Page 61 of The Defiant One
"You will excuse me if I don't feel like being sociable where she is concerned," Juliet muttered in her soft American accent, watching the plump harridan rushing across the square toward them. She'd had experiences — none of them pleasant — with Lady Brookhampton before, and Nerissa didn't blame her for disliking the woman who had so maligned Gareth, her husband.
"She's hailing Lucien," Amy remarked, looking out the window when Juliet would not. "She's curtsying to him. I can see her mouth going."
"I can imagine," said Juliet, acidly.
The coach came to a stop. Lucien rode his prancing, frothing stallion up to the window. "Good evening, ladies. Sorry to inconvenience you, but our neighbor has just invited herself in for tea." He gave one of his maddening smiles. "Shall we refuse her?"
"Yes," said Juliet, tightly.
"Yes," said Amy, noting Juliet's set face.
But Nerissa looked away. She didn't like Lady Brookhampton either, but, hoping that Perry would soon ask her to marry him, knew it wouldn't be wise to make an enemy of his mother. Sullenly, she asked, "What is she so excited about, anyhow?"
"What do you think she's so excited about? Andrew arrived late last night. She thinks he's running from some sort of trouble and wanted to be the first to let us know."
Nerissa let out her breath on an irritated sigh. "Oh, how I wish that woman would mind her own business for once. I don't suppose she mentioned whether or not he was alone, did she?
Lucien's expression gave away nothing. "She did not say."
"Then it seems we have no choice but to invite her in," Nerissa muttered. "Not that I want to, but —"
"But if you want to marry her son, you'd better stay in her good graces," finished Lucien.
Moments later, the men were giving their horses into the care of waiting grooms and handing the ladies down from the coach. As a group, they walked through the tall, spiky iron gates, Juliet coldly ignoring Lady Brookhampton, Amy distantly polite, and Nerissa feeling as though this was going to be a tial morning indeed.
The butler, Harris, met them in the house's marbled entrance foyer, bowing deeply to the duke, and then to the others. He looked vastly uncomfortable. Worried.
"Your Grace," he said in a low voice, "If I might have a private word with you?"
"By all means, Harris. Let us go into the library, shall we?"
The two moved off. Footmen appeared, all silent and tight-lipped, to take the ladies' cloaks and Charles's and Gareth's hats and greatcoats. The two brothers exchanged glances. The three women frowned. Only Lady Brookhampton, chattering away like a magpie, seemed oblivious to the charged tension that filled the house.
"I say, Lady Nerissa, you really must come over for tea tomorrow afternoon," she was saying, pointedly excluding Juliet and Amy, both of whom she despised — one for stealing Gareth right out from under her enterprising daughter Katharine's nose, the other for stealing Charles. "There's so much I need to catch you up on! Everyone's talking about France, of course — terrible how we might soon find ourselves in another war with them, thanks to those horrible colonists in America. Why, I hear that they've sent their emissary, a Mr. Franklin, to Paris, seeking French aid! Oh, Lord save us if the Frogs decide to start another war because of those vile, treasonous rebels —"
"Excuse us," said Gareth, taking Juliet's arm before she could respond to the obvious taunt. Charles did the same with Amy, and the two moved off with their American wives, leaving Nerissa alone with Lady Brookhampton.
"I say, what is the matter with them?" Lady Brookhampton asked, feigning innocence.
Nerissa opened her mouth to deliver her own tart response — and saw Lucien returning. Unlike the butler, he did not look vastly uncomfortable, or terribly worried, in the least. He looked . . .
The way he always did when he was up to something unspeakable.
God help them.
"What are you two doing standing out here in the foyer?" he asked smoothly. "Come, come inside. Tea will be served shortly in the parlor." He removed his gloves and handed them to a footman. "Oh, by the way, Nerissa. Harris tells me that a package arrived for you last night." He winked. "I suspect it's from some lovesick young swain. He put it on your bed."
Nerissa flushed, feeling a moment of excitement — and panic. Whoever had sent the package must have known she was coming to London. And the only one who might have known was Perry. Oooh! She was dying to run upstairs . . . but what if Perry hadn't been the sender? What if it had been some other man? She'd have a fine time explaining that to the woman who would probably end up being her mother-in-law . . .
"Aren't you going to fetch it down?" Lucien asked, grinning. "I am sure we're all dying to know who it's from. In fact, why don't you take Lady Brookhampton up with you?"
He gave her a look that clearly said, and keep her away from Juliet and Amy for as long as possible.
Some things never ceased to amaze, Nerissa thought. She could almost — almost — forgive her brother for all his scheming and manipulation of other people's lives in the face of his consideration for not only the situation at hand, but the feelings of his two American sisters-in-law.
"Of course," she said, trying to hide her dismay at having Perry's mother with her when she unwrapped the package. "Will you come upstairs with me, Lady Brookhampton?"
She did not expect the older woman to refuse.
