She stiffened. Maybe he meant nothing by it, but she thought there was a reprimand in his comment. This was rich, considering he was here in Little Bridgeton so clearly wasn’t looking after his own estates or keeping an eye on his agent.
Though if she were honest, perhaps there was some truth in what he was saying. Her agent was used to doing things his way and sometimes ignored her instructions.
Perhaps Luc wasn’t such a fop after all. And if he did supervise his agent, then surely by now he must have estate matters to attend to. Optimistically she asked, “Does that mean you will be leaving us soon?”
He shook his head. “Lyons and I have decided this is a good place to rusticate and enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. He hasn’t stayed in his shooting box for years and has found a lot to do. A good example of how agents need close supervision. To that end, I’ve ensured that I r
eceive regular reports on all my estates, even here.” Looking directly at her, he added smoothly, “I haven’t been to this part of the country for a long time and am surprised at the delightful hunting opportunities it has to offer.”
Ria frowned. He surely meant hunting animals, but the way he looked at her… She shivered, feeling sympathy for any fox or pheasant he set his eyes on.
At that moment they reached St. James Manor, saving her the trouble of coming up with a polite response.
She drew the horse to a halt in front of the manor and prepared to get down from the gig. Both Luc and groom reached her at the same time. However, one look from Lord Arden was enough to make her groom step back with a stammered apology.
Ria gazed down at the earl. What was it about him that had that effect on people? Whatever it was had the opposite effect on her.
Luc, instead of offering his hand, reached up and lifted her down. As he set her gently on the ground, he looked into her eyes, his warm hands lingering on her waist.
Finding herself leaning toward him, she quickly averted her gaze. Keeping her eyes lowered, she walked briskly into the oval entrance hall of the manor, her quick footsteps tapping out an echo on the cream stone floor with its black marble inlays.
The entrance hall usually had a soothing effect on her. The graceful cream walls and the ceiling with its delicate plasterwork and roundels painted with scenes from classical mythology created a sense of tranquility.
It was not soothing today. She had her unwelcome guest to thank for that.
Politeness dictated she offer him refreshments.
Handing her bonnet and pelisse to Flowerday, Ria was about to lead her unwelcome guest into the drawing room when she paused.
She needed reinforcements.
Turning back to Flowerday, she asked, “Where are the ladies at the moment?”
As he took Lord Arden’s coat and hat, Flowerday replied, “In the library, madam.”
Smiling wickedly, she led her unsuspecting guest there.
As they entered the room, the floral Aubusson carpet muffled their footsteps. At first glance, there was nothing untoward in the library. Fitted bookcases lined the room, topped by impressive paintings in ornate gilt frames. Arranged around low tables throughout the large rectangular room were sofas and chairs.
Sitting in two of these chairs drawn up to a small table, a couple of elderly ladies were playing cards. Two others, somewhat younger, were writing letters at a large leather-topped library table. Seated before the elaborately carved fireplace was Monty.
One of the ladies looked up and saw them standing in the doorway. With a happy cry, she called to the others, “We have company. Oh, how delightful.”
At her words, all the ladies rose to their feet and flocked toward Ria and the earl. She glanced at Lord Arden’s face to judge his reaction, but it was carefully impassive. Perhaps the very absence of emotion was telling.
Smiling, she introduced him to her late husband’s aunts and cousins.
As she did so, Aunt Charity picked up her gold quizzing glass by its handle. Peering at him through it, she looked him up. Then down. Then back up again, lingering for a while in the region of his midriff. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her as, after one last sweep up and down, she gave him a beaming smile.
After introductions were made, Ria was sure he would soon make his excuses and flee. With the exception of Monty and the vicar, Mr. Brown, men found the ladies en masse overwhelming.
She began to anticipate the nice warming cup of rose-flavored hot chocolate she would ask Flowerday for once he’d gone. But much to her chagrin, he showed no sign at all of being ready to leave. If anything, he looked charmed by the ladies and quite relaxed as he effortlessly engaged them in conversation.
She watched Aunt Faith reach into her reticule, pull out a silver snuffbox, open the lid, and offer it to him. With a smile, he politely declined. “Thank you, but no.”
“I know it’s not as fashionable as it once was, but my dear late husband was very fond of snuff.” Leaning over, she confided to him in a whisper Ria was sure could be heard in the kitchen, perhaps even in the stables, “He loved sniffing it from my arm.” She smiled at him knowingly.
It was hard for Ria to be sure from where she was sitting, but it looked like Aunt Faith winked at him. Or perhaps it was a twitch. She then took a pinch of snuff and raised it to her nose. What followed was a long series of explosive sneezes.