With that probably useless admonition, he resumed his perambulation about the lawns.
Amelia wasn't surprised when Sugden caught up with them in time to swing the kennel doors open. She turned to the children. "Now we need to be quiet and not excite the pack. We have to go right to the end to see the puppies. All right?"
They all nodded. "It's the firs' time we seen the whole lot, all together," the little spokeswoman whispered. She clutched Amelia's hand tighter; Sugden waved them in and the procession stepped out, marching two by two down the central aisle.
Amelia heard soft "Oohs" and "Aahs"; she glanced back and saw many of the older children studying the hounds with rapt attention. The oldest boy, at the rear, turned and spoke to Sugden, following them. Sugden shook his head. "Nay — best not to pat these. If you do, they'll expect to be taken out, and then they'll be right grumpy when we leave without 'em."
The boy accepted the prohibition with a nod, yet his gaze went back to the older dogs, many coming to the front of the pens to watch them pass, ears lifting, heads cocking with curiosity. Facing forward, Amelia wondered how many lads Sugden used in the kennels. Perhaps he could use one more?
Then they reached Galahad; from that moment on, none of the children had eyes for much else. They were captivated; the pup took their attention and worship in his stride, wuffling about their feet, sniffing hands, licking this one, then that. Fifteen minutes passed in a blink; noticing Sugden shifting, Amelia reclaimed Galahad, tickled his tummy, then sent him back to his mama. Then she firmly reversed her entourage, and they filed, satisfied, whispering and exclaiming among themselves, out of the kennels, back into the deepening twilight.
The children streamed on, down the short path leading back to the lawns. With pretty thanks and bobbed curtsies, the two girls who had clung to Amelia's and Portia's hands made their adieus and scampered after their elders.
Sugden nodded to Amelia and Portia as he swun
g the doors shut. "I'll just be checking 'round about. Make sure all's tight."
Amelia met his glance, nodded. "We're going straight back."
She turned, noting Portia's quick frown. Linking her arm in Portia's, she steered them both down the path in the children's wake. She was about to make some inconsequential remark to distract Portia from Sugden's sudden attention to security when Portia stiffened.
Looking up, Amelia saw a gentleman standing by the side of the path just ahead. They were nearly upon him yet until then, she hadn't noticed him, large though he was; he'd been standing so still in the shadows of a large bush, he'd been all but invisible.
Portia slowed, uncertain.
Amelia called up her hostessly armor, put on her lady-of-the-manor smile, and halted. "Good evening. I'm Lady Calverton. Can I help you?"
A flash of teeth was followed by a neat bow. "No, no — I merely thought I heard dogs and wondered…"
A London accent, cultured enough, yet… "My husband's kennels are extensive."
"So I see." Another flash of teeth; the gentleman bowed. "My compliments on the evening, Lady Calverton. If you'll excuse me?"
He barely waited for any nod before strolling off, back onto the lawns, into the crowd. Amelia watched him go. "Who is he — do you know?"
She and Portia walked on more slowly in the same direction.
Portia shook her head. "He's not from about here."
Amelia couldn't recall being introduced to him. The man was as tall as Luc, but much more heavily built; not the sort of figure one forgot. From what she'd seen in the shadows and fading light, he'd been reasonably well dressed, but his coat hadn't come from a tailor patronized by the ton, nor had his boots — she was quite sure of that.
Portia shrugged. "I daresay he's come with the Farrells, or the Tibertsons. They have relatives from all over staying every summer."
"Doubtless that's it."
She and Portia merged with the crowd, increasingly festive. Amelia glanced at the sky, but it was still too early for the fireworks; at this time of year, the twilights stretched for hours.
They drifted to the area where dancers twirled to the music of three fiddlers. Others ringed the dancers, clapping and smiling, laughing and joking. Despite being created to serve an entirely different purpose, the evening looked set to be a resounding success on the social front — everyone was having a thoroughly good time.
The dance ended; exhausted, dancers sagged. The fiddlers lowered their bows, but only to agree on their next piece. Then they set to again. Laughing, some dancers staggered off while others took their place, twirling and whirling through a sprightly gig.
Cool fingers slid around Amelia's hand.
She looked up to find Luc beside her.
He met her gaze. "Come — let's join in."
She hesitated; on her other side, Portia drew her hand from her arm and gave her a nudge. "Yes. Do. You're supposed to lead the way."