And Then She Fell (The Cynster Sisters Duo 1)

“Fortescue appears perfectly personable, and he seems assured and experienced.”

“He is, as are the rest.”

“In that case,” Henrietta met his eyes and smiled, “they’ll do nicely. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find experienced staff in London?”

“None at all.” Releasing her hand, James opened the double doors and set them wide. He waved her in. “Behold—your future drawing room.”

Over the next hour, he learned that while his bride-to-be projected the image of a young lady sometimes distressingly practical, with no overt liking for the usual feminine fripperies, there was another Henrietta lurking inside; as he showed her around his grandaunt’s house—now his and soon to be theirs—another side of her emerged, one he found enchanting.

Henrietta was delighted—far more than she had thought she would be—with the house. The house she was soon to be mistress of; doubtless that fact sharpened her interest and made her more aware, certainly more prepared to be critical, yet, instead, she found herself walking by James’s side through rooms that, in a nutshell, felt like home.

Like her home.

They inspected the formal drawing room, neither overly large, nor cramped in the least, but a perfect blend of comfort allied with fashionable formal simplicity. Clean lines dominated, with Hepplewhite furniture arranged on a silky Aubusson rug spread over mellow oak boards, and the green and ivory color scheme met with her complete approval.

The dining room behind it was impressive in its richly paneled, restrained sumptuousness, while the long library, and the smaller connected parlor that lay at the back of the house, its windows overlooking the rear garden, were simply a delight.

Standing before the window looking out into the lushly planted garden, she spread her arms wide and, with a thoroughly silly smile on her face, spun in a slow circle. “I can see us here.” Even she heard the happiness in her voice. “You in the library, sitting at the desk working on your papers, and me, here, sitting at that escritoire and writing letters.”

James smiled back, one of his lazy, charming smiles. “I can pop in and visit whenever I wish—or you can come and interrupt me.”

She grinned back. Hand in hand, they returned through the library to the front hall and started up the curving staircase. The balustrade was smooth, polished wood; there was not a speck of dust to be seen, even though the house had lacked a mistress for nearly a year. “How many staff are there?”

“As well as Trimble, Fortescue, and Mrs. Rollins, there’s Cook, two maids, a footman, a kitchen boy and a scullery maid. But we can hire more staff if you wish.”

She shook her head. “That sounds ample, at least to start with. I’ll bring my maid, Hannah, with me, of course.” She glanced at him as they stepped into the gallery. “Did your grandaunt spend much time here?”

“Actually, she spent almost half the year here—she was always in town for the full Season, and she would return for the Autumn Session. She was quite interested in politics, strange to say, and kept abreast of everything going on.”

Henrietta insisted on looking into all the rooms on the first floor. “It will be helpful if I have some idea of the accommodations in case we need to put up any extra guests for the wedding.” She halted in the corridor and looked at James. “Do your parents have a house in town? Or will they and your brother put up here, with you?”

“They have a house in Chesterfield Street, and although it’s been more or less shut up for several years, I think my brother, if not my parents, need an excuse to use it again, so I’m not going to offer to put them up here. Besides”—James caught her eye—“if you and I are to return here after the wedding, then we won’t want to have houseguests.”

“Ah.” Lips lifting, she nodded. “I take your point.” Then she flashed him a grin, whirled, and walked on to the last door at the end of the corridor. “What’s in here?” Opening the door, she crossed the threshold into what was clearly the master bedroom.

Larger than all the other bedrooms, the room was L-shaped. Directly before the door lay a wide sitting area with comfortable armchairs covered in tan leather angled before a hearth. A large autumnal landscape in a heavy gilt frame filled the wall above the carved oak mantelpiece, and the walls and furnishings were decorated in muted shades of gold and warm browns.

The sitting area ran the length of the longer arm of the L; windows flanked the fireplace, and when Henrietta turned toward the base of the L, she found herself facing another wide window overlooking the rear gardens. This room, she realized, ran above part of the library and all of the adjoining parlor.

She walked on to where she could better view the massive, carved oak, four-poster bed that dominated the shorter arm of the room, its ornate head against the end wall. The warm, autumnal decor continued, with cream sheets, gold satin bedspread, and russet-and-gold brocade canopy and curtains tied up with tasseled gold cords.

The tallboys and dressers were all oak, all substantial; with the heaviness of the furniture offset by the soft tones of the decor and the rich detail of the landscapes again decorating the walls, the room was a curious blend of male and female.

James was studying her face as if trying to gauge her reaction. “Grandaunt Emily wasn’t overly fond of frills and lace.”

Henrietta met his eyes and smiled. “That’s probably why her style so appeals to me—I’m not overly fond of frills and lace either.”

He breathed out, and she allowed her smile to deepen. “What’s through there?” She pointed to two doors spaced along the inner wall. There were clear pathways along both sides of the bed, the one further from the windows, giving access to those two doors, ending at another, third, closed door.

James strolled across, opened the nearer door and set it swinging. “My dressing room.”

Following him, Henrietta peeked in, glimpsing more tallboys and chests, with the usual paraphernalia of brushes and grooming implements laid out neatly on top.

Then James walked on to the next door, opened it, and waved her in. “This will be yours.”

She walked on and entered a lady’s closet with extensive wardrobes and cupboards, and a dressing table with adjustable mirrors. “Are these from your grandaunt’s day?”

James nodded. “Despite her age, she liked to keep up with the latest improvements.” He caught her eye and tipped his head toward a door at the far end of the narrow room, opposite the door through which they’d entered. “Speaking of which, take a look through there.”