Page 3 of Lady in Ruby
“How do you do,” she echoed, undone by the pale blue eyes gazing into her own. “Welcome to Hollydell.”
“Delighted to be here. In fact, I’m glad I arrived when I did,” he said. “The weather looks to be stormy further north.”
“You keep track of such things?”
“I have to. I am an inveterate traveler, you see. I love to find new horizons, and see new sights, and meet new people.”
Caroline felt a thrill of delight at his words: inveterate traveler. “How marvelous that sounds! Where are you off to next?”
“I’m going to the Highlands of Scotland after the holidays. Then I shall go to the Orkney Islands to visit my friend there.” He smiled, and added, “If you haven’t stood on the western side of the Brough of Birsay to watch an incoming storm, you can’t truly appreciate how wild the world can be.”
Caught by the image, Caroline wished with all her heart that she could go too. Remembering her manners, she said, “Won’t you sit, my lord? We’ll call for tea and you can tell me of your travels until my father arrives. He’s often a bit distracted by his work, but he’ll be along soon.”
“I am in no hurry.” Lord Snowdon gave her another little smile, and said, “Shall we sit by the window? No, you’ll prefer to be warm by the fire. Allow me.” He gallantly led her to the chairs by the fire, though the distance was all of five steps. They sat opposite each other, Snowdon looking quite at home.
Her mother hurried to instruct the maids to deliver the finest tea that the kitchen could muster.
Meanwhile, a massive orange tabby cat stalked into the parlor, curious about the newcomer. Seeing the creature’s arrival, Snowdon looked at the cat with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the master of the house? I should like to be presented to him.”
“His name is Mittens,” she said. He had white on each paw, hence the name. Though as he grew up, the moniker felt less and less appropriate. Dragon might have been closer.
Snowdon held out a hand, allowing the cat to sniff before he stroked the orange ears. Without warning, the cat jumped onto Snowdon’s lap and began to purr.
She said, “In many ways he does rule the house. I continually have to lock him out of the laboratory, or he’d smash all the glass in his hunt for mice.”
Snowdon smiled down at the cat in obvious admiration, but then looked back to Caroline. “Laboratory? Here? I would think that most ladies wouldn’t tolerate such an addition to the home.”
Caroline laughed. “To live with Papa is to live with chemicals! He does most of his work in London, but he maintains a lab here as well, just in case he’s got an idea while he’s home. And he always has an idea!”
“And you keep his domain secure from marauders?” He gestured to the cat.
“I do my best. I’m Papa’s assistant, you see. Not officially, of course,” she added, aware of how most men viewed the notion of a lady tinkering with anything remotely dangerous. “But he’s taught me all I know, and I like to help him in any way I can.”
“Very commendable, and I’m sure fascinating as well. What is he working on now?”
Caroline opened her mouth to reply, excited to share the plan to create a formula that could help soldiers endure harsh winter conditions without damaging their bodies. But just as the words touched her tongue, something stopped her. After all, her father often worked with the War Office, and much of his work was secret. No matter how charming Snowdon was, she shouldn’t pass along any sensitive information.
“It’s not—that is, I’m afraid I can’t say, exactly. It’s Papa’s place to decide that, not mine.”
“Of course, forgive me for asking. And after all, it’s the holiday season, and I expect that most people would prefer to discuss lighter topics.” His tone suggested that he did not care for light topics, but he was also clearly too well-bred to continue an awkward conversation.
Did he think her silly and only interested in light topics? Caroline’s mouth went unaccountably dry at the idea. But why should she worry what this man thought? And where was that tea?
“Oh, no!” Caroline’s mother cried as she returned to the parlor, followed by the maid Maggie bearing a massive tea tray. “Mittens! Down, you beast! Caroline, you must not allow that cat to assault guests!”
“Nonsense,” Snowdon said, stroking the cat gently, forestalling Mrs Garland’s approach. “I don’t mind in the least. I adore cats.”
“You do?” Caroline asked. Indeed, he seemed to enjoy Mittens’s presence on his lap, unlike some of her previous suitors, who avoided the cat.
“Of course. I don’t have a cat at present, but perhaps I should get one. They’re marvelous creatures. I like cats, dogs, horses…all animals, really, so long as they’re willing to put up with me.”
An inveterate traveler who likes animals? she thought. Snowdon was quite a man.
Before he could say anything else, Caroline’s father walked in. Although he was a brilliant scholar who could practically recite whole textbooks of knowledge at the drop of a hat, Mr Garland had the air of a man who was always slightly surprised to find himself wherever he was. This was partly an affectation—he delighted in not seeming to hear his wife or daughter say something (“Eh? What’s that, darling? Did you say you want sauce on your sandwich?”), only to reveal a short while later that not only was he listening, he was formulating a witty comment in reply (“It’s for the soiree at the Standishes’!”). But it was also true that Garland did often have his head in the clouds, and could be easily startled if anyone interrupted him during a good think.
His physical appearance only heightened the effect of vague distraction. His wispy hair was already white, and his kind brown eyes were often fixed on some distant point. There was a better than half chance that he had a pencil stuck behind one ear, regardless of what outfit he was wearing, from a dressing robe to an evening jacket. Today, he was somewhere in the middle, togged out in dark pantaloons and a cream-colored shirt, over which he sported a waistcoat that was embroidered all over with ivy leaves. His brown linen jacket was draped over one arm, clearly forgotten before he’d managed to actually put it on.
“Greetings of the season!” he called out, beaming at Caroline and Lord Snowdon, and her mother in a further chair. “Guests arriving already? How wonderful!”
