Page 12 of The Swan Syndicate
He glanced up and, with a straight face, motioned for her to take a seat. “Close the door if you don’t mind.”
She strolled in, taking time to read the titles in the bookcases before plopping into one of two chairs in front of the desk. There was a paisley-print sofa against one wall and another straight-backed chair, which gave the room an air of openness, but anything more and it would make the room appear as small as it truly was in comparison to the west study.
She leaned back and gave Barrington her undivided attention even though he was still making notes. The silence grew, and instead of the ticking of a clock one might expect, there was only the scratching of quill on paper.
“Beckworth thought you might like to have your own office while you’re here. And though he might make use of this room at times, he thought this one might fit your needs.”
She was stunned. “What do I need an office for?”
When Barrington lifted his head, he held a tight grin, but his gaze was full of merriment. “Traditionally, the lady of the manor would have her own desk and stationary to carry out her duties. Some keep an office next to their bedroom, some use a salon, and others have a desk in the library. He felt you would prefer something more private.”
“Why?”
His lips twitched. “I’ve supplied you with two stacks of paper.” He nodded toward the two piles to his left that she hadn’t paid any attention. “It was apparent from the note you left Beckworth when you returned home that you could use some practice with the quill.”
She snickered but said nothing. He ignored her.
“While several of the servants in the manor know about time travel, most don’t. And it would be unseemly that someone of your station doesn’t know how to write. There are several invitations that need to be sent for the hunting party, and while Beckworth will attend to most of them, he thought it best for you to send a couple.”
She held back a snort. “And who would I be sending invitations to? Eleanor and Bart?” Bart was another friend of Beckworth’s who lived several miles away. He was a surgeon who once practiced in London before he left it all behind for a cabin in the woods. Even though it had been years since he’d lived in London, he still held clout at the College of Surgeons. He’d also been instrumental in healing AJ, Finn, Beckworth, and others during their troubles with the stones.
“I believe he was thinking more of Dame Ellingsworth and Lord and Lady Osborne.”
She eyed the two stacks. Writing with quill and ink wasn’t as easy as it looked, and she’d left splotches of ink all over her first attempts. Of course, writing a goodbye letter to Beckworth hadn’t helped since her eyes kept blurring as she wrote. She’d finally written a clean version, though a couple ink spots had still dotted the page.
There was a lot of paper in those two piles, and she was a bit annoyed that Barrington thought she’d need an entire ream of paper to write a couple of invitations.
“Do you think you brought enough paper for me to practice in the solitude of my office?” Beckworth wasn’t wrong that she’dprefer to perform this task behind closed doors. Sebastian had helped her with the single letter she’d finally left for Beckworth.
He finished his last note and set the quill aside, closing the inkpot. “The first stack is for practicing. I understand Fitz has started a pool on how many pages will be required before you can complete a clean invitation.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t hold back the snort. “Good to see everyone finds my lack of skills entertaining. I’d like to get in on the bet.” It had to be difficult for Barrington to remain impassive because there was no doubt he found this more than humorous. “So what’s the second stack for?”
He stared at her as if she were daft. “For your swans, of course.”
She blinked away the stabbing pain in the back of her eyes that threatened waterworks was close at hand. “Of course,” she managed to spurt out. She twisted her hands together, realized what she was doing, then pressed the palm of her hands on her dress, slowly pressing out non-existent wrinkles. She caught Barrington’s grin as she lifted her gaze seconds before it disappeared.
“The second reason I needed to speak with you was to go over the current guest list for the hunting weekend.” When she simply stared, unsure how to respond, he continued, “It’s a common duty for the lady of the manor to care for the guest list, the meal menus, the entertainment between hunts, and so forth.” He grinned as the blood left her face. “You’re fortunate that Mary happens to be here early.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re having fun with this.”
He chuckled. “A bit.”
They spent thirty minutes going over the list while Barrington explained who everyone was, providing titles and why they were important to Beckworth. She’d assumed Beckworth had met most of them while working for the duke,and she was mostly correct. The interesting part was that most of them despised the duke yet seemed to hold a fondness for Beckworth. The man was a charmer.
Once she was comfortable with the list, he gave her tips on how to work the quill and gave her the seat behind the desk.
Before he left, he gave a last glance back.
“What?”
“Beckworth is going to need time to acclimate.”
“I know.”
He studied her for a long moment, his thumb playing at the silver ring on his finger she hadn’t noticed him wearing the last time she’d been at Waverly. She’d have to ask Beckworth about it. When he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, he gave her a brief nod and closed the door behind him.
She stood and stretched, glancing around the room. She’d only spent a few days at Waverly before leaving for Baywood, but she felt like she knew the manor. Though the only room she knew intimately was Beckworth’s bedroom.
