Lady in Red

  Her logic appeared to cause him some pain for he grimaced. “Well, just don’t be expectin’ me, is all I’m sayin’. Not fer a few pence.”

  “I shall try to hold my expectations to a minimum. In the meantime, I shall see you in half an hour.” With that, she turned on her heel and made her way up the walk to Treymount House, hoping that no one could see how hard her heart was racing. She could hear Mrs. Kemble’s labored breathing behind her as the older woman struggled to keep up while simultaneously craning her neck to stare up at the huge mansion looming before them.

  The house was imposing in structure and stretching high into the sky and well to either side. Of white granite with Greek detailing, it was a masterpiece of architecture, a blinding example of what money and taste, when combined, could accomplish.

  Honoria made her way to the huge mahogany doors, suddenly feeling very small indeed. She wasn’t nervous, of course. After all, it was only Treymount, and over the years she’d brangled enough with the man to get over any kind of superficial awe his position might hold. Why yesterday she’d even cheated him at archery. How much more intimate did she need to become before she felt comfortable in the man’s presence?

  Still, though she might have gotten to the Trading Barbs Stage in their relationship, she had to admit that there was something about facing the man inside this huge, cavernous home that made her feel…less, somehow. Which is nonsense, she told herself. I have never been intimidated by Treymount before and I refuse to be so now. This is a house. Just a plain, ordinary house. A large one, perhaps. But a house nonetheless.

  Gathering her nerve, she boldly swung the brass knocker and waited to be admitted. It took less than a minute for the door to open. A very proper individual dressed in the neat, black attire of a butler regarded her with a politely noncommittal expression. “Yes?”

  The man’s bland expression made Honoria wonder if perhaps she had a smudge on her chin. Swallowing a swell of uncertainty, she said, “I have come to see his lordship.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  Was that a note of disdain she detected in the butler’s voice? She lifted her chin and said in her frostiest tone, “Please inform the marquis that Miss Baker-Sneed has arrived and wishes to speak to him.”

  The butler looked past her toward Mrs. Kemble, who was now standing on the top step, craning her neck back at an impossible angle in an effort to see the cornice work around the top of the portico.

  “My chaperone,” Honoria said in a lofty voice.

  There was a moment’s hesitation and then the butler moved back from the door and allowed her entrance. “Please come in. I cannot promise that his lordship is in, but I will see.”

  Having just seen his lordship striding up the front steps of his house, Honoria was fairly certain the butler would find Treymount at home. Still, one must observe the niceties whenever possible.

  So all Honoria said was, “Thank you.” And then she walked into the house, Mrs. Kemble scrambling to catch up.

  The door closed behind them, and Honoria found herself facing a row of uniformed, rather stony-faced footmen. The very sight gave her pause—the sheer number of servants the man had just standing about made her shake her head.

  “Sweet Mother Mary!” Mrs. Kemble said.

  Honoria followed the housekeeper’s gaze toward the ceiling. There, suspended from a heavy chain that was as thick as her wrist, was the largest chandelier she’d ever seen. It rivaled the one hanging at the Grand Pavilion, the Prince’s summer residence. “Ye gods,” Honoria breathed in awe. “That must be a horrid thing to have to clean.”

  The butler glanced up at the chandelier, his expression softening a bit. “Indeed, miss. It’s not a thing we enjoy.”

  Honoria had to smile a bit at that. “I can only imagine.” Slowly, she turned around, her gaze flitting over each and every item she found, her sure step slowly coming to a halt as each new piece of grandeur hit her. It was a palace. A genuine, marble encrusted palace. The entryway was as large as the entire first floor of the Baker-Sneed residence. Three stories of intricate plasterwork blended with the white marble floor until the room was ablaze with startling purity. The only color came from the swath of red carpet that lined the huge curved stairway that traversed up the center of the hall and the numerous tapestries that hung along the walls.

  Once her gaze fell on the tapestries, Honoria forgot her nervousness for a few moments. They were magnificent. Some she recognized as Flemish, some Far Eastern in origin. All ancient and exquisitely preserved.

  “Shall I take your pelisses and bonnets?” the butler asked, the epitome of politeness.

  “No, thank you. We will not be staying that long.”

  The butler bowed and then led the way to a door off the entryway. “If you will please step in here, there is a fire blazing. I will see if his lordship is in.”

  Honoria blinked at the room. She was certain it must be one of the smallest rooms in the house—most sitting rooms were. But this one was enormous by any standard.

  Mrs. Kemble looked about her and promptly dropped her reticule, her eyes seemingly glued to the huge crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the room.

  Honoria’s cheeks heated. She picked up the forgotten reticule and then managed a firm smile for the butler. “Yes well, please tell his lordship…” Honoria paused. Tell him what? That she’d come to confess to a somewhat slight misunderstanding? That she needed to renegotiate their wager? That her sisters had caused her to cheat?

  She cleared her throat. “Please tell his lordship that I have come on a matter of utmost importance and I must see him.”

  There. That sounded quite interesting and very urgent. The butler bowed and then left. The second the door closed, Mrs. Kemble clasped her hands together. “Goodness, miss! Have you ever seen such a sight in all your born days?”

  Honoria glanced around the room with grudging admiration, untying her bonnet as she did so. The walls were covered with red silk paper, the chairs covered in rich blue and red patterned damask. Long blue curtains hung from the windows, lined with deep green velvet. A huge bouquet of lilies sat on a rich mahogany table, while a thick Aubusson rug warmed the marble floor and displayed all the colors used in the room, bringing them all together somehow.

  She sighed, slipped her bonnet from her head and then fluffed her curls. As she removed her gloves, she admitted to herself that it was the most beautiful room she’d ever seen. It was also the most imposing. Whoever had decorated it had done so with one purpose in mind: to remind all who entered who was really important in the world—the master of the house and no one else.

  The thought did not sit well. Honoria refused to be cowed. It was a beautiful room, but surely there was something wrong with it, some sort of imperfection. She walked to the large fireplace and ran a finger over the mantel behind the ormolu clock. Feeling somewhat superior, she turned her glove over—and frowned. The glove was still pristine white.

  Well. This called for a more thorough investigation. She glanced at Mrs. Kemble, but the housekeeper seemed too overcome to do more than stare up at the huge painting of a horse that hung over the fireplace.

  Honoria glanced around, her gaze falling on a very large and leafy plant. There, surely, would be some dust or some potting soil, or something to prove that the house was just that, a house and nothing more.

  She was just walking toward it, her gloved hand outstretched, when the door opened. “Miss Baker-Sneed?”

  Face flushed, she whirled to face the butler, tucking her hand behind her back as she did so. “Ah, yes?”

  “I am sorry to inform you that his lordship is not in. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “No, I don’t. And for your information, I saw him come in! He walked up the front steps no more than two minutes before I did.”

  The butler’s expression went from politely blank to frozen.

  Honoria glanced past him to the entryway where the broad stairs curved into the white recesses o
f the upper floors. That blackguard was shunning her. Of all the sneaky, horrid tricks to play on someone, and all because she’d bested the man at his own game. Or at least, he’d thought she had.

  She flickered a glance back at the stiff-necked butler. “So the marquis is out, is he?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “And he is not in the house?”

  “No, miss.” The butler’s gaze fastened on a place over Honoria’s left shoulder.

  “That is so strange. Perhaps it wasn’t the marquis I saw coming in the house at all, but his twin brother.”

  The butler looked grateful for this suggestion. “While his lordship doesn’t have a twin, he does indeed have quite a few brothers. I daresay it is possible you saw one of them when you arrived.”

  Honoria grit her teeth. “Perhaps you would be so good as to inform his lordship’s brother that I wish to speak to him and that if I do not get the opportunity, then he will greatly regret it.”

  The butler’s thin brows were raised so high on his forehead that he seemed to be in danger of losing them at his hairline. “I beg your pardon, but…is that a threat?”

  “Oh no. It’s a promise.” Honoria went to the blue settee and plopped down on it, snatching up a pillow and holding it in her lap. “I will wait here while you go to see his lordship’s brother. And tell him that I am not leaving until he sees me.”

  The butler hesitated, as if unsure what to do. But then he gave a small bow, turned on his heel and left.

  Only a short minute passed before the sound of riding boots clicked on the marble floor from a distance down the hall, coming closer and closer.

  Mrs. Kemble tottered to a chair and sank into it, fanning herself.

  Honoria frowned. “Mrs. Kemble, are you well? You look quite white.”

  The housekeeper fanned harder. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice warbling and faded.

  The door opened and Treymount stood in the opening, large and imposing, making the huge room suddenly seem much smaller. His cool blue gaze flickered over her and then to Mrs. Kemble.

  Honoria cleared her throat and rose to her feet. “My lord, I am sorry if we’re intruding but—”

  “Nonsense.” He strode into the room and bowed a greeting, first to Honoria, and then to Mrs. Kemble. “Welcome to Treymount House.”

  Mrs. Kemble, who’d staggered to her feet when the marquis appeared, now flushed a deep red. “I—I—I—”

  “Thank you,” Honoria interrupted smoothly, a little irritated. “You have a lovely house.”

  The marquis flicked a glance her way, his eyes lingering on her mouth. Her lips began to tingle in the strangest way and she pressed her gloved fingertips to still the disruptive memories.

  Almost immediately, he smiled. “Miss Baker-Sneed, is there something I can do for you?”

  “Oh. Why, yes. As I indicated in the note I sent, I have something of great importance I must speak to you about.”

  His gaze flickered to the housekeeper.

  Honoria shook her head. “Everything I have to say can be said in front of Mrs. Kemble.”

  The marquis nodded. “Of course.” He paused a moment, as if weighing something, then said, “Perhaps we should repair to the library, where it’s a bit warmer.” He turned toward the door, holding it open and standing to one side.

  Mrs. Kemble seemed unable to move, so Honoria gathered her thoughts, lifted her chin and made her own way out the door. When she reached the threshold, she glanced back at the housekeeper, who was still standing shock-still beside her chair. “Mrs. Kemble,” Honoria said rather more sharply than she intended. “Lord Treymount has invited us into the library.”

  “What? Oh! Yes!” Mrs. Kemble fluttered a smile at the marquis. “I’m sorry, I’m just overcome. This house…” She gestured vaguely about her.

  “It can be quite overpowering,” Treymount said, a faint smile touching his mouth. “Perhaps a tour…”

  Mrs. Kemble brightened. “Oh! What I wouldn’t give for a tour. Miss Baker-Sneed, wouldn’t that be the most wondrous thing?”

  No, it would not. Honoria just wanted to tell the marquis what she had to tell him and then be on her way. So she said, “Perhaps another time.”

  “As you wish,” Treymount replied with an easy shrug. “Mrs. Kemble? Shall we repair to the library?”

  The housekeeper tittered. “Oh indeed!” Flush with pleasure at being directly addressed, she scurried forward and followed Honoria into the grand hall.

  The marquis walked across the grand hall and to the wide double doors that stood directly across from the sitting room. As he neared the door, one of the somber footmen hurried to open it. The marquis stepped to one side. “Miss Baker-Sneed? After you.”

  Honoria glanced behind her to be certain Mrs. Kemble was following, and then marched into the library.

  If the sitting room had been a glimpse into perfection, then the library was a look directly into heaven. Honoria could only stand and stare, her gaze roving over the towering shelves, the delicate iron-wrought railing that lined the second floor balcony, and last, the magnificent mural that hung overhead.

  Honoria swallowed, walking farther into the room and coming to a halt dead center so she could look up at the painted ceiling. Good Lord, the house was beyond magnificent. It was—

  “Mrs. Kemble, before you go inside…”

  Honoria turned toward the open door. The marquis was speaking to the housekeeper, but what—

  “If you’d like to see more of the house, perhaps I can assist you. In fact, my own housekeeper, Mrs. Bates, would be more than glad to take you on a tour and answer any questions you might have.”

  Why that sneaky cur! Honoria started toward the door, but Mrs. Kemble’s voice stopped her.

  “Your own housekeeper?” There was no disguising Mrs. Kemble’s excitement. “I would love—I am honored that you’ve even thought of—I could think of nothing more—But…”

  “But?” the marquis’s deep voice followed.

  “I cannot. I am chaperoning Miss Baker-Sneed and it would be highly improper for me to leave.”

  There! Honoria smiled to herself. Let that be a lesson to the marquis if he thought to bribe off her chaperone. What could he do now?

  As if in answer to her question, she heard him say, “Mrs. Kemble, you need have no fear for Miss Baker-Sneed. I shall leave the door open whilst you tour the house. I’m certain you’ll find our new cooking stove quite the thing. My chef dotes on it, and Mrs. Bates says it is the newest of its kind in the entire country.”

  Oh! The blackguard! To hold a new cooking stove out as enticement to a housekeeper! Honoria had to admit that the man was diabolically clever.

  “A new cooking stove? Oh how—” There was a silence as if Mrs. Kemble was locked in a powerful internal struggle. “No. I really mustn’t. I should—”

  “As I said, I will leave the door open.”

  “That is not enough, my lord. What if someone comes and—”

  “I shall have one of the footmen stand inside.”

  There was a long silence. Honoria frowned and turned toward the door.

  Mrs. Kemble let out her breath in a whoosh. “Well! If you have a footman—”

  “Two,” Treymount said solemnly.

  “Oh! Well! If there are two…” And with that, Honoria’s chaperone deserted her.

  That wretch! How could he? Honoria headed for the door, but she was too late. Already she could hear Jeffries’s smooth voice and then Mrs. Kemble’s reply fading as she followed him.

  By the time Honoria reached the library door, no one at all was there but a row of frozen-faced footmen and Treymount, who was looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Where is Mrs. Kemble?”

  Marcus turned to find an outraged Honoria standing in the doorway of his library. He smiled and walked past her and into the room. “The stalwart Mrs. Kemble is on her way to visit Mrs. Bates, my housekeeper, a fact I’m certain you know, as the door was standing wide
open the entire time.”

  He found his way to his desk. There, he paused and gestured to one of the chairs that sat facing it. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  She looked at the chair, chagrin darkening her eyes. He knew what she was thinking. If she sat in the chair, she’d barely be able to see over the huge edge of the desk. Her back ramrod straight, she shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll stand.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish.” Hiding a smile, he sat down, picking up the correspondence he’d left when he’d been informed that his house had been invaded.

  He pretended to read the first of his letters, all the while keenly aware of the sound of slippered feet and rustling silk of the woman now approaching his desk. She planted herself to one side and stood staring down at him.

  It was all Marcus could do not to grin, but he forced himself to remain somber, as if what he was reading was of the utmost importance and not just a report from one of his lesser holdings in the south of Scotland.

  “My lord, I really must speak with you.”

  He glanced at her over the paper, pretending not to notice that her cheeks were becomingly flushed. Damn, how was it that he’d faced this woman over the auction floor so many times and had never truly noticed how attractive she was? He rustled the paper a bit. “So speak, Miss Baker-Sneed. I am listening.”

  A frown creased her brow. “I don’t wish to talk to you while you are sitting at your desk. I feel as if I’ve been called into the headmistress’s room for chastisement.”

  “So you were a bit of a romp at your seminary. Why does that not surprise me?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What I have to say is unpleasant enough. Please, can we just—” She frowned and glanced around. “Wait a moment. You told Mrs. Kemble that there would be two footmen in the room at all times.”

  “So I did. If you want them, feel free to ask them to come in. The door is open, after all, and with one loud voice they would arrive to see if something is needed.”

  “Oh. I suppose you are right.” She fidgeted with her bonnet, but all the while her gaze flickered from him to the door, as if measuring the distance.