but
why? She wouldn’t have called him there on estate business. She left that side
of things to him and he had never neglected his duties. She was up to
something. Something he hadn’t liked. He just wished he could remember what so
he could meet her on even ground.
“Harrison arrived this morning,” the butler continued. “He
was surprised to find you had not yet arrived.”
He grimaced inwardly. He couldn’t remember the details
surrounding his departure from town, but it sounded as though his valet’s
arrival had the entire household entertaining visions of yet another dead
marquess. He only hoped they hadn’t said anything to his grandmother that would
cause her to worry. He glanced down at his badly rumpled and dusty clothes. He
should go up and change first before seeing her, but at that moment all he
wanted was to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.
“I knew Grandmother wouldn’t be up when I arrived, so I
decided to put up at an inn instead of coming here directly,” he said by way of
excuse. It wasn’t a good one, but Sommers would never dare question him
further. “I’ll see her now.”
“Very well, my lord,” Sommers said with a slight bow. “She
is in her sitting room.”
Nicholas headed toward the staircase but stopped and turned
back to the butler.
“One more thing, Sommers. Do you remember the Evans family?
They had the estate bordering this one before my uncle acquired it.”
“Certainly, my lord,” Sommers said, hiding the disdain
Nicholas knew he had for what his uncle had done. He’d learned most of the
servants felt the same way after overhearing Sommers speaking of it once, years
before, to the housekeeper.
“If a message should arrive from them, I would like to be
notified immediately.”
“Would that be this afternoon, my lord?”
“No,” Nicholas said, frowning slightly. “I don’t know when
it will come, or even if it ever will.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With that, Nicholas turned back to the stairs and took them
two at a time to the second floor and proceeded to the east wing where his
grandmother had her rooms. He stood outside the door for several moments,
attempting one final time to recall what she had written in her letter. He
could almost see the words on the page, but the harder he concentrated, the
more elusive the memory became.
Shaking off his frustration, Nicholas rapped twice on his
grandmother’s sitting room door. She answered immediately, bidding him to
enter. He found her reclining on a chaise lounge, her eyes closed. Against the
deep red of the chaise, her snowy white hair and pale complexion stood out in
stark relief.
He could have kicked himself for not remembering his
grandmother had taken to resting in the afternoon. He should have waited to see
her. Though she would never admit it, his parents’ deaths, followed so closely
by his brother’s, had taken their toll on her.
She looked so small and frail and Nicholas felt a sudden
rush of love for her. Aside from his cousins, with whom he had never been
close, she was his only surviving relative.
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“I see you received my letter,” she said, drawing herself
into a sitting position. She waved off the arm he held out to assist her. “I
thought that would get your attention.”
“Grandmother,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek
before taking a seat opposite her on a ridiculously ornate chair he wasn’t sure
would hold his weight. “I hope I didn’t disturb your rest.”
She frowned at him. “You aren’t furious with me?” She peered
at him closely. “What are you playing at?”
“Should I be angry with you?”
“Livid. Unless…” Her eyes lit up. “Unless you already have
news for me?” She leaned forward and took hold of his hand. “Who is she?”
“Who is who?”
The dowager marchioness threw his hand back in exasperation.
“Don’t toy with me, Nicholas. Who are you marrying?”
Surprise couldn’t begin to
Jean-Claude Izzo, Howard Curtis