Page 46 of A Stroke of Luck
“Hardly a noble sentiment, Lord Kenworth,” replied Prestwick, though his lips were twitching as well.
“Hardly a noble action, Your Grace,” murmured Zara dryly. “Actually, it was quite an ungentlemanly display of temper.”
“Should have done it long ago,” he said under his breath. “Indeed, I should have done a great many things long ago.”
Not quite sure what to read into his enigmatic words, she left them unanswered. “You seem awfully sure that our claim will be validated,” she said after a fraction of a pause.
“I am. Symonds is quite a thorough and capable fellow. Once you gave us the details pertaining to the marriage of yourparents, he was able to track down the surviving vicar, as well as enough other proof that no further doubt can be cast on the matter.”
“I—we—owe you a great debt of thanks.”
“On the contrary, I owe the three of you an abject apology for the behavior of my family.”
Zara drew in a deep breath as she regarded the tips of her slippers. “Then let us consider the slate wiped clean.”
His eyes narrowed and seemed to take on a rather strange hue. “You wish to expunge the past?”
“It makes sense, does it not?” There was a flicker of puce at the end of the hallway as the last ruffle of Lady Farrington’s gown disappeared around the corner. “I—I suppose that will mean you, too, will soon be leaving for London.”
“Er, well, as to that …” His brow crinkled. “Perhaps, for Nonny’s sake, I ought to remain for a bit longer. There are still a great many things that he needs to know in order to feel comfortable in Polite Society.” He cleared his throat. “And you needn’t worry about the propriety of it. I have already sent word to my Aunt Alice, asking if she would come for a short visit. You will like her. She is both intelligent and amusing, as well as being a highly respectable spinster whose presence as a chaperone will satisfy even the highest of sticklers. Her note indicated she is expected to arrive by nightfall.”
“Why, that would be wonderful, sir!” exclaimed her brother with unfeigned enthusiasm.
Zara, too, felt a strange lurch of her insides in learning he did not mean to rush off. However, she had no real illusions about why he wished to remain at Highwood. And it was not on account of two adolescent boys and their spinsterish sister.
“Could we take a gallop in the south meadow before nuncheon?” went on Nonny. “You said I was showing a firm enough seat to attempt the fences.”
“So I did.” He touched the lad’s shoulder. “Very well. Go ahead and have Givens saddle our mounts.” As Nonny hurried off, Prestwick hung back. “You need not have any fears, Miss Greeley,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her pinched expression. “Your brother is quite safe with me …”
Ha. If only the same could be said for herself.
“I will see that he doesn’t attempt anything foolish.”
Zara gave an inward grimace, feeling that of the Greeley family, it was she who was in danger of acting the fool.
The shriek reverberatedthrough the hallway, followed by a series of jolting thuds. Jumping up from the letter she had been penning, Zara rushed into the foyer, just in time to catch sight of a large leather valise bouncing down the last few steps of the staircase.
“Odious creature!”
The butler struggled to maintain an impassive countenance as Harold came skittering down right behind it, his face the same flushed hue as the crimson stripes of his waistcoat. “Rusher, take that out to the carriage.” The bag gave a little lurch, causing the duke’s cousin to jump back a step. “A-And remove whatever is wriggling around inside it before placing it in the boot.”
“Begging your pardon sir, but as His Lordship has issued no orders to me concerning the handling of luggage, I shall have to await his request.”
Zara didn’t blame the fellow for allowing a hint of smugness to creep into his voice. No doubt Harold and his grandmother had been insufferably overbearing in lording it over the servants of their late relative.
“He is out riding with the duke,” continued Rusher. “And I don’t know when they plan to return.”
“B-but …” wailed Harold.
Much as she was amused by the rather greenish cast that had come over his face, she had no wish to regard it any longer than necessary. “You might as well carry it out, Rusher,” she murmured. “Otherwise we may have to endure his caterwauling all afternoon.”
“Yes, miss.” As he passed, she thought she detected a wink.
Taking hold of the handle, the butler gave the valise a sideways shake. Out popped a large frog, who, after a loud croak, made a flying leap toward the open door. It made it onto the marble landing, then quickly disappeared into the shrubbery.
Harold, his own legs pumping nearly as hard, was not far behind, his mad dash sending up a spray of gravel as he hastened to gain the relative safety of his grandmother’s ancient barouche.
“Hah! I guess that sent him hopping.” Perry peeked down from between the varnished balustrades.
