him. The servants' quarters would be full of bustle, warmth, and normal-looking decor.
The majordomo, after looking askance at my sorry state, told me that the other guests had begun dinner, but I would be taken to them after I refreshed myself. His look told me he'd allow me nowhere near the other guests until I made myself presentable.
The bedchamber to which he led me resembled the entrance hall in decoration, but I consoled myself that I would be sleeping in the dark. The bed at least looked comfortable.
Bartholomew entered as I stripped off my wet clothes. He looked inordinately cheerful for someone who'd ridden through pouring rain on the back of a cart. He unpacked my things, whistling, while I washed up, then he helped me into my regimentals.
'Something amusing you, Bartholomew?' I asked as I fastened the silver braid.
'You'll see, sir.'
His good mood after my race to send Easton out of harm's way then our muddy ride irritated me a bit, but I kept my temper in check. I asked no more questions and went downstairs to the dinner in progress.
The dining room's theme was that of hunting. The mural on the longest wall depicted gods and satyrs chasing helpless oxen and boar through a featureless wood. Most of the animals looked like pincushions full of spears, and those already dead lay broken in pools of blood.
At least ten people gathered around the table-I'd not thought this would be a large house party, but perhaps my ideas of large and Lady Southwick's differed.
The head of the table was empty, but Lady Southwick sat at its foot. Lord Southwick was far away in Greece at the moment. I'd been told that he was often far away in Greece.
Lady Southwick looked to be of an age with Donata Breckenridge, her hair fair with a touch of red. Lady Southwick's gown was a near match to Donata's, dark green and black to my lady's cream and silver. The two women also had similar bearing and mannerisms, as though the same set of governesses had trained and finished both.
The difference ended there, however. Lady Breckenridge had developed a sharp intelligence, while Lady Southwick wore a sly, predatory look of a person who thought herself more clever than she was.
The guests did not look up or cease conversation when the butler led me to the only empty chair, which was on Lady Southwick's left. This put me nowhere near Lady Breckenridge, who sat at the other end of the table next to a dandy called Rafe Godwin. She and Godwin carried on a merry conversation, neither glancing my way.
When I could pull my gaze from Lady Breckenridge, I looked across the table and saw a man I knew very well indeed. He was the most popular gentleman in England, and his name was Lucius Grenville.
The source of Bartholomew's good humor became clear. While in the servants' hall, Bartholomew must have come across his brother, Matthias, who was footman to Grenville. Bartholomew would think it a good joke to surprise me with Grenville's presence.
It did surprise me, because Grenville was very choosy about whom he graced with country visits. The dark- haired, dark-eyed dandy shot me a look across the table as Lady Southwick signaled to her footman to serve me the sole.
After Donata's warnings, I expected Lady Southwick to pay me embarrassing attention, but, alas for Grenville, he eclipsed me. Lady Southwick spent the meal leaning to him, her bosom resting nearly in her plate, so that Grenville could look straight down her decolletage if he chose. Grenville kept his gaze firmly on his food.
The fish was tender and fresh, served with a hot, buttery sauce, welcome after my afternoon in the rain. The game birds that followed were equally good, and the meal ended with a tart heaped with late berries made piquant with lemon. In spite of her taste in decor, Lady Southwick apparently employed a fine chef.
Once the last plates had been taken away, Lady Southwick rose, and the ladies flowed out of the room, leaving the gentlemen alone.
I disliked the modern practice of ladies and gentlemen parting after supper. I'd always found more enjoyment in the company of the fairer sex. Even well-bred gentlemen were apt to grow boorish in their cups, make bodily noises, and emit odors.
One of the Mayfair men at the table already resembled an indolent satyr in the mural. By the rapidity with which he imbibed port, I predicted he'd soon be splayed like the dead boar in the foreground.
Rafe Godwin lit a cheroot, blew out smoke, and directed a his words at me. 'You're from these parts, are you not, Lacey?'
The manner in which he said 'these parts' told me he thought little of them. 'I am, yes,' I said. 'My father's house is about five miles distant.'
'How's your yield?' Godwin asked. 'I hear that farming has been dreadful these last few years.'
True, a few years ago, a spate of bad weather had meant a dearth of crops, which had resulted in a sharp rise in the price of grain and of bread. People had starved, both here and in the cities, which had led to violence and riots.
Godwin, who spent his nights at White's and the gaming hells and his days asleep, likely knew little about farms and their yields.
'I have not been to Norfolk in two decades,' I said. 'I have no idea what my fields yield.'
'Oh, dear,' Rafe said, as though this were the most amusing thing he'd heard in a twelvemonth.
A thirtyish gentleman I did not know narrowed his eyes at me. 'Lacey? Not related to Roderick Lacey, are you?'
'He was my father,' I said.
The gentleman studied me for a time then seemed to remember to be polite and held out a hand. 'Reaves. Preston Reaves. I have the living at Parson's Point.'
Mr. Reaves, with his fine suit and manicured hands, looked nothing like a vicar. I assumed he was one of those clerics who'd gone into the church not for the calling, but because there was nothing else he could do. Younger sons who had no hope of inheritance took clerical orders or joined the army, and Reaves looked a bit soft for army life.
In the church, an ambitious man could progress until he was made a bishop, perhaps with a seat in the House of Lords. Money could be had in the higher positions, although a vicar could have a good living if the local lords and gentry were generous enough.
My father had held the living for Parson's Point, which meant that I now did. However, because my family had grown notoriously poor, Lord Southwick had begun paying the vicar's living many years ago, as well as the living for the vicar of his own parish. It was one of those things everyone knew and no one mentioned.
'In my youth, the vicar here was one Dr. Quinn,' I said.
'He passed on about seven years ago,' Reaves said. 'They had a curate for a short while, then Lord Southwick proposed me for the living.'
'Did you know my father?' I asked.
'Not at all, actually. He, too, passed on, not long after I arrived.' Reaves stared at me a moment, as though reconciling himself to the fact that he now, in theory at least, worked for me.
Grenville rose, helped himself to port, and removed a snuffbox from his pocket. He opened it, one-handed, and held it out to me. I declined, not much caring for snuff.
'No doubt the captain would prefer a pipe,' Rafe Godwin said, grinning. 'Shall we ask our hostess if she can locate a corncob?'
Baiting the yokel was to be Godwin's entertainment for the evening, I saw. After all, I wore old regimentals and had arrived in a cart, late and covered with mud. Perhaps I ought to be chewing on a straw.
I got up and made my way to the humidor on the sideboard. 'I do like a pipe, it is true,' I said. 'But I will make do with what our hostess has provided.' I chose a cheroot, rolled it between my fingers, and lit it from a candle on the table.
Grenville took a pinch snuff from his fingertips, wiped his nose with a silk handkerchief, and ignored Godwin. I seated myself in the chair Lady Southwick had vacated.
Godwin began a raucous conversation with the other gentlemen, and Grenville leaned to me. 'I can only say, thank God you are here, Lacey. The company, apart from Lady Breckenridge, is appalling.'
'You did not need to accept the invitation,' I said. 'I am amazed you did.'
'It was Lady Breckenridge's invitation. I imagine she was as appalled as I and needed reinforcements. While Lord Southwick is away, Lady Southwick is free to have as many house parties as she pleases. Notice the high
