Page 11 of His Spirited Lady
“Mainly because they disagree with you in lords.” Thea pushed his finger into his lap, laughing. Something Julia would have done.
His sister would have made an excellent duchess.
“What is the disagreement?” Richard asked.
“I’m pushing for child labor laws,” Oliver said. “Politicians want to change them toregulations—rules for using children rather than not using them at all. Shrewsbury doesn’t have the heart of his predecessor, and Lambourn will go whichever way his father, Ramsbury, wishes. They are in lock-step when it comes to protecting the status quo. It’s amazing Augustus is related.”
“He’s the duke’s second son,” Thea explained. Her eyes were kind. “All the names confuse me when we’re in town.”
It reminded Richard of when Julia had been Oliver’s interpreter those early days in Quebec. As a new arrival with a mediocre grasp of French, Oliver had struggled to grasp how things worked in a city that was a country in itself, especially in social situations.
“Especially when they all go with grizzled chins, red noses, and rheumy eyes,” Oliver said. “Add the wigs, and I can’t tell anyone apart. Except Althorne. You’d like him, Richard. He’s half French.”
“Perhaps you’ll find an ally when Mr. Warren succeeds Lambourn.” Thea pushed the curtain aside, letting in a breath of chill air. “We’re almost to the Manor.”
Oliver squared his waistcoat and ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t hold much hope for Warren. He seems content being idle until the sun sets.” He sighed. “I don’t relish him as a neighbor, Thee.”
Once again, Thea looked to Richard. “Mr. Warren is Augustus Chitester’s heir. At some point, Oakdale and the property will be his.”
“Except for the distillery,” Oliver said as the carriage slowed. “That belongs to Amelia.”
Thea’s gaze shot to Oliver, her eyebrows arched even as she touched his knee. “The land does.”
Oliver blinked and then, once again, thought about what he was going to say. “Of course.”
A footman opened the door, and Richard exited first, followed by Oliver.
“How does Miss Chitester own land?” Richard asked as he surveyed the front of the house and the grounds. Even in the dark, he could tell the gardens were sizable, and the fresh smell of turned earth hung on the fall air. The house was smaller than he’d expected, but still much grander than anything in Canada.
“She inherited it from her mother.” Oliver handed Thea down from the carriage. “So it escapes the entail. It’s not a large parcel, but having the distillery as a tenant gives her a small independent income.”
They went up the short, wide steps to the door, which was already held open by a butler who reminded Richard of a tree.
“We are so glad you could come on short notice,” the man crowed. “I’ve had enough oftonsociety.” He greeted Thea with a bow that was little more than a bob of his head and an impish smile. His wife embraced her.
“Welcome home, Augustus.” Oliver extended his hand first to his host and then to his hostess. “Marian.” He bowed. “It is lovely to see you again. May I present my brother-in-law, Richard Ferrand.”
“Lord Kilverstone.” Richard bowed deeply to the husband and then the wife. “My lady.”
“Enough of that. We’re Augustus and Marian at home among friends, if you please.” The baron shook Richard’s hand with unaffected zeal, adding an honest tone to the request. “It’s good to meet you, though I believe you met your daughter yesterday.”
It was easy to see the connection between him and Amelia. They shared the same open manner, and their eyes sparkled in much the same way. “She was kind enough to extend her ride with Mr. Raymond to act as my guide.”
“I’m sure she was.” Augustus’s laughter filled the front hall, which was lined with golden maple.
A large Aubusson carpet lay over the stone floor, its color and pattern hinting at the roses that were likely in the gardens. The staircase was tucked along the back wall, rather than dominating the room. It didn’t dictate that you separate either right or left or force you to enter another room. Instead, it encouraged you to linger near one of the fireplaces or view the eclectic mix of paintings that hung like windows into other places and times.
“Amelia is always happy to ride.” Marian Chitester’s smile was warm, but her eyes were guarded. “Most days, it’s difficult to keep her in the house.”
Especially when she’s trying to avoid a suitor.“I was glad for the company,” Richard said. “If I hadn’t stumbled upon the group, I might still be wandering the countryside.”
The object of their discussion was on the stairs, and Richard saw more benefits to the hall’s design. First, the upper floors and hallways were concealed from view, keeping them private. Second, the staircase allowed him to watch Amelia in profile as she descended at a sedate pace in a berry-blue gown that, if he recalled correctly, exactly matched her eyes.
If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed such an arrival was meant to draw attention. But he’d seen her ride. This pace was likely making her toes twitch.
Sure enough, the moment her feet touched the stones, she doubled her pace to reach them. She greeted Oliver and Thea first with a quick curtsey, though she grasped both Thea’s hands once she rose. Then she turned to Richard.
“It is nice to see you again, Mr. Ferrand.”
