When Hecate would have turned to go, he blew her a kiss, then tapped his lips. She could not be sure—no torches had been lit yet—but she was fairly certain he’d also winked at her.
Not done. Unspeakably sweet of him, but not done.
“He’s coming home?” Edna Brompton asked, ready to snatch the blasted letter from Uncle Nunn’s grasp. “Our Johnny is coming home?”
“So he claims.” Nunn took a leisurely sip of his morning coffee. “Will take ship shortly, if he hasn’t already. Wants to be home before the autumn storms start up. One doesn’t trifle with North Atlantic weather.”
Spoken as if Nunn, whose sailing exploits were limited to yachting on the Thames or a packet to Calais, were some sort of maritime authority.
“When is the letter dated?”
Nunn peered at the epistle. “Can’t make it out. Salt-sea air is the very devil on paper and ink. Looks like last month.”
He sat at his pretty desk, earl of all he surveyed, and set the blasted letter beside his breakfast tray. Edna had found him taking his first meal of the day in his personal library, which was Nunn’s term for an estate office. Never let it be said a peer of the realm toiled in an office.
And truly, the room was too handsomely kitted out to be an office. Louis Quinze desk, chairs, and love seat; handsome landscapes of Nunnsuch and its surrounds on the green-silk-hung walls; new curtains chosen to match a vivid Aubusson carpet in hues of red, gold, and green; fireplace faced in pink Carrara marble… A peer’s private retreat, right down to roses the same shade of red as the curtains and carpets.
The windows were open, the scent of scythed grass wafting on the morning breeze, sunbeams glinting on the silver tea service.
Flavia and Portia longed to live in such elegant surrounds, and Edna wanted that for them too. They were pretty enough by Mayfair standards, and Hecate could see them well dowered, but their connection to the earl was attenuated, and they were… lively. Their brother was in line for the title, though old Nunn was in deplorably sound health.
“We will of course welcome Johnny home with open arms,” Edna said. “Is this a visit, or has he made his fortune and decided to come home to stay?” She posed the question brightly. Another wealthy Brompton could only benefit the family as a whole.
Eglantine permitted Charles far too loose a rein. He would someday be the earl, after all, and he was no longer nineteen and in love with his pizzle. Not every waking moment, anyway.
And if Johnny were wealthy… Such a lovely notion. Hecate wasn’t awful, but she was so… Hecate. Always nattering on about budgets, priorities, and self-restraint. No duller topic existed than reasonable economies, and yet, Hecate would maunder on for days on that very subject.
“The letter doesn’t say if this is a visit or a permanent return,” Nunn replied, taking a bite of buttered toast. “I expect Johnny will make that decision when he gets here, though he doesn’t seem to have pined for Merry Olde. If you are thinking of unloading Portia or Flavia on him, you might consider that Johnny’s wife could end up in Canada for all the rest of her days.”
“Better to be a wealthy wife in Canada than a poor relation anywhere else.”
Nunn munched his toast placidly. “From what Hecate tells me, Lord Phillip is not wealthy, but both Portia and Flavia were thrusting their bosoms at him by the punchbowl last evening. Those two will be the ruin of this family, Edna, and when that happens, I will hold you accountable and close the doors of Nunnsuch to your wayward offspring.”
He would do it too. Hecate held the purse strings, but Nunn had all the consequence. Two towering injustices that defied Edna’s considerable reasoning powers.
“Lord Phillip’s brother is a marquess,” Edna said. “Lord Phillip is the marquess’s heir. Either Flavia or Portia would do for him quite well.” And Johnny, if wealthy, could have the remaining sister, provided he hadn’t caught any dreadful diseases in the wilds of Canada.
“Have you set your cap for DeGrange?” Nunn inquired, spreading yet more butter on a second slice of toast.
“He’s too young for me.” Also a bit serious, behind the relentless geniality. “What of you? Will you succumb to Mrs. Roberts’ charms?” Edna had lost sleep worrying about that very possibility. The only thing worse than the family consequence resting in Nunn’s hands would be that same consequence held by a young and shrewish new wife.
Last year, she’d set Charles to charming Mrs. Roberts in hopes that an affair would render the lady unacceptable in Nunn’s eyes. Mrs. Roberts had tired of Charles’s escort without sampling his wares, and apparently felt no inclination to renew ties.
Though Eglantine would probably be relieved if Charles were to stray—again.
“Mrs. Roberts,” Nunn said, “is a neighbor who shares with me the experience of spousal bereavement. She condoles me as well on the nature of my extended family, and one appreciates a sympathetic ear. Enough prying, Edna. Your fluttering about will spoil my digestion, and I’m of a mind to look in on the haying this morning. I haven’t time to waste on your scheming. Marry DeGrange with my blessing if that’s what you’re after, and I’m sure Hecate will add a token sum to reward DeGrange for his optimism.”
Edna tried, under the guise of straightening the curtains and rearranging the roses, to get a peek at Johnny’s letter. “I will not remarry unless and until my daughters are happily settled.”
“Nobody will take you on with those two clinging to your skirts, no matter how generously Hecate dowers the lot of you. You hope to get Lord Phillip in harness before he’s wise to Society’s ways, and I wish you the joy of that undertaking.”
“Lord Phillip could do much worse. My girls would show him how to go on. They are received everywhere and quite accomplished.”
“Phillip Vincent is nobody’s fool,” Nunn said, patting his lips with a monogrammed napkin. “He’s not a fribble, though one could wish he had a finer appreciation for the subtleties of social standing. His late father was a strutting, rutting exponent of aristocratic arrogance, but old Tavistock was also shrewd and determined.”
“You like Lord Phillip?” Edna couldn’t fault the man’s appearance, though he was on the tall and slightly brutish side. Nonetheless, he’d walked his horse up the carriageway, helped himself to the buffet a quarter hour before the third bell should have been rung, and had apparently secreted himself on the side terrace with Hecate for nearly half an hour.
His social instincts, in other words, were sadly lacking.
“I respect his lordship,” Nunn said. “Not a concept I can expect a Brompton to grasp. Now cease trying to spy on my correspondence and say nothing of that letter to your offspring. Ships sink even in summer, and I only told you of Johnny’s approaching arrival because, by rights, he should have first crack at the town house you intend to occupy come autumn. Best line up someplace else to bide if you plan to be in Town.”
“Johnny’s mama would not have wanted to see the girls and me turned out!” Unless she’d been indulging in one of her periodic disagreeable spells.
“You aren’t spending the autumn here, madam. Now leave me in peace and keep this development to yourself.”