“I beg your pardon,” said Wes. “I’d no idea there was a house party.”
Mrs. Cavendish shook her head, but with a betraying flush on her cheeks. “It’s only a few guests—friends of Lady Serena, the duke’s sister. I shall urge them to stay out of your way. The castle is quite large enough for all.”
There was really no choice. Night was falling, as was the snow. “Thank you,” he said again, revising his plan. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing to have an extra day or two without the duke at home. He could examine the atlas at leisure, to be sure it was the one he wanted. If not, he could take his leave and go without a fuss; he would say he needed to return Justin to his family in time for Christmas celebrations, as his nephew wished.
But if it were the atlas he wanted . . . This could be an invaluable chance to plan his strategy. The duke had not wanted to sell it, and had only agreed to let him look at it when Wes pushed all boundaries of politeness. It would take some persuading to get Wessex to part with the atlas, and any insight he could glean before the duke arrived home might prove vital. And he suspected the lovely secretary would know her employer’s mind . . .
Yes, it suited him quite well to have missed the duke.
“We would be delighted to dine with the family,” he said. “In an hour, you say?”
“Yes. Withers will send a man to attend you, if you’ve not brought your own . . . ?”
Wes shook his head. He’d got used to doing for himself on short journeys, and Justin didn’t have a valet to bring.
Mrs. Cavendish excused herself and left. Wes turned to his nephew. “Well, that’s quite a turn.”
“What?” Justin was staring at the closed door, and flinched at his remark.
“That Wessex isn’t here.” Justin looked blank. “You shall get your wish to be home with your sisters for Christmas.”
“Oh. Yes.” The young man cleared his throat. “The house party may prove diverting.”
Wes glanced at him with sudden suspicion. “Oh?” He could almost hear his sister’s voice in his ear, urging him to deliver a lecture about proper behavior toward young ladies. Wes quieted it for the moment. Lady Bridget seemed full of high spirits, but the dowager duchess, who must be Lady Bridget’s mother, was in residence. He wanted to be a mentor to Justin, not a nagging conscience.
And of course, he’d had a few improper thoughts about Mrs. Cavendish himself. If he scolded Justin for being mesmerized by a pretty female, he’d be the biggest hypocrite in Britain. He said nothing.
But when the butler appeared soon afterward to conduct them to their rooms, things took another turn for the worse. They hadn’t even made it across the hall before a patter of footsteps and a rustle of skirts heralded the arrival of not one, not two, but four young ladies, including the mischievous Lady Bridget at the rear.
“Lord Winterton,” said one of them, who seemed to be the leader from the way she stepped forward. Tall and slim, she was striking rather than beautiful, with very dark eyes and hair, but fair skin. “Lord Newton. Welcome to Kingstag Castle.” As one, all four of them curtseyed, and Wes and Justin bowed. “I am Lady Alexandra Cavendish. My cousin Viola tells me you are here to see my brother Wessex, who has been called away.”
“Yes,” Wes replied. “We shan’t intrude.”
“Oh no.” Her gaze moved to Justin, who seemed to be holding himself unusually erect, his chest puffed out a little. “We would be delighted to have you join our party. We’re putting on a play, you see, and haven’t enough gentlemen to fill all the parts.”
“A capital idea,” said Justin before Wes could speak. “Thank you, Lady Alexandra, we would be honored.”
She smiled. “Excellent. Bridget will assign you lines.” She curtseyed again. “Until dinner, my lords.”
Justin stared as they left in a troop. Lady Alexandra glanced over her shoulder once to smile at him. Wes took one look at his nephew’s face, and began shaking his head. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” He’d have to come back later in pursuit of the atlas. Making the trip twice was far preferable to spending his time watching Justin like a hawk. The last thing he needed was a scandal between his nephew and one of Wessex’s sisters. The duke would never sell him the atlas then.
“No!” Justin grabbed his arm. “Please not, Uncle.” He cleared his throat. “And, er, I just gave my word to be in the play.”
“You’ve no idea what the play is.”
“Does it matter?”
Wes ran one hand over his face. Four very pretty young ladies, without enough gentlemen to fill all the parts. His sister, Justin’s mother, would be calling for the carriage—for the sleigh, if necessary—immediately.
But. On the other hand, the young ladies were obviously well-born. Wes would have to keep a close eye on his nephew, but perhaps this would motivate Justin to improve his manners. The Newton viscountcy made him an eligible match, after all, even if his sullen behavior did not. It might be a good lesson for the boy to see what sort of behavior appealed to decent young ladies.
And then Mrs. Cavendish’s face flashed through his mind. Cousin Viola, Lady Alexandra called her. Not merely a secretary after all. She seemed to be in charge of the place. Staying for a few days would probably thrust him together with her, as the only adults supervising this play . . .
“Very well,” he said. “We can stay.”
Chapter 2
Viola personally took the dowager duchess’s dinner to her on a tray. The duchess had been sick in bed for a few days now, but still insisted every evening she would be on her feet in the morning. Tonight Viola said a fervent prayer that it was true this time.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” She set the tray on the table near the
