Page 13 of Redemption for the Baron

Tresham’s attention snapped from the books to his lordship. “No, I do not.”

Alastair hesitated only a fraction before waving off the concern. “Not an issue. We’ll be playing here in the library. You’ll be among us, even if not at the tables. Take your time with the books. Should anything pique your interest, I’d be glad to discuss it.”

Tresham’s lips quirked, his gaze sweeping the shelves once more. “I suspect there is more hidden in these pages than meets the eye, my lord.”

Alastair chuckled. “Scholars and their secrets.”

With that, he strode out, already anticipating Marjory’s relief at his solution.

Chapter Four

Marjory exhaled. Herexpression shifted from playful amusement to a trace of lingering frustration as her husband disappeared down the hall. “Men,” she muttered with a sigh. “They always seem to think that with enough patience, every problem will sort itself out.”

“We still have one more lady than gentleman for the weekend, and he’s content to leave it to fate. I’d rather not begin the house party with an imbalance that sets tongues wagging.”

Marjory took a deep breath and turned to Bridget as she lifted the teapot with practiced ease. “Did you sleep well? I know you had an awful experience last night.” She poured the tea slowly, her movements composed and careful.

Bridget nodded. “Yes, thank you. I was warm and dry before I knew it.” But her shoulders hadn’t yet eased. The memory of the rain and the mud clung to her skin, no matter how she tried to forget it.

Marjory offered her the teacup. Steam rose in delicate curls, fragrant and comforting. Bridget inhaled it, but her thoughts had already begun to wander elsewhere.

The rain. The road. The captain with the steady blue eyes.

She had spent half the night trying to forget him and the other half wondering why she couldn’t. It was foolish, she knew. He was likely no more than a soldier passing through, and yet the memory clung to her like damp wool.

“And thank you for sending breakfast up this morning.” Bridget accepted the cup with a small, grateful smile. “It was a bit decadent, but I enjoyed the sunshine, and the view of the garden made it a delightful treat.” She paused to savor the tea, adding, “And thank goodness for no rain.”

Setting her cup aside, she glanced at the papers scattered before Marjory. “Now, where shall we begin?”

Marjory sighed and ran a hand over the guest list. “I thought I’d arranged everything perfectly, but with one less gentleman, the balance is thrown into disarray, assuming Mark’s friend doesn’t cancel as well.” Her gaze drifted toward the door. “Mark may have a solution, though his mind has been elsewhere of late. I suppose we’ll just have to plan around it.”

“We can review what you have and see where we need to make adjustments,” Bridget offered as she leaned in and studied the list.

Several heartbeats later, Bridget raised her head. “I hadn’t realized Lord Byron Davenport was attending.”

“Indeed, he was one of the first to respond.” Marjory rolled her eyes. “He’s quite the chatterbox, especially about horses.”

Bridget smiled slyly. “Perhaps we should seat him next to Lady Carlisle. From what I recall from your soiree in London, they are two of a kind. Besides her fascination with horses, I’m not sure which one of them can out-chatter the other.”

Marjory let out an unladylike snort and waved a hand at the list. “I’m not sure you’ve met everyone yet. Lord Barrington and his ever-gracious companion, Mrs. Bainbridge will be joining us. They never fail to brighten a room. Then there’s my dear friend, Miss Penelope Hathaway, who has agreed to delight us with a few rousing tunes on the pianoforte. As for Miss Arabella Gray, she’s a veritable butterfly, vivacious and flitting from one sparkling conversation to the next. And finally, there’s SirFrederick Townsend, a quiet, down-to-earth man with a keen mind. I daresay his company will be most engaging.”

“It looks like Lord Blackwood and Lady Worthington complete your list,” Bridget observed, lifting her head. “But it’s a bit uneven, seven women and only five men. Besides the one gentleman who sent his regrets, who’s the other missing mystery man?”

“A friend of Mark’s,” Marjory replied with a dismissive flick of her hand. “I prefer not to write him off until I get his response. Perhaps Mark can persuade him to bring a companion.”

Bridget only half-listened. The house party was a world unto itself, intriguing, yes, but hardly what occupied her thoughts. Still, she conceded that the evening might pass quicker with good company, and after all, even the most meticulously arranged gatherings held their share of surprises.

Alastair returned to the drawing room with a casual, triumphant smile playing on his lips.

“That was rather quick. What was all that about?” Marjory asked.

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Fortune has smiled upon us, my dear. We are no longer short a gentleman.”

Marjory raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing her tone. “Indeed? And who is to be our savior?”

Stepping closer, he poured himself a cup before answering. “Edgar Tresham, a historian of some renown, well-versed in rare texts. He came to discuss matters concerning my library.”

Marjory’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you invited him to stay?”

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