A stable lad came running as he stepped to the ground. Leaving the curricle and pair to his tiger’s care, he helped Leonora down, then led her up the steps.
Clitheroe, his great-uncle’s butler, now his, opened the doors before they reached them, beaming in his usual genial way. “Welcome home, my lord.” Clitheroe included Leonora in his smile.
“Clitheroe, this is Miss Carling. We’ll be here for luncheon, then I’ll tend to business before we return to town.”
“Indeed, my lord. Shall I inform the ladies?”
Shrugging out of his greatcoat, Tristan suppressed a grimace. “No. I’ll take Miss Carling to meet them. I assume they’re in the morning room?”
“Yes, my lord.”
He lifted Leonora’s pelisse from her shoulders and gave it to Clitheroe. Placing her hand on his sleeve, with his other hand he gestured down the hall. “I believe I mentioned that I had various females—family and connections—resident here?”
She glanced at him. “You did. Are they cousins like the others?”
“Some, but the two most notable are my great-aunts Hermione and Hortense. At this time of day, the group are invariably to be found in the morning room.” He m
et her eyes. “Gossiping.”
He paused and threw open a door. As if to prove his point, the flurry of feminine chatter within immediately ceased.
As he conducted her into the long room filled with light courtesy of a succession of windows along one wall, all looking out over a pastoral scene of gentle lawns leading down to a distant lake, Leonora found herself subjected to wide-eyed, unblinking stares. His ladies—she counted eight—were positively agog.
They were not, however, disapproving.
That was instantly apparent as Trentham, with his usual polished grace, introduced her to his eldest great-aunt, Lady Hermione Wemyss. Lady Hermione beamed and bade her a sincere welcome; Leonora curtsied and responded.
And so it went around the circle of lined faces, all exhibiting various degrees of joy. Just as the six old ladies in his London house had been sincerely thrilled to meet her, so, too, were these women. Her first thought, that perhaps, for whatever reason, they did not venture into society and so were starved for visitors, and therefore would have been delighted with whoever had come to call, died a quick death; as she sank onto the chair Trentham placed for her, Lady Hortense launched into an account of their latest round of visits and the excitement surrounding the local church fete.
“Always something happening around here, you know,” Hortense confided. “Not dull at all.”
The others nodded and eagerly chimed in, telling her of the local sights and the amenities of the estate and village before inviting her to tell them something of herself.
Completely assured in such company, she responded easily, telling them of Humphrey and Jeremy and their endeavors, and Cedric’s gardens—all the sorts of things older ladies liked to know.
Trentham had remained standing by her chair, one hand on its back; now he stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ll rejoin you for luncheon.”
They all beamed and nodded; Leonora glanced up and met his gaze. He inclined his head, then his attention was claimed by Lady Hermione; he bent to listen to her. Leonora couldn’t hear what was said. With a nod, Trentham straightened, then walked from the room; she watched his elegant back disappear through the door.
“My dear Miss Carling, do tell us—”
Leonora turned back to Hortense.
She might have felt deserted, but that proved impossible in the present company. The old ladies quite plainly set themselves to entertain her; she couldn’t help but respond. Indeed, she found herself intrigued by the myriad snippets they let fall of Trentham and his predecessor, his great-uncle Mortimer. She put together enough to understand the route by which Trentham had inherited, heard from Hermione of her brother’s sour disposition and disaffection with Trentham’s side of the family.
“Always insisted they were wastrels.” Hermione snorted. “Nonsense, of course. He was just jealous they could jaunter all over while he had to stay at home and mind the family acres.”
Hortense nodded sagely. “And Tristan’s behavior these past months has proved how wrong Mortimer was.” She caught Leonora’s eye. “Very sound man, Tristan. Not one to shirk his duties, whatever they might be.”
This pronouncement was greeted with wise nods all around. Leonora suspected it had some significance beyond the obvious, but before she could think of any way to inquire tactfully, a colorful description of the vicar and the rectory household distracted her.
Some part of her liked, even reveled in the simple gossip of country life. When the butler arrived to announce that luncheon awaited them, she rose with an inward start, realizing how much she’d enjoyed the unexpected interlude.
Although the ladies had been pleasant and gentle companions, it was the subject matter that had held her, the talk of Trentham and the general round of country events.
She had, she realized, missed it.
Trentham was waiting in the dining room; he pulled out a chair and seated her by his side.