“We’re here!” a cheery voice sounded behind her. “Unfashionably early, of course, but we thought we could help.”
Vanessa jumped up and whirled around. “Gwyn! No one told me you were coming. You just had twins—what are you doing traveling? And Beatrice! You’re here!” She threw her arms about them both. “I can’t believe you came!” Then she pulled back to frown at them. “You shouldn’t have come. Are you certain you’re both up to it?”
“Do you really think we would miss your big affair?” Beatrice said. “Not on your life. Besides, our husbands have been driving us mad worrying about our health. I am tired of drinking possets. I can’t wait to have some of the estate perry you brew up so well.”
“I don’t brew it up,” Vanessa said dryly, “although from the way Sheridan extols its virtues, you’d think he squeezed the pears himself.”
“What’s wrong with a good posset?” Cass said. “I like possets myself. We received a posset set for our wedding, and our cook uses it quite a bit.”
“If I want medicine, I’ll take medicine,” Gwyn said, “and if I want an alcoholic beverage or dessert, I’ll drink some wine or eat a syllabub. I do not want my medicine and beverages combined.”
“And while I don’t have Gwyn’s objection to them, I don’t want a posset every day, twice a day, trust me.” Beatrice took a deep breath. “It’s so lovely to be home again. Or as close to home as I’ve been in a while. Have you decided what to do about the dower house? Grey is happy to do whatever you and Sheridan need.”
“I think the dowager duchess is actually going to live there.” Vanessa smiled. “Which is wonderful because that means she’ll be nearby. Of course, my uncle might end up having a say in that. . . .”
“That would be wonderful. I like your uncle.” Gwyn scanned the drawing room. “Where’s Olivia?”
Vanessa laughed. “She’s probably off somewhere trying to turn perry into wine or using ink and sulfuric acid to melt iron. Heaven only knows. That woman loves doing her experiments, and since she and Thorn arrived yesterday, she’s probably already in the midst of one.”
“Well,” Gwyn said confidentially, “we brought her a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” Cass asked.
“You’ll find out when Joshua and I give it to her,” Gwyn said. “What’s this you’re working on? Can we help?”
“I would certainly welcome help from all of you,” Vanessa said. “I’ve been making kissing boughs for all the halls and parlors and the dining room and the breakfast room. I still have about ten left to put together.”
“Good Lord, that’s a great many kissing boughs.” Beatrice took a seat beside Vanessa and picked up a piece of ribbon. “But I do enjoy making them.”
“It sounds like fun.” Gwyn took a seat on the other side of the table next to where Cass had been working earlier. “But I’ve never done one, so you’ll have to show me how. And where are the men, anyway? I wish to see my brothers, the scamps who haven’t written me a single letter since last I saw them.”
“They’re staying out of the way,” Vanessa said, “like the clever men know to do.”
The women all laughed.
“They should be coming in any minute now,” Cass said and joined them at the table. “They’re off shooting partridges. They do love their guns.”
“And their partridges,” Beatrice said. “Or at least Joshua always did. You have no idea how many partridges I have picked shot out of for my brother. That is definitely one advantage to marrying a duke.”
“Fortunately,” Gwyn said, “I do not have to pick shot out of partridges for Joshua. My husband knows better than to ask.”
“I would hate picking shot out of anything,” Vanessa said hoarsely. “It was bad enough just to witness Mr. Bonham being shot with a pistol.”
Gwyn put an arm around her and squeezed. “I completely understand since I witnessed that dreadful fellow Lionel being shot, too.” She grimaced. “Although honestly I would have preferred shooting him myself after what he put me through.”
“Not to mention what he put my brother through,” Beatrice said. “Getting back to Mr. Bonham, how is our mother-in-law faring? At some point, we all thought she might marry the arse.”
“Beatrice!” Cass said, shocked at her use of the word arse.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to use that word in reference to him at least once in the past month.”
“Well . . .” Cass said.
“The dowager duchess has been rather quiet about the whole matter,” Vanessa said, to avoid any more talk about cursing, “but not to any worrisome degree. I think he brought up a great many old memories about her first love and her first terrible marriage. Sorry, Beatrice. I know the man was still Grey’s father.”
“I don’t mind, and I doubt Grey would either. If Mr. Bonham hadn’t poisoned his father, none of the rest of us would probably have ever met.”
“Or been born.” Gwyn frowned. “Oh, let’s not talk about that.”
“I do hope that the money he stole will go back to his clients,” Beatrice said. “From what I read in the papers, he wasn’t just embezzling from the Armitage family.”
“Unfortunately, that has proved to be correct,” Vanessa said as she worked. “And in a couple of cases, he actually forged the client’s signature, so if he’d lived, he would have been hanged for his crimes anyway, and that is before his murders are even considered.”
“Joshua told me that those murders,” Gwyn said, “if taken singly, probably couldn’t have been proven sufficiently to see him punished for them, but considered together would have almost certainly resulted in a conviction. How clever of Sheridan to have recognized the ‘accidents’ as murders in the first place. If not for him . . .”
“That leech would still be trying to destroy the family,” Vanessa said. “I hope you all will give credit where credit
