“That’s better,” observed her friend with an answering smile. “Let’s not start off our stay with a scowl.”
The carriage wheels crunched over the freshly raked gravel and came to a halt by the entrance portico. Charlotte looked up at the classical columns gleaming a mellow gold hue in the slanting sunlight, and then lowered her gaze to the procession of liveried servants coming to meet their arrival.
“Allow me, Miss Woodbridge.” The duke’s major-domo immediately reached for the bag.
Swallowing an inward sigh, she passed it over. She hated feeling coddled, but she had learned that argument only upset the servants. They had a very strict notion of propriety.
“Thank you, Simpson.”
“The baggage carriage arrived an hour ago and your maid is overseeing the unpacking for you and your guest.”
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“And His Grace is in the west study, awaiting your arrival.”
Another sigh, this one audible.
“William will escort you.”
“William is to be our twine, so to speak,” murmured Kate as the heavy oak-paneled door swung silently open and she and her friend fell in step behind the footman.
They passed through the elegant entrance foyer, the clicking of their shoes on the highly polished marble tiles echoing off the ornate plasterwork and gilt-framed paintings.
“This part of the house is only fifty years old,” said Kate as they proceeded down a long corridor. “The original Norman keep is part of the west tower. The east tower was added for symmetry in the seventeenth century…”
She continued the architectural history through what felt like an endless series of turns. Finally, the footman paused before a closed door and knocked discreetly.
A gruff voice bade them to enter.
Kate inhaled, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. Would there ever come a day when she felt comfortable around Cluyne? Shaking off such musings, she angled a quick look at her friend. She had warned her of the duke’s imperious manner, but in the flesh, he was a formidable figure.
But then, Charlotte was not easily intimidated. Arthritic knees had slowed her step, yet she still carried herself with a regal grace. Tall and full-figured, she wore her hair wound in a severe chignon. The silvery strands framed an oval face dominated by a pair of piercing gray eyes and a long, thin nose. With such strong features, she would not be called beautiful, but rather handsome.
“Don’t just stand there, come in, come in,” barked the duke. He rose from his desk and clasped his big hands behind his back. “I trust you had a comfortable ride down from Town.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” replied Kate, quickly performing the introductions.
Her grandfather fixed Charlotte with a long, icy stare before inclining a curt nod. “Welcome to Cluyne Close, Lady Fenimore.”
“Thank you for the most gracious invitation, sir,” replied the widowed scholar with equal frost.
Cluyne’s eyes narrowed, as if he was wondering whether her words held a faint trace of mockery.
Kate repressed a smile. If the duke expected Charlotte to be cowed by his title and wealth, he was in for a rude awakening.
“I have heard a great deal about your collection of botanical specimens,” Charlotte went on. “And look forward to seeing them.”
“Hmmph.” The sound may have been a snort or simply a clearing of his throat. “Ah, yes, my granddaughter said you were one of the members of her scientific circle.”
“Indeed,” said her friend evenly. “You must be extremely proud of Kate’s accomplishments in the field of botany. Her recent essays on the Spice Islands have earned accolades from some of the leading scholars here and abroad.”
The duke’s bushy brows drew together.
“If you will excuse us, sir, I should like to show Lady Fenimore to her quarters,” said Kate hastily, hoping her friend caught the subtle hand signal to cease speaking of her intellectual achievements. For Cluyne, they were only further indication of her oddities. “And then take a quick turn of the conservatory and hothouses while the light is still good.”
“Of course.” He pursed his lips. “We dine promptly at seven. I ask that you be in the drawing room a half hour beforehand, in order to meet the other guests. Most of them arrived this afternoon, though a few will not be here until the morrow.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” said Kate. Taking her friend’s arm, she drew her toward the door. “Until then.”
Chapter Seven
Muttering an oath as she glanced at the mantel clock, Kate scrubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek and tugged at the tabs of her day gown. “Drat, why is it that