Page 22 of The Baron Takes a Bet
Ah, yes. The letter Holly had handed him that morning. He had read it before realizing that she probably hadn’t intended on giving it to him in her rush to leave the dining room. Still, he had read the short note and knew they were expected at noon.
Gavin mustered up a polite smile. Dressed in a bright orange gown with white blossoms stitched into the hemlines, Mrs. Payne sat beside her husband, her tightly curled hair framing her heart-shaped face. Mr. Payne wore a blue coat with a cream-colored waistcoat and a small orange flower tucked into his breast pocket, complementing his wife’s dressings, and he stepped forward to greet Gavin.
“Lord Bairnsdale, may I introduce myself. I am Mr. Bertram Payne and this is my wife, Charlotte,” Mr. Payne said, bowing his head at Gavin.
Gavin would have to entertain these people until Holly or Katrina appeared. He came around the chair opposite them.
“The pleasure is all mine. Please, sit,” he said, and they did so. “Um, Mr. Jorden if you could bring us some refreshments and possibly inform the baroness?”
The butler nodded and disappeared.
“May we offer our deepest sympathies to you, my lord,” Mr. Payne said once they were alone. “We are so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Gavin said, though he felt a trifle uneasy accepting condolences when his uncle had been such a minor part of his life. “Were you friends of my late uncle?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Payne said, bobbing her head up and down. The pitch of her voice was high yet soft. “We were often guests here at Kingston House. The late baron was always so generous to his friends and neighbors.” She frowned sadly. “I can’t imagine it’s been easy on poor Holly.”
“I’m sure it’s been dreadfully difficult for her these past few weeks,” Mr. Payne said with a nod. “How is dear Ducky fairing?”
The nickname piqued Gavin’s interest.
“Ducky?”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Payne said with a quick smile, her curls gently bouncing off her cheeks. “It’s a nickname we have for her.”
“I see. And why Ducky?”
“Well, you see, when we were younger, Holly fell into a duck pond.”
Gavin waited for her to continue, but she didn’t, nor did her husband. He blinked.
“Is that all?”
“Well, it was a duck pond,” she said slowly as if he wasn’t following. “So, we call her Ducky. Affectionately, of course.”
The wit of these country folk was either the driest ever, or there was just a simplicity to it that he didn’t quite grasp. Those matching outfits seemed suddenly more annoying. Nodding, he spoke.
“Yes, well, the baroness is faring well enough, given the circumstance,” Gavin said. “I’m sure you know she was very close to my uncle.”
“Yes, she was. You must understand, Holly is one of our dearest friends,” Mrs. Payne said, her fingers curling around her husband’s arm. “We all grew up together.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I assure you both that she is faring quite as well as could be expected.”
“I’m so glad,” Mrs. Payne said, a pitying expression crossing his face. “Especially after everything she’s been through. It’s good for her to have some sort of comfort.” Gavin’s brow lifted, questioning. “I only mean, it was kind of you to let her remain in Kingston House, considering the condition of Felton Manor.”
“Yes, unlucky that,” Mr. Payne said, shaking his head. “But then, when hasn’t Ducky been unlucky?”
Gavin’s attention focused on the man who spoke so familiarly about Holly. He seemed to pity her, and for some reason, it grated Gavin’s nerves that a couple who wore matching outfits would pity someone as capable and resilient as Holly.
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, only that Ducky has always had her fair share of trouble,” Mrs. Payne said just as Mr. Jorden returned, followed by two maids. One carried a tray of beverages, while the other had a tiered platter full of tiny sandwiches and pastries.
“The baroness will be down momentarily, my lord,” Mr. Jorden said, his voice dropping as he leaned in. “There was an ink issue.”
