He chewed and swallowed a mouthful of pastry. “Chastain and your sister will return from their wedding trip in a fortnight. When that occurs, I will endeavor to attend social engagements with you, your sister, and Chastain. Does that sound acceptable?”
“That is as good a place to start as any. Have you discussed this with my brother?”
He shook his head. “I have not. Ambrose told me he only came to town for the wedding. He has been preoccupied with estate matters.”
“There have been some problems with the drains at Marcourt. He left for Norfolk this morning. Better not to worry him with anything else.” This time when she smiled, the gesture looked heartfelt. “He told me his headaches of late have been less painful.”
“That is excellent news. Ambrose suggested he would likely miss most of the parliamentary session.”
At present he didn’t mind his best friend’s absence from London. He wasn’t sure Ambrose would be thrilled with his idea to use Lottie to familiarize himself with tedious females.
He took a breath. “You agree to my plan?”
There was a short silence in the room.
“I will grant you this favor, Lord Peake.” Lottie’s expression was thoughtful. “Perhaps one day I will need one from you.”
Chapter Two
Lottie stumbled through Dalayrac’s Savage Dance on the pianoforte as she recalled her meeting with Lord Peake. His surprise at her quick understanding of his plan annoyed her. He’d dithered around the subject enough. Peake needed to spend time with her to become immune to a tiresome female. How flattering.
The boudoir on the first floor was currently used as a music room. The chamber was at the front of the house with folding doors separating it from the small drawing room beside it, the same drawing room where she had received Lord Peake only minutes ago.
“There you are,” Rose said from the doorway. “Did I hear a visitor in the house?”
Lottie turned on the stool to face her sister. The rain had stopped. Watery sunshine poured through a pair of tall windows.
“Lord Peake called on me.” If Rose were to react negatively, it was best to get it over with quickly. Abigail had quit the room for her bedchamber. There would be no other witnesses if Rose behaved badly.
Rose flounced onto a rosewood chaise longue. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.
“We were discussing adult matters.” Lottie didn’t feel the need to pacify Rose. With Iris and Ambrose gone, it was up to her to teach her younger sister the proper behavior of a lady.
Rose frowned. “You and Lord Peake don’t get on.”
“That is none of your concern. You are very lucky you are in town. Most girls your age would have been left in the country with their governess and maid.”
Rose had been allowed a lot of freedom. Lottie and Iris had spoiled the girl since their parents’ death. Now they were stuck with the consequences.
“I wish I had stayed in Norfolk with Ambrose. He loves me best, you know.” Rose sat up straight and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
“You can go to Marcourt anytime you choose,” Lottie replied calmly. “Of course, Lord Peake isn’t in Norfolk. He’s in London.”
“It doesn’t matter. The viscount doesn’t notice me at all.”
Lottie would quite possibly spend a lot of time with Lord Peake over the next few months. Although she wouldn’t tell Rose everything, she would tell her something.
“The viscount has eyes for no one in London. He is enamored of a young lady in Suffolk. He came here today to ask for my advice on how to court her.”
That would be all she told Rose of the favor she’d agreed to. She studied a vase of flowers on a small table. The blue and purple blooms were striking. This room had been her mother’s favorite. Decorated in soft blues and greens, with the sun shining through the windows as it was today, it was a restful place to spend time. She took a breath. She could handle Rose without Iris’s help.
Rose’s face turned redder than its normal ruddy shade. “Lord Peake has a sweetheart?”
“It appears so, my dear.” Would Iris have rushed to the girl? Lottie couldn’t. She had begun to see how their indulgence of Rose had caused her to become intemperate in her manners.
“I shall go upstairs and finish writing my story about Livingston.” Although Rose jumped to her feet, she didn’t leave the room. When she received no reaction from Lottie she asked, “Why do we have hyacinths in the house? I don’t like the way they smell.”
Lottie ignored her sister’s complaint. Although she wanted to ask why the dog in the story was named after Chastain’s valet, she merely said, “Aunt Abigail isn’t feeling up to attending the card party in Grosvenor Square. We will stay in this evening.”
“I have work to do,” Rose said with her nose in the air. Her movements erratic, she walked through the doorway.
When Rose was gone, Lottie turned back to the pianoforte and picked at the keys. It had been an eventful morning. Why had she agreed to help Lord Peake? Her mother had once told her that if you are unhappy, it helps you to feel better if you make someone else happy. She understood what it felt like to sometimes be uncomfortable in society.
Her melancholy mood of the last few days was lifting. Iris had married, was starting a new life. Lottie felt restless, ready for something new. Helping Lord Peake and looking after Rose should keep her busy for a while.
* * * * *
Back in his own lodgings at The Albany on Vigo Street, Peake breathed a sigh of relief. Lottie had agreed to help him. Iris and Chastain would be included in their outings. The couple would be a distraction in case he found it harder than he’d imagined becoming used to Lady Lottie.
His set, or set of rooms, consisted of a hall with fireplace, a reception room with double doors into the bedroom, and a dressing room with a hip bath. As his set was on the ground floor, he also had a kitchen in the basement and rooms for two servants.
It was a Wednesday—no sessions. It was time he looked over the correspondence he’d avoided; although his father had been dead for almost four years, the estate still received bills from debtors.
His desk in the corner of the main room was a mahogany double writing desk with drawers on both long sides. The one piece of furniture he’d brought from his estate was a mahogany corner chair, the upholstered seat bright with gros-point needlework courtesy of his mother. The satinwood and mahogany libation cabinet near his desk had been left behind by the last resident of the set. He walked to it and poured himself a glass of claret.
His man entered from the hall. “Are you in this evening, my lord?”
He turned. “I am, Baines. I have correspondence to catch up on. With Ambrose and Chastain out of London, I have no great desire to eat at one of the clubs. Whatever Cook has planned will be sufficient.”
“Very good, my lord.”
The man left as quietly as he’d appeared.
The reception room served as both study and drawing room. His gaze settled on the satinwood Canterbury which displayed the newspapers of the day. He shook himself and sat at the desk. Reading periodicals could wait.
The stack of bills had dwindled over time. His mother had been unaware of the fortune her husband squandered during their marriage. Peake took a long swallow of his drink. His mother was an heiress, his father a titled man with debts. The estate rents brought in funds enough if he was careful with his expenditures. He’d made the decision to sell the townhouse in London despite his mother’s protests.
“You never come to town, Mother. Why do we need a house in London?”
“For appearances’ sake,” she replied. “You are now a member of Parliament. You might want to entertain as your father did.”
It was time his mother learned the truth about their finances. “Father’s ‘entertaining’ in London has brought us to the brink of ruin.”
“You make the situation sound dire, Edward.” Her features showed no signs of concern.
“I only learned about the debt when I took over running the estate after father died. It is imperative you understand how serious father’s debts are.”
“If selling the townhouse will help, it must be done.” Although she hadn’t looked the least bit concerned by what he’d told her, he was gratified she would support his plan of action.
“When I marry, it won’t be difficult to find a suitable place to let during sessions. For now, bachelor lodgings will do.”
His mother had taken the news her husband had spent most of her fortune with her usual grace. Although she didn’t behave in as carefree manner as her husband, she was wont to see a silver lining in every situation. He hadn’t yet told her of his plan to marry Miss Bolton.
Not only did the lady have a substantial dowry, Peake got along very well with her father. The baron often consulted him on estate matters. An alliance between the families should suit everyone.
His mother had been desperately in love with her husband. His father once told him he’d learned to love his wife over the years. He would hope for the same for himself.
A drawer in the desk held keepsakes from his childhood. He opened the drawer and took out the miniature of himself and his deceased older brother. James had been the reckless one, always talking his younger brother into pranks. When James went away to fight Napoleon, Edward had begged him to come home alive.
James hadn’t lived to fight Boney or to leave England. One of his pranks had resulted in his falling from the mast of the ship he was to serve on, hitting his head on the deck below. Their father had spent a shockingly short time in Suffolk to mourn before returning to town to spend more than ever.
The day of James’s funeral, Edward swore he would engage in no more pranks. Where James had been like their father, Edward would be more like their mother: steady. Someone you could count on. He put the portrait back in the drawer and closed it.
His responsibility was to keep the estate intact, and to add to it if possible. The funds Miss Bolton brought to the marriage would be a plus. He would not leave his own children to deal with the chaos he’d inherited.
Chapter Three
Iris and Chastain were due home that morning. Lottie had planned a special dinner. As an unmarried woman, she couldn’t write to Lord Peake as they were not related or betrothed. She would have Iris send an invitation for him to dine at the townhouse that evening.
“What shall I wear?” Rose asked. “You said Chastain might be here?”
“You may join us for dinner. Only dinner. Afterwards, you will take yourself upstairs.”
The younger girl pulled a face. “You’ve been a tyrant while Iris has been gone. I’m going to tell her how horrid you have been to me.”
“Iris and Chastain will only be here for a few weeks while their new house is being decorated. Surely you don’t want to upset our sister with your complaints. She is only recently married.”
Lottie hoped her calm voice and thoughtful argument made an impression. Rose remained silent and looked over the stack of gowns her lady’s maid had assembled on the coverlet of the bed.
“The cream tulle is quite fetching, Lady Rose.” The maid held up a simple frock.
Rose nodded. “That will do, Louisa.”
Lottie supposed she could wear her most frivolous evening dress; it would surely irritate Lord Peake. His aversion to her morning dress the day they discussed the favor had been readily apparent. She didn’t know what had possessed her to have it made. It really was an ugly garment and destined for rags as Lottie’s maid had not shown any interest in the castoff.
There was a knock at the bedchamber door.
“Come!” she and Rose said in unison.
A housemaid peeked around the door. “Lord and Lady Chastain have arrived.”
Lottie followed Rose from the room, her sister skipping down the staircase as she followed at a more sedate pace.
Rose enveloped Iris in a hug once she reached the entry hall. “What did you bring me from the north?”
Lottie merely smiled at her new brother-in-law, not quite sure of how to greet him.
“Sister.” Chastain took her hand and squeezed it. He dropped it gently and turned to Rose. “There may be some new notebooks for you.”
Lottie cleared her throat as a reminder to her younger sister.
Rose curtsied. “Thank you, Chastain. I do hope you and Iris had a lovely wedding trip.”
“We did, Rose. Thank you,” Chastain replied with a bow.
“Please excuse us,” Iris said. “We really must wash off the dust of the road.”
Lottie suggested, “I thought you might send a missive to invite Lord Peake to dinner. To join our celebration of your return to London.”
“Lord Peake is coming to dinner?” Chastain asked with a chuckle. “It should be a stimulating evening.”
* * * * *
Peake noticed Lottie didn’t laugh as much over dinner as he’d expected. How was he to get used to an exuberant female if she neglected to act like one? He was pleased to see her evening dress was quite simple, very little lace on a pale blue gown.
“How did you find the north country?” he asked Chastain. “Digging around Hadrian’s Wall for a fortnight isn’t most people’s idea of a wedding trip.”
“Most people aren’t married to Iris. In exchange for my visiting the dig sites with her, she agreed to tour several great house gardens.” Chastain looked at his wife, seated at the other end of the table. He said in a low voice, “I was more interested in private time with my lovely wife, if truth be told.”
Iris looked up from her plate and caught her husband’s glance. The look that passed between the couple was so charged with emotion, Peake wondered that everyone in the dining room didn’t feel it. He felt no such pull to Miss Bolton. Of course, he hadn’t spent much time with her since her father inherited the adjoining estate two years before. He ignored the part of his mind that pointed out Chastain had felt an instant attraction to Iris.
“Ambrose writes he expects to be in Norfolk for several weeks,” Peake said before taking a bite of roast beef.
Chastain dragged his gaze back to his plate. “Something to do with drains, I believe.”
Lottie sat across from Peake, Rose again beside him. He was happy to see the young woman was more subdued than usual. Her hero worship of him was quite exhausting.
“Have we missed much in town?” Iris smiled at him. “No gossip in chambers we should be aware of?”
He shook his head. “Nothing quite so diverting, my lady. Only bills and arguing as the order of the day.”
The course was removed. He was delighted to see lemon cream arrive with dessert.
“How lovely of you to have ordered a lemon dessert for our guest, Lottie,” Iris said.
“Cook has evidently heard Lord Peake’s numerous compliments,” Lottie replied with a shrug. “I foresee sweets with lemon on the menu whenever he dines with us.”
Her cheeks now rosy, Lottie kept her attention on her plate after she finished speaking.
He enjoyed two servings of the cream and made polite conversation with Lady Rose. When the meal was over, the girl, quite unlike her nature, left the room with nary a complaint. He and Chastain decided to join the ladies upstairs in the drawing room. Lady Markham made her excuses and retired for the evening.
When sherry was sorted for the ladies and he and Chastain were served glasses of port, he determined it was the perfect moment to broach the topic of spending time with Lady Lottie. Before he could bring up the subject, Lottie spoke.
“Iris, Chastain, I wanted you to invite Lord Peake here this evening as he has asked for my assistance.” She inclined her head toward Iris. “He wants my help in sharpening his social skills in regard to courting a lady.”
He saw Chastain blink a few times. Iris bit her lip. There was a stunned silence in the room. With the absence of the over perfumed Lady Markham, the faint perfume of roses drifted to him. Lottie’s scent. He found he q
uite liked the fragrance.
“I have meant to tell you, Chastain,” he said hurriedly. “There is a lady in Suffolk I wish to court. She will not make her come out until next season.”
“And you need Lottie to help you?” Iris asked, her eyes wide.
“The young lady is rather lively. She is much like Lady Lottie in temperament,” he replied.
“Why ask Lottie for help?” Chastain asked. His brows were drawn together.
“Lord Peake wants to get used to being around a grating female.” Lottie laughed, a high-pitched sound, more like the girl he knew. “I am to act as stand-in for the irksome Miss Isabelle Bolton.”
Chastain coughed. “Bolton’s sister? Are you sure, Peake? I don’t think Lottie is at all like Miss Bolton.”
“Lottie laughs a lot. She is boisterous . . .” He didn’t know how to explain further without making comments that would be unflattering to both women.
Iris rushed to fill the silence. “Lottie is going to help you. That sounds a good plan. Chastain and I will include you in some of our evening entertainments.”
“That should be easy enough.” Lottie grinned. “This might be quite fun. I wasn’t looking forward to the season this year. The diversion of polishing Lord Peake’s town manners will make my time in London more amusing.”
“Isn’t the object of the season for a young lady to find a husband?” Peake asked. He met Lottie’s gaze.
“I could have had a husband last year if I wanted one,” Lottie replied, her voice silky. “I am in no hurry to wed.”
“I’m not sure the topic of your marriage proposals is one to be discussed with gentlemen, Lottie.” Iris took a sip of her sherry. “Lord Peake, we are to attend a ball tomorrow evening. Please do join us.”
He turned his attention to Iris. “A ball will be a good start to our venture.”
“No time like the present, Lord Peake,” Lottie said. “Perhaps Iris and I could give you advice on the correct behavior at a ball. You did not distinguish yourself particularly well last year.”
Chastain groaned.
Iris nodded. “Oh yes! Dance with all the wallflowers. Do not behave too familiarly with any of the young ladies. You don’t want to start tongues wagging.”
The Favor: The Blooms of Norfolk Page 2
