, sitting beside Juliet on the sofa.
“Of course not,” Juliet replied politely.
“He has grown too used to saying exactly what he pleases,” Mrs. Cornwell mourned. “And in truth, he often speaks for effect, to create an argument. For example, suddenly announcing Dan was his heir, just to see if it would cause friction between us.”
“There is a little more to it than that, Tabby,” Mrs. Stewart said mildly. “He did make Dan his heir. It’s in his will.”
Mrs. Cornwell bridled. “Well, if you imagine he won’t change it again before the end of the month and for no good reason, you are deceiving yourself! Is she not, Hetty?”
“I wouldn’t be