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As he walked, his gaze focused like a magnet on Tricia, who was standing alone.
Lady Clementine and young Katrina were speaking to a group of ladies including his mother on the opposite side of the lawn.
Though he wanted to walk toward Tricia, speak to her, see how she was doing after her close brush with death the evening before, he forced his legs to continue pursuing his mother.
“Thomas, darling,” the countess said. “I’m so glad you’ll be able to join us for luncheon. The tables are set, and there’s a place for you next to me. You’re the only gentleman in attendance, of course, other than the young lads milling about.”
“I’m quite comfortable being the only gentleman in attendance, Mummy.” He brushed his lips against his mother’s soft cheek. “Besides, you’re wrong. I see the Marquess of Tingham with his wife.”
The countess wrinkled her nose. “He’s elderly, as you know, Thomas. Too old for the hunt.”
“That matters not to me, Mummy. I had business to attend to this morning, and since I’m here, I may as well share luncheon with my lovely mother.”
His mother smiled at him. “Thomas, darling, you know I want you to have a wonderful time during this house party. But I do appreciate your attentiveness.”
Thomas offered his arm to his mother, and she placed her small left hand in his elbow as he led her to the tables.
The sun cast a warm glow over the meticulously groomed gardens, where rows of tables draped in white linens were set beneath the generous shade of the estate’s oak trees. Each table was adorned with delicate china and sparkling crystal.
The centerpiece of each table was a magnificent floral arrangement of local blooms—blush peonies, cream roses, and lilac hydrangeas, interspersed with sprigs of greenery. Thomas was well aware, after this morning’s events, how much these flora had cost the estate. Small handwritten place cards at each setting guided the guests to their seats.
As the clock struck noon, the ladies, dressed in their finest summer gowns with wide-brimmed hats adorned with ribbons and lace, began to take their seats. The air was filled with the soft rustling of silk and the gentle murmur of polite conversation as the dowager countess welcomed her guests with a gracious smile.
The luncheon commenced with a light starter of chilled cucumber soup served in delicate porcelain bowls, perfect for the warm weather. This was followed by an array of finger sandwiches—cucumber with cream cheese, smoked salmon with dill, and egg with watercress—each delicately trimmed of crusts and arranged like a mosaic on tiered silver platters.
The main course was an elegant ensemble of poached salmon adorned with slices of lemon and a sprinkling of capers, accompanied by tender green beans with toasted almonds, new potatoes in a light mustard vinaigrette, and a beetroot salad.
A decadent dessert brought the luncheon to a close—a selection of Victoria sponge cakes, lemon tarts, and scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Tea was poured from ornate silver teapots into fine bone china cups, with a choice of Earl Grey—the late earl’s personal favorite, though Thomas detested it—ceylon, chamomile, or peppermint to suit the guests’ tastes.
Once luncheon was over, the ladies began to disperse, most of them retiring to their rooms for repose before dinner and evening activities.
Thomas escorted his mother to her bedchamber, giving her a kiss on the cheek and wishing her well.
The men would not be back from the hunt for several hours, so he decided to pay a visit to the bachelor house where he assumed Polk and Jonathan would be.
After the leisurely stroll to the smaller house, he did indeed find both Polk and Jonathan enjoying a pipe outside on the veranda.
They seemed to be speaking seriously, no smiles on their faces, until Thomas approached.
Thomas bowed. “You lads look like you’re up to no good.”
“I say, Ashford,” Polk said jovially. “Just enjoying a smoke. Please join us.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Thomas sat down in a chair so he was facing both his friend and his cousin, and he lit up his tobacco.
“Are you two finding enough to amuse yourselves today?” Thomas asked.
“You know me, Ashford,” Polk said. “I can always find something to amuse myself.”
“Usually in a local brothel,” Thomas said dryly.
Polk raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that. You’re an earl now, of course, but even when you were a viscount, you didn’t come up short on spending time there yourself.”
His friend wasn’t wrong. But those days had been over for Thomas for quite some time. Even before his father’s passing, he had ceased going to brothels. He had considered taking a mistress, but ultimately decided that it would not be a fair use of the estate’s coffers.
Besides, his father would definitely not have approved.
“Anyone catch your eye yet, Ashford?” Jonathan asked.
