Page 71 of My Own True Duchess
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Diana and Seraphina were bickering, the weather had turned from sunny to a steady rain that might continue for days, and Theo was struggling to compose a letter to the viscount.
“Mr. Tresham has come to call,” Williams said. “Shall I show him to the formal parlor, ma’am?”
Jonathan edged past Williams. “No need for that. Mrs. Haviland, good morning.”
“Mr. Tresham.” She rose, putting a self-conscious hand to her hair. “This is a pleasure—an unexpected pleasure. Williams, you are excused.”
“Shall I bring a tray, ma’am?”
“Mr. Tresham?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
He’d caught Theo in the breakfast parlor, which had the best morning light in the house. He’d also caught her with her hair in a single braid and in her oldest day dress.
Which was very old.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Please have a seat. I’m trying to compose a letter to Lord Penweather and my manners are failing me. The first draft informed him that if he was having a cow byre swept out to house his poor relations, he needn’t bother. The second warned him that I might not recognize him should he deign to appear at the wedding.”
Jonathan’s hair was damp, his smile tired. “And the third?”
“Dear Viscount Foul Weather, you need no longer threaten me with sending Diana and Seraphina to some dreary school in the north. Our circumstances have improved, and you are an ass.”
A gasp from the doorway revealed Seraphina in her best day dress. “You never said Cousin Viscount was threatening to send us away.”
Jonathan rose. “Miss Seraphina, good day.” He bowed, she curtseyed.
Theo wanted to toss the ink bottle at her dearest little sister. “Viscount Penweather has graciously intimated that should the need arise, he’d be willing to see to the education of the household’s minor females. Was there something you needed, Seraphina?”
“I wanted to thank Mr. Tresham for the loan of the French poetry book. I’ve had to look up several phrases, and I love learning new vocabulary.”
Seraphina was spying, in other words.
Diana sidled into the room. “Mr. Tresham, good morning, though it’s a very wet morning. Did you bring Comus with you?”
“Good morning, Miss Diana. On a day such as this, Comus would track mud into the house and carry a certain fragrance which would endear him to no one.”
“Oh. I can’t find my slate, Mama.” Diana had adopted her helpless and hopeful look, one of her most reliably endearing with strangers.
Theo sat back and crossed her arms. “While I seem to have misplaced my privacy.”
Seraphina had the grace to look uncomfortable. Diana’s expression became mulish. Theo hoped Jonathan was trying not to smile.
“Make your curtsey to Mr. Tresham, Diana,” Theo said. ”I’m sure Seraphina will help you look for your slate if you ask her politely.”
“Rhymes with contritely,” Jonathan said, bowing to both girls as they shuffled from the room. He closed the door behind them, flipped the lock, and resumed his seat. “They worry about you. Did Lord Pinfeather truly threaten to ship them off to school?”
“Yes.” This admission made Theo angry all over again. “I hinted that we could use a respite in the country, not only to ensure Diana knew the head of the Haviland family, but also to allow me to conserve resources by closing up this house for a time, or even leasing it out. The viscount’s response was to make a veiled offer to have the girls educated at his expense.”
Jonathan put the cap on the ink bottle. “Is he a bachelor?”
“Yes, and something of a curmudgeon in training. To accept his charity would be a last resort.”
“And you were considering it.”
