Page 4 of Marquess of Stone

Spring transformed the estate rather drastically. Early roses nodded their heavy heads in the formal gardens while Wisteria fell over the western wall in tasteful purple tufts. Even the air felt different here — lighter somehow, packed with possibilities and the unique mystique that hovered around ancient structures with historic histories.

Marian, seated between her sisters, kept her bearings with trained accuracy, but under her well-organized façade, her stomach danced in a complex mix of anticipation and nervousness. Their trip had seemed endless, each mile bringing them closer to this moment of reunion with Lydia and Elias.

“Girls,” Lady Prudence’s voice had the soft but clear power that had shaped their childhoods, “compose yourselves. As visitors of the Fyre estate, I want you to behave appropriately.” Her fingers brushed an imperceptible wrinkle from her traveling dress, a gesture that said volumes about her own well-controlled enthusiasm.

“Of course, mother,” Jane said, reclining with such overdone decorum Diana had to disguise her giggle as a cough. Her eyes still gleamed with hardly restrained glee, though, and they darted between her sisters as if to share the happiness.

Before the great entryway, the carriage came to a gentle stop where ornate stone steps swept upward like the tiers of a wedding cake. Lydia emerged, brilliant as a summer morning in her lavender dress, the huge oak doors swinging wide open with exact timing. Her face ablaze with genuine delight.

“My dearest family!” she called out, her voice carrying the warmth of long-held affection. “How wonderful to finally lay my eyes on all of you!” The silks of her dress whispered against the stone steps, its pale hue perfectly matching the foliage around them.

Elias emerged behind her like a shadow of protection, his tall height and simple smile complementing her welcome perfectly. “Welcome to the Fyre estate,” he said, his soft approach unaffected by his rank. “I trust your trip was not overly demanding?”

“As pleasant as English roads allow,” Lord Silas Brandon said jokingly when he first dropped down to help Lady Prudence. She swept down with the dignity of a queen though Marian noted a slight tremor in her mother’s hand that betrayed her fatigue from the journey.

Lydia moved through the greetings like a hummingbird, dispensing embraces and exclamations of joy with a natural grace. When she reached Marian, her hands clasped around her sister’s hands, warm and firm, her eyes sparkling with meaning. “Oh, Marian,” she breathed, “I have such stories to share with you. So much has happened since we last saw each other.”

“And I with you, dear sister.” Marian returned softly. “It is such a comfort having you in my arms again. I have missed you, and all of our talks, so very much.”

Every inch the renowned host, Elias, intervened with his usual measured grace. “Your timing could not be more perfect,” he said, his voice echoing the refined tones of aristocratic upbringing. “Although no one quite as welcome as yourselves, the house is already alive with visitors.”

“Trust on us to arrive fashionably late,” Jane observed, and Lydia laughed appreciatively as Elias grinned slightly.

“Speaking of arrivals…” Lydia’s voice had a specific lilt that caught Marian’s attention right away; her tone suggesting well placed happenstance. “… we have just welcomed another guest, who I am certain will interest you all greatly.”

A tall figure emerged from the shadow of the entryway. His immaculately tailored coat hung on his broad frame with the casual elegance of someone well accustomed to high society, and his dark eyes glinted with a sparkle of mischief. Lydia’s voice soared once more, now faintly exciting. “Presenting the Marquess of Stone, Lord Nicholas Grant.”

Marian’s breath seized in her throat as realization came over her. Lord Stone. The very name made her shudder as a torrent of uninvited memories returned — he was, without a doubt, the man from the inn!

“My closest friend!” Elias remarked, clapping Nicholas on the shoulder. “Might I present, Lord Silas Brandon, Lady Prudence Brandon, and their daughters, Jane, Diana, and Marian.”

“My Lord and Ladies.” Lord Stone bowed with an easy confidence. His dark blue eyes locked onto Marian’s with a flicker of amusement. “This is quite a fateful meeting.”

Marian forced herself to stand taller, her features schooled into an expression of neutrality, but the glint in Lord Stone’s eyes suggested he wasn’t fooled by her charade. Her mouth went dry, and she opened her lips to respond, but no sound came out, so she offered a curtsy instead. The memory of the moment they shared at the inn threatened to undo her composure entirely.

“Well,” the Marquess said, his smile deepening, “I seem to have left you absolutely speechless, My Lady. I have to say I am very flattered.” She felt the blood flood her cheeks as his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on her. Horrified, she turned away but not before peering once more at the attractive young nobleman.

“You attribute far too much significance to a fleeting moment of distraction, My Lord,” she managed at last though her voice wasn’t quite as steady as she would have liked. “I was… merely contemplating the weather when you happened upon me.”

“The weather?” His eyebrow arched in perfect aristocratic incredulity. “How fascinating. And tell me, does the weather often cause you to lose gloves outside inns?”

Her heart stuttered. He wouldn’t dare — not here, not in front of everyone. “I am sure I don’t take your meaning, Lord Stone,” she said, perhaps a touch too quickly. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, betraying her agitation.

“No?” the single word was practically a purr. “Strange. I found our discussion of… poetry at the inn illuminating. Particularly that moment when —”

“The clouds!” Marian blurted, causing her mother to look over at her sharply. “They’re quite… threatening, wouldn’t you agree? We really should make haste before the rain catches us.”

She felt the blood flood her cheeks as his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on her, his expression holding all the satisfaction of a cat with a bowl of ice cream. Horrified, she turned away but not before peering once more at him and noticing he was now failing spectacularly at suppressing his grin.

“Do give my regards to your glove, Lady Marian,” he whispered as he passed her, low enough for only her to hear. “Should you displace any other… accessories, be assured, I remain at your service.”

Lydia led them to the drawing room where despite the mild spring day a fire blazed with friendly warmth. The room already held several occupants, their conversations creating a gentle murmur that rose to greet the newcomers like a welcoming tide. Marian’s mind whirled. She resolved right then and there to avoid Lord Stone at any cost though the way his gaze followed her suggested he had no intention of making it easy for her.

“Viscount Crowton,” Lydia called out, drawing the attention of a distinguished gentleman whose bearing suggested both authority and aristocratic bearing. “May I present my sisters? Ladies Diana, Jane, and Marian.”

The Viscount’s keen eyes assessed them with practiced subtlety, lingering just long enough to be flattering without becoming improper. “Lady Marian,” he addressed her directly, “your reputation precedes you. We have heard much about your wit and charm.”

Jane suppressed a laugh, and Marian shot her a warning look. “You are too kind, My Lord.” Marian murmured though she noted the sharp intelligence behind his courteous smile. “However, you will discover that a reputation often surpasses reality.”

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