Just Like Heaven (Smythe-Smith Quartet #1)(10)

“He lives nearby,” Honoria said, waving her hand in the direction of nothing in particular. She had a terrible sense of direction; she couldn’t have said which way was north if her life depended on it. And anyway, she had no idea which way one had to travel out of Cambridge to get to Fensmore in the first place.

“His estate adjoins ours,” Cecily said.

“It does?” This, from Sarah. With great interest.

“Or perhaps I should say it surrounds us,” Cecily said with a little laugh. “The man owns half of northern Cambridgeshire. I do believe his property touches Bricstan on the north, south, and west.”

“And on the east?” Iris wondered. To Honoria she added, “It’s the logical next question.”

Cecily blinked, considering this. “That would probably send you onto his land, as well. You can make your way out through a little section to the southeast. But then you would end up at the vicarage, so really, what would be the point?”

“Is it far?” Sarah asked.

“Bricstan?”

“No,” Sarah retorted, with no small measure of impatience. “Fensmore.”

“Oh. No, not really. We’re twenty miles away, so he would be only a little farther.” Cecily paused for a moment, thinking. “He might keep a town home here as well. I’m not sure.”

The Royles were firm East Anglians, keeping a town home in Cambridge and a country home just a bit to the north. When they went to London, they rented.

“We should go,” Sarah said suddenly. “This weekend.”

“Go?” Iris asked. “Where?”

“To the country?” Cecily replied.

“Yes,” Sarah said, her voice rising with excitement. “It would extend our visit by only a few days, so surely our families could make no objection.” She turned slightly, sending her words directly toward Cecily. “Your mother can host a small house party. We can invite some of the university students. Surely they will be grateful for a respite from school life.”

“I’ve heard the food there is very bad,” Iris said.

“It’s an interesting idea,” Cecily mused.

“It’s a spectacular idea,” Sarah said firmly. “Go ask your mother. Now, before Lord Chatteris arrives.”

Honoria gasped. “Surely you don’t mean to invite him?” It had been lovely to see him the day before, but the last thing she wanted was to spend an entire house party in his company. If he attended, she could bid any hopes of attracting the attention of a young gentleman good-bye. Marcus had a way of glowering when he disapproved of her behavior. And his glowers had a way of scaring off every human being in the vicinity.

That he might not disapprove of her behavior never once crossed her mind.

“Of course not,” Sarah replied, turning to Honoria with a most impatient expression. “Why would he attend, when he can sleep in his own bed just down the road? But he will wish to visit, won’t he? Perhaps come to supper, or for shooting.”

It was Honoria’s opinion that if Marcus was trapped for an afternoon with this gaggle of females he’d likely start shooting at them.

“It’s perfect,” Sarah insisted. “The younger gentlemen will be so much more likely to accept our invitation if they know Lord Chatteris will be there. They’ll want to make a good impression. He’s very influential, you know.”

“I thought you weren’t going to invite him,” Honoria said.

“I’m not. I mean—” Sarah motioned toward Cecily, who was, after all, the daughter of the one who would be doing the inviting. “We’re not. But we can put it about that he is likely to call.”

“He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure,” Honoria said dryly, not that anyone was listening.

“Who shall we invite?” Sarah asked, ignoring Honoria’s statement entirely. “It should be four gentlemen.”

“Our numbers will be uneven when Lord Chatteris is about,” Cecily pointed out.

“The better for us,” Sarah said firmly. “And we can’t very well invite only three and then have too many ladies when he is not here.”

Honoria sighed. Her cousin was the definition of tenacious. There was no arguing with Sarah when she had her heart set on something.

“I had better talk to my mother,” Cecily said, standing up. “We’ll need to get to work immediately.” She left the room in a dramatic swish of pink muslin.

Honoria looked over at Iris, who surely recognized the madness that was about to ensue. But Iris just shrugged her shoulders and said, “It’s a good idea, actually.”

“It’s why we came to Cambridge,” Sarah reminded them. “To meet gentlemen.”

It was true. Mrs. Royle liked to talk about exposing young ladies to culture and education, but they all knew the truth: They had come to Cambridge for reasons that were purely social. When Mrs. Royle had broached the idea to Honoria’s mother, she’d lamented that so many young gentlemen were still at Oxford or Cambridge at the beginning of the season and thus not in London where they should be, courting young ladies. Mrs. Royle had a supper planned for the next evening, but a house party away from town would be even more effective.

Nothing like trapping the gentlemen where they couldn’t get away.