Suitors and Sabotage(47)
“Did you take a detour on your return to Dowersham?” Percy circled his friend. “By way of Town?”
That would have been a significant deviation.
“Indeed. Jonathan Meyer of Conduit Street. Do you like it?” It was a rhetorical question. It was clear that everyone was duly impressed. “Do I not look the epitome of a gentleman?”
“Your mother would say that a gentleman is not a braggart, Jake.” Mr. Tabard gave his son a quick glance and then turned back to the company. “But accommodating … accommodating and welcoming. Or was it obliging and hospitable.… I can’t quite remember.”
“Oh. Oh yes.” Jake lifted his chin once again. “Welcome to Greytower, one and all. We are so very pleased that you have come to join us. We have excellent entertainments planned, and I’m sure you will have a most excellent stay.… Lawks, I believe I used excellent twice—let me try again—”
“A gentleman does not—” Mr. Tabard interrupted.
“Repeat himself?” Jake frowned.
Mr. Tabard sighed. “Use vulgar language.”
“Oh Lawks, I forgot about that, too.”
Mr. Tabard shook his head as the company burst into laughter and made their way into the manor.
Imogene’s father patted Jake on the shoulder as he stepped past. “Well done, my boy. You’ll get the right of it in no time. Percy, take note.”
“Entertainments?” Emily whispered in Imogene’s ear. “Since when have we done much more than appreciate the serenity of the Hall’s isolation? I have two novels with me.”
“There might be time for both.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about it overly. The wonderful aspect of books is that they wait for you … and are not in the least insulted if you deviate for a bit. It is merely the oddness of the enterprise. Your Cousin Clara thought that enjoyment of nature was as much as anyone needed.”
“Yes, but then Jake was not behaving like a buffoon. Perhaps this is meant to keep him out of mischief. Whether it does so remains to be seen.”
“Indeed.”
The remainder of the afternoon was spent settling in. As the Hall was a rather humble home in its number of bedrooms, Imogene and Emily shared a small room with dark wood paneling and a window that overlooked the formal gardens. In the way of many medieval manors, a small alcove—just large enough for a narrow bed—accommodated Kate.
The evening included an exemplary meal and a pianist—far superior to Miss Watson.… But none were unkind enough to say so. Yet perhaps the best entertainment was that of Jake attempting to emulate an erudite country gentleman with the prods and hints of his father. It was rather charming, and Imogene found herself in far better charity with Jake than she had ever been. Percy was not charming in the least. At first, he tried to goad Jake into misbehavior and then chose to sulk. The company did their best to ignore him.
The next morning saw Jake and a prune-faced Percy not up early with the other gentlemen but dawdling with the girls at breakfast midmorning. Emily and Imogene had yet to decide on their plans for the day, but they found the boys expected to be included.
“You do not have to play the host to us, Jake. We will entertain ourselves as we usually do and then meet you at dinner.”
“Would that I could, Emily, old girl, but I’m afraid that I have been instructed to see you happy.”
“I would be happy to be left alone.”
“That won’t work. Perhaps I can take you on a tour of the Hall?”
“Why would you do that?”
“For some reason, Father thought you were interested in architecture.”
Imogene laughed and shared a significant look with Emily.
“I appreciate the offer, but no.” Emily pushed away from the table, glancing out the front window as she did.
Imogene followed her puzzled gaze down the long, tree-lined drive. Two riders were approaching, followed by a cart. They looked very familiar. Imogene gulped, her belly clenched with excitement, and she found it suddenly difficult to breathe. Could it be? No. They weren’t invited … were they?
“Hold on. What’s this?” Jake joined the stare out the window. “It looks like Ernest and Ben. What are they doing here?”
“Father invited them,” Percy said airily.
“Pardon?” Jake whirled around and faced his friend.
Percy shrugged. “Yes. I overheard him talking to Mother about it. He sent an invitation a few days ago. And…” He jerked his head toward the window. “Apparently they accepted.”
chapter 12
In which there are missteps, missed cues, muddles, and mayhem
Stormy skies and a chill breeze provided the appropriate backdrop to Ben and Ernest’s reception at Greytower Hall. It certainly did not compare favorably with that of Gracebridge or Shackleford. No members of the family waited by the front door, the grooms were slow to arrive, and a rather frosty butler ushered them into the entrance hall with a sniff of disapproval.
Ben had warned Ernest that the invitation to join the company at Greytower Hall had come from the wrong party—that Mr. Chively had overstepped when he extended an invitation to the Tabards’ manor. It was high-handed and suspect. The only motive could be that of allowing Ernest the opportunity to propose to Imogene. Mr. Chively was manipulating once again.