Page 7 of A Wallflower's Wassail Punch
The green room was true to its name.Wool carpet the color of a dark forest covered most of the floor with matching drapes on the tall windows, opened to let in the dim winter light.Several landscapes showing off the Beecham estate hung on the oak paneling.To the left, a small fireplace was flanked by a side table with a pitcher and bowl and a dark walnut wardrobe.On the marble mantel was a miniature grandfather’s clock, its delicate weights and pendulum intricately carved with a design he couldn’t discern from the doorway.The four-poster canopied bed took up the right side of the room.A counterpane and canopy with the same lighter, brighter green and gold print that matched the two wingback chairs before the hearth.
“It’s one of the more masculine rooms, so we thought you’d feel more at home here.”
Andrew moved past her into the room, feeling the plush carpet beneath his boots.The scent of jasmine tickled his nose and made him think of warmer weather.Lady Annette lingered at the door.He could feel her eyes studying him as he walked to the windows and pulled back a sheer curtain.He knew the path below.It led to the stable.
“I haven’t been here since I graduated from university,” he mumbled, turning away from the window.
“Then your last visit was fairly recent?”she asked with a grin.
He chuckled.“If you are appealing to my vanity, you have succeeded.”
“Good.Let’s see how your memory holds up.Do you remember where the library is?”
Impertinent, adorable chit.“I believe I do.First floor, end of the hall.”He smirked.“Not bad for an old man.”
She snorted.He laughed.“I don’t believe you are old.Nothing about you shows the wear of years like I’ve seen on other men.Either you are exaggerating your age, or you’ve never had a care in the world.”
Andrew shook his head.“You are wrong on both counts, my dear, though such observations make mefeelyears younger.”
“Hmm,” she mused over her shoulder, turning to leave.“Challenge accepted.”
His mind buzzed as he breathed in the lingering scent of jasmine, wondering what challenge he had just issued.Watch your step, old boy.She’s a temptation that could lead to trouble.
CHAPTER3
“Drew, I’m so glad you could join us.”Lord Beecham rose from his chair and quickly crossed the room, hand extended.
Andrew took the firm grasp and shook his friend’s hand.“It’s been too long, Henry.”He glanced about the room, disappointed when he did not see Lady Annette.
“May I introduce the Viscountess Henney, my betrothed?My dear, this is Viscount Weston.”
A petite woman with auburn hair and intelligent brown eyes rose from a chair near the hearth.“I’ve heard much about you, my lord.I hope your lodgings are comfortable?”
He nodded, not trying to hide his surprise.“You’re sure you want to marry this upstart?Has he told you of his university escapades?”
“Don’t frighten her away, Drew.It took me years to get the nerve to ask,” Beecham said with a chuckle.
“I am curious,” asked the viscountess.“You seem younger than Henry, so how did you two become acquainted at Oxford?”
“I met his older brother, Phillip, first,” answered Beecham.“Their family lived in Oxford, so by my second year, I often went to stay with them rather than spend so much time at the school.Once Drew turned thirteen, we brought him everywhere with us.We gave him quite another kind of education.”
The men chatted and caught up over a glass of brandy while Lady Henney worked on her embroidery, adding a comment here or chuckling at something the men said.Andrew thought she was an attractive woman for her age.She was also practiced at pretending to be demure, but he’d seen the independence in her gaze.The Earl of Beecham wouldn’t lean into his doddering years with this female at his side.She would keep him lively.Eventually, the conversation came around to the holiday house party.
“How many guests are coming?”asked Andrew.
“We’ve invited the neighbors for the ball on New Year’s Eve and some of the activities leading up to Twelfth Night.The guests include family members and a short parade of young men.”Beecham caught his fiancée’s pointed glance.“Er, eligible men looking for a wife.”
“Parade?A wife?”Andrew repeated, rubbing his chin, then the reason struck him.“For Lady Annette?”
“Yes, she’ll soon be twenty-four,” explained Lady Henney.“Henry and I worry if she doesn’t marry before us, she’ll settle into spinsterhood.”
Andrew spit out the last sip of brandy, then choked, his eyes watering.Beecham jumped up to smack his back as the viscountess brought him water.“Are you better?”she asked after he’d gulped it down.
“Quite,” he said, wiping at his eyes with a handkerchief.“My apologies, but is this possiblespinsterthe same Lady Annette I met earlier?”
“The same.”Beecham poured another brandy for both of them.“She ran into a bit of trouble her first Season, which seemed to linger into the second Season.Nettie gave up after that, came here, and has not been back to London since.It isn’t her age that worries us so much as her fear of returning to London.”
“Well, she is a bit old for a Season at this point,” added Lady Henney.
