over the lake at the bottom of the long, sloping lawns, looking like myriad tiny diamonds shimmering on a surface of azure blue velvet. Set in its center was a small island with a pale, perfectly proportioned marble folly built in the form of a classical Greek temple.
Kate shifted her gaze from the water’s edge, up through the manicured grass, the profusion of muted colors and graveled walkways to the manor house situated on the crest of the hill. ‘Castle’ was perhaps a better description, she decided, given the turreted towers and crenellated battlements that crowned the massive stone structure. Over the centuries, a succession of architects had somehow managed to make the additions and elaborations to the original Norman building work in harmony with each other. Seen from afar, with the afternoon sun setting the local honey-hued limestone aglow, the effect was dazzling.
“Perhaps I should have brought a pair of tinted spectacles,” said Charlotte dryly. “I might need them inside as well, so as not to be blinded by all the opulence.”
Knowing that her friend’s finances were stretched thin on account of her late husband’s gambling habits, Kate tactfully tried to put her at ease. Charlotte had a very sharp sense of pride, and Kate had a feeling that she was loath to accept any money from Ariel, even though her sister’s new spouse, Sir Henry Phelps, had a tidy fortune of his own.
“The diplomats of the party will all likely be trying to outshine one another. Thank God we can ignore them and spend our time here in more intelligent pursuits.”
Charlotte’s expression turned pensive as the manor house loomed larger and larger. “I knew your grandfather was wealthy, but I didn’t quite visualize how wealthy.” She made a wry face. “As you know, my gowns are all quite outdated, not that I give a fig for appearances. However, I do not wish to embarrass you.”
Kate made a rude noise. “I think you know me better than that.”
“You can always send up a tray to my rooms.”
“A far better idea is having our supper served in the conservatory, where we can dine in our work clothes while we scrabble around in the dirt.”
“I am looking forward to a tour of the glass pavilion,” said Charlotte, after venturing another look at the imposing bulk of Cluyne Close. “And the outer hothouses.”
“It will be light for several more hours, so I will show you around as soon as we are settled.” Gathering up the books and papers that the two of them had been reading during the drive, Kate tucked them into a small satchel. “We will be quartered in the west wing, which is close to the conservatory.”
“Do most guests need a ball of string to find their way around?” quipped Charlotte.
“No, they have no need to copy Theseus in finding their way through the Minotaur’s labyrinth,” replied Kate sardonically. “The duke has servants enough to provide a private escort for anyone who needs one. He would probably have a fit of apoplexy if he saw a twist of twine sullying his perfect parquet floors and expensive—”
A discreet cough cut off any further sarcasm. “Now, my dear, do try to approach this visit as a pleasant interlude—”
“Rather than as a penance for my past sins?” she muttered.
Charlotte’s brows rose slightly. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
Kate felt herself go pale.
Her friend appeared not to notice. “Sailing the seven seas was, to be sure, a rather unusual upbringing for a young lady,” went on Charlotte. “But you’ve acquired an admirable knowledge and understanding of the world. I should think that would make any grandfather proud.”
“Tell that to Cluyne,” retorted Kate. Seeing her fellow ‘Sinner’ frown, she quickly added, “Sorry—you are right, of course. I shall try to leave my petty resentments in Town and have a more… positive attitude.”
“You might surprise yourself and actually have a good time. Considering that a number of foreign diplomats are among your grandfather’s guests, the discussions about the peace conference in Vienna promise to be quite fascinating.”
“True,” conceded Kate. “Assuming we ladies are allowed to be present when they speak of serious subjects. Most of the really interesting conversation takes place after the ladies are asked to withdraw from the dining room, leaving the gentlemen to linger over their port and cigars.”
“Actually, that is usually the time they tell bawdy jokes and brag about their mistresses,” said Charlotte dryly. “So we really aren’t missing much.”