Page 29 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
“A pleasure,” Felix said, but Monsieur Dubois only spared him a quick glance before glaring at the sky.
“Blasted England, how do you live with all this rain?” he cried, jutting one angry arm to the sky.
Felix was left at a loss for words. When he looked to Leonard, he just shrugged good-naturedly.
“Felix, I present Monsieur Dubois. He is known as England’s premier wine expert, who traveled from France to educate the English on the proper method of starting and tasting fine wine.” There was a little smile in Leonard’s voice as he spoke, but no trace of it on his face, which was perfectly polite.
Monsieur Dubois whispered something that sounded awfully close to “English barbarians,” which they pretended not to hear. Now that they were standing closer to one another, Felix suddenly understood what smell Leonard had meant. The man emitted a thick scent of wine. He casually took a step back.
“Not to worry, sir,” Edwards was puffing from the door of the carriage, heaving a heavy contraption behind him. “I’ve brought the umbrella Lady Cunningham uses if she must travel in the rain.”
The umbrella was large and unwieldy. They all watched poor Edwards struggle to get it open, the Frenchman tapping one foot in the puddling ground impatiently.
At last, he got it open and held it above Dubois’ head, blocking out most of the rain, though the wind made it so that it was impossible to stay completely dry. Felix and Leonard exchanged amused glances. Even among the higher lords of theton,it was uncommon to utilize one of these contraptions. They were largely reserved for the ladies.
“My Lord?” Edwards gestured to the umbrella, asking if the two would like to take cover beneath it with Dubois, but they both shook their heads decisively.
Dubois lifted a wineskin from his pocket and took a deep draft, smacking his lips and heaving a sigh when he was done. “Let’s get this over with.”
The four spent half the day trawling the sodden land, Dubois muttering to himself in disgruntled French and Edwards struggling to keep up with his pace to keep the umbrella over his head. Any questions directed his way were sharply rebuffed, so that eventually Felix and Leonard fell behind, letting the man do his work.
They arrived at an old, rundown square of buildings. At one time, Felix had thought these might be converted into homes he could rent. However, all being completely built from stone, they were always incredibly cold within, and their long, rectangular shapes made them unsuitable for living. Dubois seemed keenly interested in these, inspecting the dirt floors, the sturdiness of the roofs, and counting his paces lengthwise in them all.
He looked at the two of them and nodded. “It is done. Please, let us go inside to discuss.”
“Of course,” Felix said, leading the way back to his home. “We have some refreshments prepared.”
“Perhaps some wine?” Dubois perked up.
Felix shot a look at Leonard.
This is a man he trusts?
He laughed. “That can be arranged.”
With this news, the team traipsed merrily back, Dubois’ countenance much improved at the prospect of warmth, dryness, and wine, Felix praying with every step that his land would be suitable for a vineyard.
If it is not, all of my dreams of marrying Sarah are gone. I cannot marry her if I have no means of supporting her.
Chapter Fourteen
Harriet greeted them at the door, ushering them to the dining room. A fire was roaring in the grate and the table had been laid for a late-morning tea.
Felix leaned in when he entered behind the others. “Please get a bottle of wine for our guest here.”
Her pale eyebrows shot up in surprise as she glanced at the clock, which read a few minutes past noon.
“How many glasses, sir?”
Dubois piped up. “Bring us three! We are discussingwine, mademoiselle! How can we discuss it and not partake?” He dropped into the seat nearest the fire. “It is a must!”
Felix looked to Leonard, who shrugged.
“All right then, Harriet, bring us three glasses. And one for Edwards as he warms up in the kitchen, as well.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Edwards said, looking pale from his hours out in the rain lifting the umbrella above Dubois.
Harriet had a bottle—Whitfield Wine, of course, Felix prided himself on being a loyal family member, and now it was all he drank—and three glasses placed before them, looking at odds with the table settings for tea. She poured each of them a healthy serving of the ruby liquid, and then at Felix’s nod, cleared the tea.
