Page 2 of Holly and the Viscount
Her sister swept out of the room without waiting for an explanation, which Holly would not have given, in any case. She stood and shook out her skirts, dislodging a stray snip of greenembroidery thread from the floral-patterned cotton. She was wearing one of her best day dresses, and she’d hesitated over choosing it—but Lord Thornton was a distinguished guest, no matter how she might feel about his visit.
The fact that Rose had once remarked that the colors brought out the gold highlights in Holly’s chestnut hair and hazel eyes really did not signify.
Despite herself, she went to the window. As Rose had said, a rider was approaching. He was swathed in a greatcoat and his top hat was drawn low, no doubt in an attempt to protect his face from the cold drizzle. Still, the dark hair and the long-nosed features proved that, indeed, Viscount Thornton had reached Hartley House.
CHAPTER 2
Theodore Harrington, Viscount Thornton, spurred his gelding up the curved drive of Hartley House, glad to see the warm lights in the windows of the earl’s mansion. It had been a cold, uncomfortable afternoon of riding, and as the gray day blended into early evening, he could think of no better place to be than a stone’s throw from a comfortable, well-appointed house.
As he drew near, movement in one of the lower windows caught his eye—the figure of a woman, mostly in silhouette. She turned away, and the lamplight illuminated her face for a moment, revealing her to be Ash’s sister, Lady Holly Belham.
Had she been watching for him? He found that curious, as the young lady in question hadn’t seemed particularly interested in catching his attention. Indeed, rather the opposite, if her behavior at their last meeting was any indication.
He’d encountered Lady Holly in a somewhat disreputable quarter of London earlier that fall, accompanied by her ladies’ maid. She’d seemed quite flustered to see him, and had quickly excused herself, with some story about losing her way while searching for a new apothecary’s.
A story that had rung false to his ears, though he’d all but forgotten it until that moment.
Theo’s brows drew together at the reminder. That area of London was home to several gaming halls, one of which was known to cater to certain gentlewomen with a too-strong attachment to wagering (though most of thetonpretended such a vice only existed among men.)
Was his friend’s sister inclined toward gambling? He’d have to say something to Ash—though perhaps he should ascertain the truth for himself before stirring the pot.
A groom met him at the front steps to take his horse, and a footman his scant luggage. Divested of his mount and saddlebags, Theo strode up the three wide steps leading to the front door of Hartley House. Although the mansion was a large, square building, the rosy brick façade and double rows of lit windows made it welcoming, rather than imposing.
Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he was finally about to step out of the relentless rain.
Theo sheltered beneath the arched cornice above the door and lifted the ornate brass knocker, patterned with a weaving wreath of vines and flowers encircling a stag’s head. He let it fall, the thud echoing into the two-storey great hall he knew lay just inside.
A moment later the butler, Mr. Chauncey, opened the door.
“Lord Thornton, welcome.” The man bowed in greeting, the top of his balding pate shining slightly in the light of the tall windows and the candle-festooned crystal chandelier high overhead. Theo shrugged out of his greatcoat and gave it a brisk shake before stepping inside and handing it to the fellow, along with his very damp hat and gloves.
The Italian marble fireplace in the hall boasted a crackling fire, and Theo edged closer to the warmth.
“Is Lord Ashby about?” he asked.
“Of course, my lord. We’ve been expecting you. Your usual room is at the ready, if you’d like a servant to show you up.”
“No need.” Theo grinned at Mr. Chauncey. “A year hasn’t dimmed my memory, I assure you—no matter what stories you may have heard of my dissolute ways.”
“None at all, sir,” the butler said impassively.
Theo resolved to try harder to tease a reaction from the fellow, though he had to admit that with Ash about, the bar was set rather high. No one of his acquaintance had a sharper wit than Lord Ashby. Theo nodded to the butler, then made for the sweeping staircase that rose majestically on the other side of the grand hall.
Just before he began to ascend, a thought struck him. He glanced to the door, but Mr. Chauncey had already disappeared with Theo’s dripping outerwear. Just as well—it wasn’t the done thing to seek out his host’s sister without a proper chaperone nearby, but the questions he meant to ask wouldn’t take more than a minute or two.
He veered for the archway on his right which, if memory served, opened to a hallway leading to several parlors and drawing rooms. One of which certainly still contained Lady Holly, unless she’d dashed upstairs while he was dismounting. In which case, he’d find another opportunity to quiz the lady on her propensity for gambling.
The travertine floor gave way to a rich blue and red carpet that muffled his footsteps as he passed through the archway from the great hall. Navigating by instinct, he went by one doorway, then paused at the second. The white paneled door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it wide with his fingertips.
As he’d hoped, Lady Holly was inside. She stood before the fireplace, an embroidery hoop in one hand and a pensive look on her face. The lamplight struck gold threads from her brown hair,and her lips were slightly parted, as though whatever she was thinking of made her wistful.
Theo rapped softly on the parlor door, and she whirled to face him, eyes widening.
“Good evening, Lady Holly,” he said. “I beg your pardon, but might I have a word?”
The softness of her mouth hardened into a straight line. “Lord Thornton. Do you think it amusing to creep about and startle the members of this household half out of their wits, before anyone even knows you’ve arrived?”
“You saw me ride up,” he said, stung.
