Lydia quickly turned the book right side up.

“Excuse me, ladies.”

Lydia blinked up at her brother. “Oh, Andrew. I did not hear you knock.”

“I did knock. It’s no wonder you did not hear me.” He nodded curtly to the other girls, his censure apparent.

Florrie primly nodded. “The girls were merely offering me comfort over a most distressing ... er ...”

“Goat,” Lydia said, and Violet snorted once more.

“Yes,” Florrie said, her eyes wide with innocence. “A most distressing goat.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I wish you the best with the ... goat situation, Miss Janes.” He ignored the suppressed giggles and addressed Lydia. “I’m leaving. I’ll return with our guest before dinner. I’ve the basket from Cook. Oh, and I’ve informed Warren and Latimer of my absence should the calving begin. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Lydia nodded. “Very well.” The cattle were a newer undertaking at Briarwall, with seven new calves anticipated this season. To her surprise, Andrew had allowed Lydia to witness the births last year, and she looked forward to it again. Seven was a lucky number, after all.

“You remember that the Piedmonts will be dining with us on Friday?”

Lydia stifled a groan and forced a smile. “How could I forget?”

“Good.” He paused another second. “Do try to conduct your meeting with more decorum.”

“Of course. I assure you this was an exceptional circumstance.”

He glanced at the group once more, nodded, and left, leaving the door conspicuously open behind him.

Violet leaned closer to Lydia. “At least you weren’t upside down.”

After several moments, the girls managed to gather their decorum.

“Who is your brother bringing home?” Florrie asked after a sip of tea. “Dare I suggest it is a woman?”

Ruby choked on her tea and quickly patted her mouth with a napkin.

“Quite the opposite,” Lydia said. “He is bringing home a school chum.”

Violet’s brow rose. “Andrew had ‘chums’?”

“Apparently so. And that means, bafflingly, thathewas also a chum.”

“Is this chum handsome?” Florrie brought them back around to the crux of the matter.

Lydia set her teacup down with a shrug. “Last I saw Mr. Hayes, I was a girl of eleven and he was a gangly boy of eighteen with an exuberant amount of hair, rather bony elbows, and spoke incessantly of mechanics. I recall an obsession with clocks.”

“Hmm.” Violet sipped her tea. “Too bad it wasn’t motorcars. Then you’d have been smitten.”

“That, my friend, is sadly true—tall hair, elbows, and all.”

“And how long is he to stay?” Florrie asked, feeding Nibs another biscuit.

“I’m not sure. Andrew has been fairly tight lipped about the thing. My impression is that the visit is predominantly business, and the outcome might determine how long Mr. Hayes stays.”

Violet winced. “Doesn’t sound very chummy to me.”

“Well, as I said, I don’t know the details, except that he’s from Birmingham.”

“Birmingham?” Florrie asked with a wrinkle of her nose. “Perhaps you needn’t worry aboutallthe formalities. What does he do?”