am Lord Newton.”
She brightened. “Oh! Are you joining the house party? You didn’t tell me anyone else was coming, Viola.”
Mrs. Cavendish put up one hand. “Lady Bridget, please.” She turned back toward Wes. “Lord Winterton, Lord Newton, may I present Lady Bridget Cavendish, His Grace’s youngest sister. Lady Bridget, the Earl of Winterton and Viscount Newton.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” said Lady Bridget cheerfully as she curtseyed. Her attention immediately swung back to Mrs. Cavendish. “We need a ladder, loads of white feathers, and something that could portray a ghost—a tablecloth, perhaps.”
“What? Why?” asked the other woman in some alarm, before she held up her hand again. “Never mind. We shall discuss it later.”
Lady Bridget rolled her eyes. “But—”
“Later,” repeated Mrs. Cavendish with a small shooing motion of her hand. Reluctantly, Lady Bridget went.
“I beg your pardon,” said Wes. “I’d no idea there was a house party.”
Mrs. Cavendish shook her head, but with a betraying flush on her cheeks. “It’s only a few guests—friends of Lady Serena, the duke’s sister. I shall urge them to stay out of your way. The castle is quite large enough for all.”
There was really no choice. Night was falling, as was the snow. “Thank you,” he said again, revising his plan. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing to have an extra day or two without the duke at home. He could examine the atlas at leisure, to be sure it was the one he wanted. If not, he could take his leave and go without a fuss; he would say he needed to return Justin to his family in time for Christmas celebrations, as his nephew wished.
But if it were the atlas he wanted . . . This could be an invaluable chance to plan his strategy. The duke had not wanted to sell it, and had only agreed to let him look at it when Wes pushed all boundaries of politeness. It would take some persuading to get Wessex to part with the atlas, and any insight he could glean before the duke arrived home might prove vital. And he suspected the lovely secretary would know her employer’s mind . . .
Yes, it suited him quite well to have missed the duke.
“We would be delighted to dine with the family,” he said. “In an hour, you say?”
“Yes. Withers will send a man to attend you, if you’ve not brought your own . . . ?”
Wes shook his head. He’d got used to doing for himself on short journeys, and Justin didn’t have a valet to bring.
Mrs. Cavendish excused herself and left. Wes turned to his nephew. “Well, that’s quite a turn.”
“What?” Justin was staring at the closed door, and flinched at his remark.
“That Wessex isn’t here.” Justin looked blank. “You shall get your wish to be home with your sisters for Christmas.”
“Oh. Yes.” The young man cleared his throat. “The house party may prove diverting.”
Wes glanced at him with sudden suspicion. “Oh?” He could almost hear his sister’s voice in his ear, urging him to deliver a lecture about proper behavior toward young ladies. Wes quieted it for the moment. Lady Bridget seemed full of high spirits, but the dowager duchess, who must be Lady Bridget’s mother, was in residence. He wanted to be a mentor to Justin, not a nagging conscience.
And of course, he’d had a few improper thoughts about Mrs. Cavendish himself. If he scolded Justin for being mesmerized by a pretty female, he’d be the biggest hypocrite in Britain. He said nothing.
But when the butler appeared soon afterward to conduct them to their rooms, things took another turn for the worse. They hadn’t even made it across the hall before a patter of footsteps and a rustle of skirts heralded the arrival of not one, not two, but four young ladies, including the mischievous Lady Bridget at the rear.
“Lord Winterton,” said one of them, who seemed to be the leader from the way she stepped forward. Tall and slim, she was striking rather than beautiful, with very dark eyes and hair, but fair skin. “Lord Newton. Welcome to Kingstag Castle.” As one, all four of them curtseyed, and Wes and Justin bowed. “I am Lady Alexandra Cavendish. My cousin Viola tells me you are here to see my brother Wessex, who has been called away.”
“Yes,” Wes replied. “We shan’t intrude.”
“Oh no.” Her gaze moved to Justin, who seemed to be holding himself unusually erect, his chest puffed out a little. “We would be delighted to have you join our party.