'Reggie wrote. But how was—?'
Amanda waved. 'The journey was easy.'
'Yes, but what about—?'
'Ah, that! Well—'
Shaking his head, Martin climbed the shallow steps to Luc's side. The cousins exchanged smiles, with a spontaneous return to the camaraderie of their youth clapped each other's shoulders, then turned to survey their still chattering wives.
After a moment, Martin lifted his gaze, surveying the rolling green of the valley. 'This place looks even more prosperous than I remember it.'
Luc inclined his head. 'We are doing quite well.'
Martin had never known of the Ashfords' travails. If his cousin, who would remember the Chase in its glory days, could detect no lingering sign of their past plight, Luc was content to let that past die. The Ashfords had survived, that was what was important; his gaze resting on Amelia's golden head, he inwardly acknowledged that his house was only growing stronger. Day by day, by every day that she was his.
Another carriage appeared on the long slope traversing the other side of the valley; Martin nodded at it. 'That'll be the Dowager. Simon's traveling with her. Arthur and Louise are bringing up the rear.'
The sun slowly sank, gilding the V-shaped facade of the Chase; the afternoon stretched and lengthened with the shadows, the hours filled with warmth, joy, and unalloyed happiness as Amelia's family arrived and settled in.
Everyone gathered for afternoon tea; it was then that
Martin and Amanda made their announcement. Amanda was expecting their first child. The gathering erupted with a fresh outpouring of joy, of exclamations and congratulations. Luc watched Amelia hug her twin, watched the ladies crowding round to kiss and hug each other delightedly. Turning from the sight, he beckoned Cottsloe and sent him to fetch champagne.
Cottsloe rushed off to obey. Given he could count perfectly well, Luc returned his gaze to Amelia. She noticed; she cast him a quick glance, one he couldn't be sure he read correctly — imploring?
The champagne arrived; rising, he went to the sideboard and busied himself pouring the delicately fizzy liquid into the glasses Cottsloe hurriedly fetched. Simon came up to help distribute the glasses.
The instant Simon left him, Amelia appeared at Luc's shoulder. He paused in the act of pouring. Her hand closed over his wrist as their eyes met.
'Please don't say anything. I'm not sure!'
He read her eyes, then, lips curving, bent his head and brushed a kiss to her temple. 'I won't — stop worrying. This is their moment — they married a month before we did. We'll make our own announcement, in our own time.'
She searched his eyes, his face, then her brittle tension left her. She released his wrist; he finished pouring, then handed the glass to her.
She took it. Her eyes held his. 'Thank you.'
His lips curved. 'No — thank you.'
For one moment, they were the only people in the room, then Simon returned and gathered the rest of the glasses bar one. 'That's it, I think.' He turned back to the gathering in the center of the room.
Luc lifted the last glass, caught Amelia's gaze, then clinked the edge of his glass to hers. 'Come.' His arm sliding around her waist, he turned to company. 'Let's drink to the future.'
She smiled, leaned close for a moment, then together they returned to their guests.
The next hour winged by; at the end of it, everyone started to consider retiring to dress for dinner. Miss Pink drew Portia and Penelope away; Simon stood and stretched. As he turned to the door, it opened; Cottsloe came in, located Luc, and approached.
'My lord, General Ffolliot has called. He's waiting in the hall.'
Luc glanced at the company. 'Our nearest neighbor.' He looked at Cottsloe. 'Show him in here — perhaps he'd like to join us?'
Cottsloe bowed and withdrew. Luc rose and strolled up the long room.
The door opened again and the General came in. Of medium height and heavy build, the General's most notable features were his shaggy brows and his ruddy complexion. A genial but somewhat shy and retiring man, he readily took the hand Luc extended and shook it heartily.
'Afternoon, Calverton. Glad I caught you.'
'Welcome, General — can I invite you to join us?'
The General followed Luc's wave and saw the massed company, all smiling agreeably, further down the room. He visibly blanched. 'Oh — ah. Didn't realize you had company.'
'It's not a private gathering — can I offer you a drink?'
'Wel…'
The General dithered; Luc had forgotten how awkward he sometimes was in the presence of strangers. He heard the swish of skirts as someone approached — he assumed it was Minerva, who always treated the General kindly. Instead, Amelia appeared by his side, smiling charmingly, slipping one hand into his arm, extending the other to the General.
'It's lovely to see you, sir — do let me convince you to join us.'
Hiding a smile, Luc stood back and left the field to her. Within minutes, the General was seated on the chaise, Minerva on one side, Louise on the other. Although initially nervous, the General was not immune to the combined wiles of the ladies present; he soon had a cup of tea in one hand, a cake in the other, and was listening with rapt attention to the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives's views on the pleasures of the surrounding countryside.
Arthur caught Luc's eye, a twinkle in his. Luc smiled, and sipped his tea. Eventually, when the Dowager had finished complimenting the General on his good sense in living in such a pleasant place, Luc asked, 'What was it you wished to see me about, General?'
The General blinked; his nervousness returned. He glanced around. 'Well… not the sort of thing… then again, well…' After a moment, he hauled in a breath, and said in a rush, 'I just don't know what to think — or do.' His gaze appealed to Minerva beside him, then he glanced at Louise and Helena, all of whom looked encouraging. 'It's my wife's gold thimble — one of the few things I had left of hers.' He looked imploringly at Luc. 'It's gone missing, you see, and what with all this talk of a thief about — well, I didn't know who to see…'
There was an instant of complete silence, then Amelia leaned forward and touched the General's arm. 'How dreadful for you. When did you miss it?'
'Such an unhappy occurrence,' Helena declared.
Emily and Anne, unbeknown to them both under heavy scrutiny, were unabashedly shocked. 'How terrible,' Anne murmured, her eyes wide, innocence writ in every line of her face.
The ladies rallied around the General; Luc noted the General's answers to the shrewd and necessary questions Amelia and Phyllida put to him.
It seemed the thimble, a simple unadorned gold one, had sat on the mantelpiece in the Manor's parlor ever since the General's wife had died. The last time he remembered seeing it was weeks ago.
'Not the sort of thing I look at every day. Just knowing it was there was enough.'
The only reason the General had come to them was for comfort; at no point did he cast any aspersions on anyone at the Chase. But once he'd left, not reassured but calmed and to some degree indeed comforted, the mood in the Chase's drawing room turned somber; Luc, Lucifer, Amelia, and Phyllida exchanged weighty glances.
Arthur, Minerva, Helena, and Louise all noted those glances, exchanged glances of their own, then Minerva rose and shook out her skirts. 'We'd best go up and change — Portia and Penelope will be down shortly, and they'll find us all still here, none of us dressed.'
The group broke up, everyone retiring to their rooms.
'We'll have to talk later,' Lucifer murmured as he went up the stairs beside Luc.
Luc nodded. 'And not just talk.' He met Lucifer's blue gaze, almost as dark as his own. 'We need to come up with a plan.'
