hungry. Cook has made poached eggs, your favorite.”
He looked at her strangely. He’d never liked poached eggs.
“There’s rashers of bacon, too,” piped up his nephew George. “Good and hot, too, not cold like at school.”
“And butter buns!” added his niece Grace.
“Buns!” crowed little Mary Anne, waving her hands so hard, the bun she held flew right across the table, where her father Sir Thomas neatly caught it.
“Excellent,” said Wes after a moment. He went to the sideboard and filled a plate, his brain working furiously. Why were they all here? So early? And where was Viola?
He took his plate to the head of the table. “Has anyone seen Viola?”
“No, not at all!”
“Viola? I’ve no idea.”
“Not this morning, Uncle.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
Wes stared in amazement at Justin, who advanced on him with the coffee pot. He glanced around the table. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing! Coffee?” Justin lifted the pot aggressively. Mary Anne let out a giggle and clapped her hands over her mouth when Mary shushed her.
“And no one has seen Viola at all today?”
“Not a glimpse,” said Margaret calmly. “Were we supposed to keep an eye on her?”
Wes frowned and stabbed at his bacon. “No. It’s just odd that she’s not here.”
“She must be extremely busy,” said Anne. “Preparing for Christmas.”
“She’s done so much,” added Mary. “You must be prepared to make allowances, when guests are in the house.”
“Such a wonderful party it is, though, Uncle,” gushed Catherine.
“She’s an angel to have us all here for Christmas, you do know that, don’t you, Wesley?” That was Lucy, bouncing baby Maggie in her arms.
“I do.” But he was less and less pleased about it. Moodily he ate as his family chattered about neighborhood gossip. If it were such a lot of work, surely Viola should have breakfast, shouldn’t she? “Was she here earlier?” he asked abruptly.
His mother blinked at him. “Who, dear? The vicar and his wife? They’ve gone into Derbyshire to see their daughter.”
“Viola,” he said through his teeth. “Has anyone seen her this morning?”
A strangely fraught hush fell. “I believe I saw her walking in the garden,” said Justin at last, his eyes flicking from his mother to his grandmother.
“Are you certain? I’m sure I saw her heading toward the kitchens,” said Lucy.
“No, she must be with the housekeeper. She did hint there would be a splendid dinner tonight.” Anne wagged her finger at him. “Be patient, Winterton! You cannot keep her in your pocket all the time.”
I don’t want her in my pocket, Wed groused to himself. I only wanted her in my arms for a morning kiss.
He shoved back his chair. “All right. I shall see you at dinner.”
“But where are you going?” protested his mother. “We were hoping to…”
“Play charades!” cried Grace as her voice trailed off. “Please say you will, Uncle!”
Wes’s eyes flitted around the table again, suspiciously. Something was definitely up. “Perhaps later.”
“I nearly forgot,” said his mother hastily. “Viola did ask me to give you this.”
Wes all but snatched the note from her hand. With no great surprise he saw it was another riddle.
Far from the foreign bazaar, a league removed from thrills, A man must simpler pleasures apprehend, A stroll, a quiet vista, the written page, There lie adventures large and small without end…
He headed for the library.
* * *
“Is that everything?”
Mr. Jenkins, the stable master, nodded. “Aye, m’lady.”
Excellent. Viola surveyed the boxes they’d brought. Anne and Lucy were planning to come help her unpack them.
“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded at Billy and Johnny, the grooms who had finished unloading the wagon. “Go on and take the rest of the day free. No one will go out today.”
They thanked her and piled back into the wagon, rattling back up the newly widened path toward the stables. Humming softly, Viola took the broom and finished sweeping the floor. She could have sent the maids out to do this—all of it—but felt it meant a little more if she did it herself. She was still getting used to being in charge of a whole household, and she’d asked a great deal of all the servants by inviting so many guests.
But that, she did not regret. Wes had raised his brows, but she’d seen him walking the grounds with Justin, explaining why he’d done something or other around the estate. She’d heard him laughing and jesting with his sisters, who teased him with the affection of older siblings. He’d gone shooting and riding with Freddie and Thomas, and promised trips to London to his