What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,58
declarations to reach their full potential?”
Eloise glowered playfully. “Take care, nephew. I am still your aunt and ought to command some degree of respect.”
Graham chuckled and nodded with all due deference. “Very well, then. Respectfully, aunt, I invited these people because of two women.”
His aunt coughed again, this time without the same severity and purely out of shock. “Two?”
“One,” he went on without pausing, “because I have found myself at her service time and again when she required assistance during some particular difficulty. Her situation grows more and more dire, so much so that a few of us have decided that London ought not to be her location at present. In order to get her away without raising suspicions, a house party was the only legitimate option. I had the nearest estate, so this is where they are coming.”
“Oh, Gray,” Eloise murmured, reaching out a hand to him, which he instantly took. “That is so lovely. You are giving her a refuge from the trials of her life. Of course, she should come here. What better place? Who is she? Do I know her?”
He shook his head, smiling fondly. “I doubt it. Lady Edith Leveson. You’ll like her. She’s Scottish, and she speaks her mind in such a way…”
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“She is, yes.”
Eloise laughed at once, her clasped hands going to her lips. “Not a moment’s hesitation. This is too marvelous. And who is the second woman?”
Graham’s smile turned rueful. “Miranda Sterling.”
“No!” Eloise gasped, breaking out into a wide smile. “Miranda is coming?”
“She is, indeed,” Graham confirmed. “She invited herself before I had settled on anyone coming at all. I had, of course, been considering the idea for Edith’s sake, but Miranda’s opinion certainly gave me some confirmation of the thing.”
Eloise leaned her head back against the chair, shaking it back and forth slowly. “It must be a significant thing indeed, Gray, for you to call Lady Leveson by her Christian name. But I can easily see how Miranda would be useful in deciding on a particular course.”
Graham chose to ignore his aunt’s assertion of significance on his forgetting Edith’s title, or dwelling on the fact that he had not used it in some time in his mind. Had he made such a mistake publicly? He couldn’t recall, but as he hadn’t been corrected or called out yet, he could not bring himself to worry.
Besides, he rather liked removing formality where Edith was concerned.
He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand.
“Miranda,” he growled to himself.
“Yes, Miranda, indeed,” Eloise quipped on a giggle. “You’ve done it now, Graham. When do they arrive?”
“Three days,” he murmured as he dropped his hand, giving her a tired smile. “I’m going to need your help in this, Aunt.”
Eloise dipped her chin. “You have it. But I think you will surprise yourself, Gray. In the meantime, I will do what I can to entertain the likes of Miranda Sterling during this house party. Heaven knows, that will take some effort.”
Graham could only groan again in response.
Chapter Thirteen
The country is far and away better than Town, and I defy any who would argue otherwise. London may have more events and people, but the country has more freedom, beauty, and life than any city or town could ever boast. One must occasionally, if not frequently, take time in the country. It will do a person good.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 8 November 1816
Edith could not say that she had seen much of England, her exposure limited to the travels from Scotland to York and from York to London, and only the trip to Withrow, the Ingrams’ country estate, beyond that.
Taking all of that into account, she would have to admit that Berkshire might have been the most beautiful county in England. So green and lush, with rolling hills and grand expanses of nature at almost every turn. It reminded her of the lowlands of Scotland, and despite being a Highland lass, she had felt those faint pangs of longing for her home, though she had not been back for several years.
Her awe and appreciation only increased when she caught sight of Merrifield Terrace. The house itself surpassed what Georgie and Grace had described it to be. A massive expanse of Tudor architecture and style, the stone an idyllic golden color that made the contrast against the green of its countryside all the more lovely. Decorative battlements lined the façade, drawing one’s eyes up without any hesitation, and the enormous windows cradled between stone glistened in the morning light.