Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(62)

The butler had a stern face that might have been carved from granite. She smiled at him and began to fumble in her reticule for the letter from Lily. “Sir, I have an invitation from Lady Raiford—”

He seemed to recognize her, perhaps from Lily’s description. “Of course, Miss Fielding.” He glanced over her plain gray gown and traveling bonnet, and the brightly embroidered shawl that one of the village women had loaned to her. Some of his haughtiness seemed to melt away. “We are honored by your presence.”

Before she could thank him for the sentiment, she was interrupted by Lily Raiford’s exuberant voice. “You’re here at last! Burton, we must go to special lengths to make Miss Fielding feel at home.” Dressed in a lemon-colored gown made of cashmere, with sleeves of a silk so thin it was referred to by dressmakers as peau de papillon, or “butterfly skin,” Lily was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble—” Sara protested, but the words were lost in the flood of Lily’s busy chatter.

“You haven’t arrived a moment too soon, my dear.” Lily kissed her on both cheeks in the continental fashion. “Everyone is lounging inside making cynical observations and thinking themselves quite witty. You’ll be a breath of fresh air. Burton, see that Miss Fielding’s bags are brought to her room while I take her around.”

“I should put myself to rights,” Sara said, knowing her clothes were travel-rumpled and her hair disheveled, but Lily was already dragging her into the entrance hall. Burton gave Sara a surreptitious wink and turned to welcome another arriving carriage.

“We’re all quite informal today,” Lily said. “New guests will appear every hour. There are no activities planned until the dance tonight. Entertain yourself in any manner you choose. The horses and carriages, the books in the library, the music room, and anything else you fancy are all at your disposal. Ring for whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Sara gazed in admiration at the domed white marble entrance hall. A grand staircase with the most elaborate gilded balustrade she had ever seen split into two majestic curving arches that led to the mansion’s upper floors.

Lily whisked her through the great hall, a cavernous room with a barrel-vaulted ceiling, ornate plasterwork, and the solemn atmosphere of a cathedral. “The men will go on a shooting excursion in the morning and play billiards in the afternoon. The women sip tea, gossip, and nap. We all gather to play charades and cards every evening. It’s positively stultifying. You’ll be bored to tears, I assure you.”

“No, not at all.” Sara strove to match Lily’s brisk pace as they progressed through a long gallery in the back of the mansion, lined with mirrors and paintings on one side and French doors on the other. Through the glass-paned doors she could see the borders of a large formal garden.

As Lily led Sara past rooms designed for small gatherings, groups of men and women glanced at them curiously. The music room was filled with a duster of giggling, chattering girls. Lily waved to them cheerfully without breaking pace. “Some of the county families will be presenting their daughters at the ball for their first Season,” she told Sara. “It will be less of a trial for them here than in some stuffy London drawing room. I’ll show you the ballroom presently, but first…”

They paused at the doorway of the billiards room, an exclusively masculine alcove adorned with burgundy damask, leather, and dark wood panelling. Gentlemen of assorted ages lounged around the carved mahogany billiards table. Smoke from their cigars circled the shaded lamps overhead.

“Gentlemen,” Lily informed the room at large, “I came to tell you I must abandon the game to show my new guest ’round the house. Lansdale, perhaps you would take my place at the table?”

“He will, but not half so attractively,” someone remarked. There were assorted chuckles around the room.

Lansdale, a middle-aged man of unusually short stature but possessing a handsome aquiline face, regarded Sara with bold interest. “Perhaps, Lady Raiford, you would keep to the billiards game and allow me to show your guest around.”

Sara blushed at the suggestion, while several of the men laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Lily addressed a remark to Sara. “Watch out for that one, my lamb. In fact, don’t trust a single one of these men. I know them all, and I can vouch for the fact that underneath those attractive exteriors is a pack of wolves.”

Sara could see how Lily’s remark pleased the men, who clearly liked to think of themselves as predators, paunches and receding hairlines notwithstanding. “At least allow us a brief introduction,” Lansdale suggested, coming forward. “Your Miss Fielding is quite the loveliest creature I’ve seen all day.” Taking Sara’s hand, he bowed and imprinted a deferential kiss on the back.

Lily obliged readily. “My lords Lansdale, Over-stone, Aveland, Stokehurst, Bolton, and Ancaster, I should like to present Miss Sara Fielding—a talented author and a charming new acquaintance of mine.”

Sara mustered a shy smile and a curtsey as they bowed to her individually. She remembered having secretly observed some of them at the gambling club. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she had met the duke of Ancaster during her masquerade as Mathilda. In spite of his noble heritage and dignified bearing, he had behaved quite badly at the assembly, fawning drunkenly over her and then chasing after one of the house wenches. Her lips twitched at the corners, but her amusement was wiped away by Lily’s next casual words. “Oh, and that surly-looking one pouring a brandy is my beloved husband, Lord Raiford. Next to him is Mr. Craven, who as you can see has a fondness for lurking in dark corners.”