Barnes drove Grace in the Kensington carriage to the front door of New Hill Cottage.

Cottage was probably not the best term for the structure, as it could easily host a sizeable house party for society, should the Kensingtons wish to do so. The structure had two floors and appeared quite spacious, with a thatched roof, a delicious cream color with chocolate brown accents, multiple chimneys, and an exquisite combination of first stone against wood, and then against stone again.

Grace instantly fell in love with the thatched windows peeking out over flower gardens that were wild and unorganized enough to border on being unkempt. Daisies, thistle, and poppies fought with each other for control of the landscape, alongside dots of stones, fountains and a delicately carved bird feeder.

A footman bustled down the stairs to hand her out of the carriage. After she had safely descended, the butler who had followed the footman bowed deeply to her. “Good afternoon, Lady Grace. I trust Barnes did not keep you waiting overlong. Mason is my name. Your belongings will be taken to your rooms immediately. If you’re in need of anything, I ask that you inform me of it right away, ma’am.” Mason nodded smartly to her in lieu of another bow.

The deference of these servants at New Hill Cottage left her flustered. She had expected treatment as an unwelcome, uninvited guest. True, she was the daughter of a marquess and therefore a lady, but Grace had gone a long time without many servants about—and even longer since the ones who remained showed her any deference. Perhaps, of course, her aunt and uncle demanded such conduct from all of their servants. How very odd—or at least very different from what she had become accustomed to in her father’s home.

“Thank you. I am certain everything will be quite unexceptionable.”

The butler led the way in to the cottage. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am. Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington anxiously await your arrival, my lady, but wish for all of your comforts be seen to before you join them for tea. Please allow me to introduce our housekeeper, Mrs. Finchley. She will show you the way to your chamber.” He nodded toward an older woman, dressed in a plain black gown and white apron.

Her grey hair was knotted in a neat bun behind her head, and a mobcap that matched her dress perfectly rested above her chignon. Mrs. Finchley looked upon Grace with a welcoming smile and a curtsy.

She followed the housekeeper up a flight of stairs and along a hallway, and instantly felt comfortable. Handmade quilts and embroidered pillows draped plush sofas and chairs. These adornments were obviously used on a regular basis and not simply for display, showing pulls in the lightly faded fabric and the occasional darned hole—all of which gave them character. Candles were scattered on desks and tables in positions where they could easily provide light for letter writing, needlework, or reading.

Paintings lined the walls, outlined in gilded frames. Grace stopped before one, wondering what artist had created them, but then scurried along to keep up with Mrs. Finchley before she lost sight of the housekeeper. The paintings were of landscapes and the like. She thought she might have passed some of the scenes depicted in the artwork on her journey. Perhaps the artist was someone nearby.

“I understand your father did not send a lady’s maid with you, ma’am,” Mrs. Finchley said as they made their way through the halls. “We have arranged for my niece, Tess, to fill that role for you, at least on a temporary basis.”

Grace’s jaw dropped. She never had a lady’s maid before, and had not even had a governess or a nursemaid in many years. Why, she had expected to be treated more as a servant herself than as someone to be served. If, that is, she were allowed to stay at all.

“Tess has not served in such a capacity before,” Mrs. Finchley rushed on, as though Grace’s shock were that they had already designated who would fill the role, “but she is a fast learner. If she is not adequate for your needs, you just let me know and I’ll arrange to find someone more suitable for you immediately. Will this do?” The housekeeper came to a stop before a sweetly decorated bedchamber, complete with a silver mirror and brush set laid out on the vanity. The walls were a creamy white, with rich rose and sage green accents. Hand-stitched quilts in the same vibrant colors blanketed the bed, along with more pillows than she could imagine how she would ever use.

A young woman with honey-brown hair and a shy smile stood in the corner. She minced out of the way as a footman carried in Grace’s small trunk and placed it beneath the window.

Grace took a tentative look around her new bedchamber and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, this will more than suit. Thank you.” Grace might actually be able to rest in a room like this. Any form of relaxation, these days, had become a precious commodity.

“Of course ma’am. I shall leave you and Tess to it, then.” The housekeeper started to back out of the room but stilled at the doorway. “Shall I come by when tea is ready, to show you to the parlor?”

Tea in the parlor? Her aunt and uncle wished her to enjoy tea with them. Maybe she would not be immediately turned out, after all. “That would be lovely.”

“I assume you would like to be shown the rest of the cottage as well,” the housekeeper said with a wink. “I’ll be glad to give you a tour anytime you desire. Just have Tess inform me when you need anything.”

Mrs. Finchley started to leave again, but Grace’s call stopped her. “Oh, and Mrs. Finchley? Might I ask for a bath to be drawn?”

After three days of travel, the only thing more appealing to Grace than food was a bath. A rather startling discovery, that. The inn where she had stayed the previous night had not provided her with a bath (well, to be fair, she didn’t have enough money left in her reticule to pay for a bath), and she couldn’t imagine it would be too great an imposition on the staff—at least she hoped it wouldn’t.

The housekeeper looked scandalized at Grace’s hesitation. “It has already been ordered, ma’am. The maids will bring it in shortly.”

Grace turned to Tess as Mrs. Finchley took her leave of them. The girl was shy, but efficient. She had already begun to unpack Grace’s clothes.

Tess glanced up at her with a blush coloring her cheeks. “Shall I place your clothes in the bureau, my lady?” Before waiting for an answer, the girl started to do just that.

“Yes. Thank you,” Grace replied. “Will you also set out a clean gown for after my bath? The lilac cotton would be perfect.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook away the tension. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and assisted her lady’s maid with sorting through her possessions.

The girl’s blush only deepened. “Ma’am, do you not wish for me to do this for you?”

Oh, dear. Grace had always done such tasks on her own. Having a servant assist her would require an adjustment period for both women, it seemed. “Of course, you may help me. I have never had a lady’s maid.”

Tess’s eyes widened.

“We shall learn our new roles together. Does that sound all right?”

“Yes ma’am. That sounds perfect.” Tess visibly relaxed, and the two worked together until the job was complete. By that time, a few other maids had pulled in a tub and filled it with steaming water.

Grace sank into it with a sigh. She allowed the heat to soothe the tension from her body, at least for the moment. She could always worry later. Nothing, after all, had changed.

And yet everything had changed, altogether.

“Come with me, Alex. I plan to have a look about the property while it’s still early, and I desire your company.”

Lord Rotheby looked much better after a spot of tea and a bit of rest, so Alex was not as worried as he had been upon first seeing him that afternoon. Likely the older man had come down with a chill or some other brief illness. He’d be all right. Alex was certain. Nothing could keep the man down for long.

The groom prepared a couple of Gil’s horses for their use. Sampson had earned a rest after the journey from London to Somerton, so Alex rose one of the earl’s geldings for the day. They set out at a leisurely pace, taking in the glory of nature around them.

Alex marveled at the familiar landscape around the manor house. The Hardwicke family had spent the majority of their time in their father’s principal seat, Somerton Court, while Alex and his siblings grew up. But their parents had moved the entire family to Hardwicke House in London eight years before so the siblings could participate in the marriage mart. Even with all the years Alex had spent in Town, he had always held an affinity for the country. The quiet spoke to him, soothed him, gave him something to think and dream about other than cards and balls and women.

Rotheby used to invite the erstwhile duke and his family to Roundstone Park for regular visits—he had looked at the late duke as the son he wished his had been—and it was not uncommon for the Hardwicke brothers to wrestle their way through the gardens or to leap, fully clothed, into the creek that wound through the property.

Gil seemed happy to have Alex with him again, today. His face came alive and his eyes were alert when he spoke. He took Alex through the entirety of the Roundstone property. “That oak over there? I seem to recall a day when you thought yourself man enough to jump from it into the creek just like Peter and Richard. You were a scrapper. But once you got on the branch, the height was more than you bargained for.”

“Ah yes, was that the time you climbed up after me, to rescue me from the impending and everlasting shame of not completing the jump?” Alex chuckled at the memory.

“The very one. I took you by the hand and leapt. You fell down with me, but at least your brothers left you alone after that.”

“For the day, but no more.”

“Ah, well. At least for the day.” Gil coughed again. “More importantly, you proved to yourself you could do it.”

A far more important task, in the grand scheme of life. Jumping from the tree was only one of many things Alex proved to himself he could do, with the earl’s prodding and assistance. No wonder their bond continued to this day.

They rode a little further in silence. Up ahead, a fence with two mangled posts loomed. “Goodness, why have you never fixed those, Gil? They were ruined years ago.”

The older man strained his eyes in the direction Alex was pointing. “Oh yes. Well. They are still in the same shape as your mother left them. I haven’t touched them so she’ll remember every time she sees them.”

Alex choked on his surprise. “My mother?” How could Mama be involved in something like that?

“Don’t forget, you’re the one who earlier pointed out her scheming. Don’t you recall how those fence posts were undone? Surely you do.”

He searched his memory, but nothing came to mind.

“You and your brothers wanted to race through the fields, chasing my dogs. Your sister, Sophia, thought she ought to be included. But she was a girl, and you boys felt she was too young and too female. So you left without her.”

“I apologize, but I’m having difficulty making any connection to Mama with all of this.”

“Slow down a minute. I’ll get there. You are so impatient.” Rotheby huffed out a sigh. “Some things never change.”

Alex chuckled and bit his lip so he wouldn’t rush the old man again.

“So Sophie ran to your mother and cried that you boys were leaving her out. She wanted to play with the older children, not be stuck at home with the baby—yet another boy, of course. Poor Sophie never stood a chance against you scoundrels-in-training, all cock-sure that girls had no place playing with boys. But I digress. Your mother thought she was right, Sophie should be allowed to chase after the three of you. The woman found a spade out in the garden shed—my garden shed, and my spade—and gave it to Sophia. Your sister went out and dug under those two posts to loosen them. Once she had them free, she pulled them to the side so she could climb through them and chase you.”

“Mama did not. She would never encourage any of us to destroy your property.” At least, he could not imagine it if she had.

“Is that so?” Gil frowned over at him. “Sophie ran after you boys, and your mother tried to fix my fence. All she managed to do was break loose more of the wood, though. When your father and I came upon her, she had Neil strapped to her back in some sort of sling she had created, my spade in her hand, and dirt everywhere—most especially all over her and that poor infant. I can promise you, it was a sight I shall never forget.”

Alex laughed. “I doubt I’ll ever forget it either, now that you have painted it so clearly in my mind. Mama is trouble, there’s no doubt about that.”

“No, no doubt at all. She’s quite the minx, irrespective of her age.”

Gil took time during their ride to point out various features of the estate and discuss their care. He told Alex which of his gardeners cared for which aspects of the park, how often he visited his tenants, the best time of year to travel into Bath to order supplies, and which merchants were honorable to deal with and which were just out to rake one over the coals.

Alex’s suspicions about the earl’s health were roused again by these details about the running of Roundstone. Why was he telling Alex? Why hadn’t he summoned Quinton, his grandson and heir, to inform of such matters? But perhaps now wasn’t the best time to press his friend on these matters. For now, he just wanted to enjoy their time together.

Near the end of their evening ride, Gil’s eyes were bloodshot and droopy, and he slumped forward in his saddle instead of riding proud and erect as he had been previously.

“Should we head in for the evening?” Alex asked. “We can resume our jaunt through your grounds in the morning.” The cold plaguing his friend must be getting the better of him tonight.

“What? Are you accusing me of being old? Rascal. You’ve always been a rascal.” The glint in the earl’s eyes showed some signs of revival, the weariness still won out. “Yes, fine. We’ll call it a night.”

Such a concession mustn’t be easy for Gil. The earl had always been able to keep up with every man in any situation. He held it as a point of pride. Blast, he might be in worse condition than Alex had initially feared.

But Alex tried to force the fears aside. It could solve nothing. Nevertheless, it grasped him like a spider holding its prey.

They turned toward Roundstone Park with the last dregs of sunlight warming their backs. “What do you have planned for the rest of our visit?” Alex asked. “I’ll be here with you for at least a few weeks. Would you like to go for a hunt?”

Maybe he could discover a bit more about the purpose of the Rotheby’s request, even if he had to sort out the clues himself. The longer he was with Gil, the longer he was away from Priscilla and Harry—and unable to do anything for them but hope Derek looked in on them as often as possible.

“Oh, just a bit of this and that. I have some friends who live in Somerton, over at New Hill Cottage. The Kensingtons. I invited them over for tea tomorrow. I always enjoy spending time with them, but I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure spending time with a bunch of older folks will quickly bore you.”

“Oh no. I could only be, er, enlightened by—”

“Do not lie to me. I know you.” The earl’s eyes narrowed, as though he could see through Alex’s head and into his very thoughts, but he chuckled. “I’m certain there will be some entertainments around town to keep you busy. We’ll ask the Kensingtons tomorrow. They keep up with those things better than I do these days.”

Alex wanted to say he would be better entertained by spending his time with Gil—because perhaps he would—but he heeded Rotheby’s advice and kept quiet. Lying to the man would serve no purpose, and his friend deserved better. “All right,” he conceded, “we’ll see what they have to say. I promise to try not to become too terribly bored while talking with three decrepit invalids.” He chuckled at Gil’s glare as they dismounted. “I’ll at least endeavor to hide my boredom, and not snore should I fall asleep.”

The headed back inside Roundstone Park, side-by-side. It had been a good day. But the day left the nagging question of Gil’s health working in his mind.