Page 75 of The Mad Marchams

“No, that would be his father, but Colin is the heir,” Mabel said. “I had no idea of any of this when I met him in California. I just thought he was an architect—which he also is.”

Colin grinned as he approached them, his hand outstretched. He’d changed into a new pink striped shirt, khaki trousers, and his better pair of shoes. “You must be Dale. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, my gawd, that accent!” Dale gushed, her hand pressed to her heart. “I can see why you fell for him, Mabel. He’s divine!”

“Mabel said you work for a film locations company,” Colin said after gently disengaging his fingers from Dale’s excited grip. “That must be pretty interesting.”

“It can be,” Dale agreed. “And I’m always on the lookout for new places to film. We can’t keep hanging around Bath annoying the residents all the time.” She reached in her pocket and took out her card. “Here are my details. I’ll definitely be in touch.”

“That’s great.” Colin grinned. “Happy to help.” He turned to Mabel. “Mrs. Reynolds said to tell you that she needs you at your post immediately.”

“She’s got me womaning the tea caddy, which isn’t my strength,” Mabel said. “But I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.” Colin kissed the top of her head. “But you know what? Why don’t you let me do the manning so that you can spend some time with Dale?”

Dale sighed and looked at Mabel. “He’s a keeper!”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and Freddy was having the time of his life. The pony club were all in love with him, and the firefighters had proved extremely useful when the strings of lights had malfunctioned. Mabel was sitting with Dale and Colin when Bartle came up beside her and coughed discreetly.

“His lordship would like a word, Miss Mabel, if you have a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” Mabel got up in something of a flutter. She’d seen Colin’s father descending the steps from the house with Bartle. He’d settled next to Freddy at the head of the family table, but she hadn’t had the nerve to go over and say hello.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Colin asked.

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be polite.”

“I’m not worried about you.” Colin looked at her. “It’s him.”

Mabel followed Bartle across the well-cut grass to where the earl sat surveying the impromptu game of cricket that had started on the lower lawn. He wore a tweed suit, a crimson tie with what looked like cannons on it, and a wide-brimmed Panama hat to shade his face from the sun.

“Here’s Miss Mabel, my lord. She’s done wonders with those dogs.”

The earl waved Mabel to a seat. “Thank you, Bartle. Perhaps you might fetch us both a fresh cup of tea?”

Mabel didn’t have the heart to mention she preferred coffee as she concentrated her attention on the earl’s lined face. He had a thick moustache with twirled ends, which made her think of cartoon villains, and he bore no resemblance to Colin at all.

“Thank you for taking my dogs out.”

Mabel smiled. “It’s no trouble. I enjoy it.”

“I do hope they are well-behaved?”

“Always,” Mabel said firmly, even though it wasn’t quite true. In her opinion, all dogs were good dogs. If they occasionally refused to come back when they found something of interest in the woods, it was hardly their fault was it?

“Even Merry?”

She suddenly noticed the earl had the same piercing blue eyes as Colin and that his direct gaze was remarkably familiar.

“Well…”

“Meringue was my last wife’s dog,” the earl said. “She was horribly spoiled and something of a hooligan when I took her on, but I forgive her because no one likes to be abandoned, do they?”

“She didn’t take her dog when she left?” Mabel asked.

“Or her children,” the earl added and shook his head. “Both shockingly bad form.”

His accent and intonations were a lot like Lady Marcham’s and Mabel wondered about the relationship between mother and son. Like, were they as formal with each other as they were with everyone else?