Page 23 of The Lyon and the Lamb

“What an imagination you have! I don’t see us having any accidents between here and Forty Court—it’s less than two hours’ journey. And the roads are good.”

“Only if it stops raining,” replied her sister darkly. “But I’ll go and fetch my mending now, while the light still lasts.”

Araminta stared at the remains of her tea, and wished Belinda hadn’t left so soon—she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts and her fears. The letter that had come, which would force her to go back to Forty Court far sooner than she’d planned, was from her housekeeper, announcing the arrival of an unexpected guest. It was none other than Horatio’s odious cousin, Thomas Bilson. She’d have to return home to deal with him, and as she’d be arriving without an heir, Thomas would know immediately that Forty Court would soon be his.

In fact, he’d already made that assumption. Mrs. Aldridge had not felt it her place to refuse entry to the late Lord Lamb’s cousin. Consequently, Mr. Bilson had installed himself in the master bedroom at Forty Court, and was, at the time of writing, making inquiries for a local surveyor and valuer. He considered himself already in charge and felt there was no way in which Lord Lamb’s widow—or her sister—could justify remaining in a house they had no right to.

It was an open declaration of war.

Chapter Eleven

Leo made another circuit of the wood-paneled parlor. Surely, Araminta should have been home by now? He’d been certain she couldn’t be far behind him on his journey to Forty Court, and he’d ridden Caesar very gently. He’d already done Araminta an enormous favor, and he couldn’t wait to tell her.

If only she would come!

He walked around the room again, glanced at the glass of sherry the housekeeper had brought for him, then stepped across to look out the window. No sign of the Lamb carriage. What if something had happened to her? It seemed unlikely, but to a man in his present state, every imagined action was fraught with peril, and he feared the worst.

He must fetch Caesar from the stable and return along the road. What if the carriage had overturned, or collided with another? He couldn’t bear the thought of his Venus lying hurt somewhere. He bit his lip, relishing the pain, then sat down and grasped the sherry glass.

Its sweetness calmed him. Just a little. It wasn’t like him to be so anxious and jumpy—he would never achieve what he had set out to do if he couldn’t control himself. Glancing at the clock, he saw that he’d been here over an hour now. At least the initial part of his visit had been spent fruitfully and had made an ally of Mrs. Aldridge, the housekeeper. She’d rewarded him with a tour of the house.

Forty Court was pleasant enough, though truly ancient. The grounds were charming, and instead of the more modern style of ha-ha, the house was separated from the old deer park by a red brick wall and sequestered from the outside world behind a large pair of iron gates. The estate must be a reasonably profitable enterprise, judging by the number of animals he’d seen at pasture on his ride up the drive.

The house itself was built in the traditional Elizabethan E-shape, with a paved courtyard and multiple lead-paned windows which glittered in the sunlight. The public rooms were of a good size, and the old great hall was resplendent with stone and wooden carvings, as well as a minstrels’ gallery. The attics were vast and ran around all three sides of the building.

Yet . . . there was something missing. The furniture and decoration had been completed in a hard, masculine style. There were no tapestries, no striped upholstery, no Chinese wallpaper, or ruched drapes. It was as if the house held no females whatsoever. Had Araminta not had long enough to put her stamp upon the place? Or had her husband refused her that privilege? Leo was already hating the fellow, and not just through jealousy.

At that moment, he heard horses’ hooves and carriage wheels clattering across the courtyard. Anticipation lanced through him. Setting down his glass, he rushed to the window, just as the carriage halted before the main entrance.

Thank heaven! There was Araminta alighting, and apparently, quite unharmed. Miss Bellamy followed her and didn’t seem any the worse for wear, either. There was rather a lot of mud sprayed up the side of the carriage, however. Horrible things, carriages. He had far rather travel by horse and put up at country inns wherever necessary. They were always the most entertaining places to be.

Araminta was coming in—he could hear footsteps in the hallway, and his heart somersaulted. No—he mustn’t chase out to meet her—that would seem far too eager. Besides, he had no idea what his reception would be. Their meeting must happen in the privacy of the parlor, rather than in the hall under the eyes of all and sundry.

A murmur of voices was followed by an exclamation, then Araminta burst into the room.

“What on earth are you doing here, Lord Aylsham?” She frowned. “And where is my husband’s cousin, Mr. Bilson, who I’m told was visiting here?”

It was as much as he could do not to close the distance between them and take her in his arms. But he had a bit of explaining to do and preferred her not to be angry when he did it.

“I threw him out on his ear. An objectionable fellow.” He tried not to look smug. The removal of Mr. Bilson had been a minor coup, but enjoyable all the same.

Araminta’s jaw dropped. “You threw him out?”

“Yes. He seems to have a proper respect for titles, and I gave him every inch of mine. I also informed him that I was your fiancé and that if he didn’t leave immediately, there would be consequences he wouldn’t find pleasurable. I understand that he meant to meet up with a surveyor and a valuer later, but I’m happy to deal with them on your behalf when they arrive.”

Araminta collapsed into a chair, then drew off her gloves and dropped them to the floor. “You have more than made yourself at home, sir. I cannot believe your arrog—”

Before she could finish, or give him a chance to defend himself, Belinda cannoned into the room.

“Lord Aylsham! How lovely to see you!” She threw her arms around him and embraced him. He was still gaping in astonishment when she released him and glanced around.

“Have you not brought any of the orphans with you? I should’ve thought they’d love to come and play at Forty Court.”

Leo was too busy drinking in the sight of Araminta, her cheeks flushed from the fresh air, her eyes bright with indignation, to take much notice of her sister. My, but his Venus was a beautiful woman. If only he could convince her that his suit was in earnest.

“Yes, Miss Bellamy. They probably would.” He faltered, and his pulse quickened. Miss Bellamy’s words had spawned an idea . . . but there were more important things to settle first.

“Belinda, please! This is not the way we greet guests, remember?”