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THE FOLLOWING WEEK the grooms piled their trunks onto the carriage, and Margaret, Juliet, Mama, Papa, Grandmother Agatha and Lily squeezed inside. The maid sat with the driver. Papa removed a ledger from his purse and placed it over his lap.
“Please tell me you’re not going to work.” Mama fluttered her arms.
“I would not want to lie to you, sweetheart,” Papa replied.
The carriage jerked to a start. Lily barked, as if to alert everyone on the carriage’s ability to move and to introduce new sights and scents with appealing regularity. Finally, she curled up at Margaret’s feet.
“Now you must be on your best behavior when you meet the duke,” Mama said. “The man is most important.”
“I’d like to determine his importance when I meet him,” Papa said.
Mama gave a weak laugh. “You know he’s important. He’s a duke.”
“One tends to wonder at a man whose most successful accomplishment happened when he was born.”
“I’m not wondering,” Mama squealed. “I’m admiring it.”
“Yes, you’ve made your opinion clear. Well done.”
Mama scrunched her lips, temporarily bewildered into silence.
Papa leaned back with a pleased expression on his face and winked.
If Papa could control Mama, he could control any boardroom. Papa opened his ledger, Juliet opened a novel, and Margaret opened her ornithology book. Papa shot Margaret an approving glance.
Margaret studied the pages.
Slowly, excitement moved through her. She was going to Dorset. The place where those fascinating fossils had been discovered. Perhaps she might find some herself.
Grandmother Agatha removed her needlework and began to sew.
Mama peeked at Grandmother’s embroidery hoop. “Is that Lily?”
Grandmother nodded. “Precisely.”
“Then we shall see her more often in the house.” Mama’s voice trembled. “How—er—marvelous.”
Margaret grinned.
Papa may have taken to Lily, but Lily was still her dog. She’d discovered her abandoned as a puppy, and Papa had agreed that she needed to live with them.
The coach made multiple stops to change horses. The publican ushered them into private dining rooms, each varying in degrees of coziness. Margaret attempted to eat, but her stomach felt weak.
Coach travel lacked pleasantness. Mama’s speeches on how Margaret might be more seductive and capture the duke did not improve the experience. Papa rolled his eyes on occasion, shooting Margaret a kind smile, but most of his focus was on his ledgers.
They attempted to sleep in public houses by night, in the coach during the day, even if the uncomfortable swaying, rigid seats and crowded compartment rendered the latter difficult. Finally, the landscape shifted, and she could hear the waves.
They were here.
On the coast.
Perhaps she might wander over the same coastline where those large creatures had once wandered. Lily paced the carriage, perhaps sensing her excitement.
Margaret scooted to the side and pulled back the velvet drape. The drape’s thickness was practical when sleep was desired, but less so when one wanted to enjoy the view. Finally, a long, wide strip of marvelous azure appeared.
The English Channel.
Margaret’s heart quickened, and she moved her gaze from the sparkling waves, their crests glinting like diamonds, to the coastline that curved beside it, adorned with tawny cliffs.
“Margaret! Margaret!” Mama’s wail interrupted Margaret’s musings, and she jerked her head.
“Look there!” Mama pointed at the other window.
The view from the other window seemed of far less interest. No waves were visible. Yet, when Margaret moved toward the window, a large manor house loomed before them.
Not that manor house was the correct word: it was a castle, in every sense. Juliet gasped, and even Mama was silent as they drove nearer. The building emanated beauty.
The red stone structure loomed over the trees and rolling hills that surrounded the building, contrasting with the azurean heavens. Large windows curved in an appealing manner. This was not the intimidating castles of the middle ages, with battlements for archers to direct arrows at any intruders.
Lily bounded up and began to howl.
“Bad dog,” Mama scolded her.
Lily ignored Mama. Sometimes, Margaret wondered whether that quality made Papa like her so much. Instead, Lily jumped up, placed her paws on the window, and stuck her tongue out in a gesture Margaret assumed was of happiness and recognition of the heat, and not due to being unimpressed by the surroundings.
Lily barked as the coach swung onto a path, flanked by magnificent evergreen trees, and she barked as the coach continued past a small lake, containing a tiny, adorable island. Lily barked as the coach moved past a rose garden, and the agreeable scent drifted inside, and she barked as the coach finally slowed.
The carriage stopped, and Margaret inhaled. She smoothed her dress hastily, even though the carriage was cramped, making the most cursory preening an impossibility. Mama had piled the carriage high with trunks so Margaret would have bountiful wardrobe options, but that had only managed to lead to additional creases in her traveling gown. Hopefully the housekeeper could whisk them to their rooms before they met the duke.
The driver and maid exited the top of the carriage, and Margaret waited for her family to exit. Lily panted happily.
The castle had appeared magnificent when viewed through the small window of a moving carriage, the view obscured on occasion by the wobbling curtains and Lily’s head.
Now she faced no such obstruction.
The castle soared over her. Birds chirped merrily, as if gleeful they’d found the very nicest place in England to be.
A row of servants stared at them, and Margaret’s heart tumbled. Nervousness thrummed unrelentingly through her, but she pasted a wobbly smile on her face. Then the door opened, and a man strolled out.
Unlike the other men who stood before her, this man wore no livery. He was attired in a simple green tailcoat and breeches, attire suited for the country, and yet the man’s appearance still caused Margaret’s heart to leap. His shoulders were broad, proportionate to his height. He towered over the servants.
“It’s the duke,” Mama squealed, elbowing Papa.
Lily let out another bark, then dashed toward the duke, dragging Papa, holding onto her lead, after her.
The duke strode forward, and his tousled brown locks glimmered underneath the sunbeams, revealing strands of honey. No doubt sunbeams enjoyed lingering about the castle—and the duke.
*
JASPER EYED THE NEW arrivals curiously. Mr. and Mrs. Carberry had that disheveled look common after long journeys, but he was most interested in the large, white spotted dog before him.
When Mrs. Carberry had accepted his invitation and told him they would be taking their dog, he’d imagined a daintier creature, with long fluffy ears, curly locks, and tiny legs. This dog varied tremendously.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Carberry said. “Lily! Come here!”
Lily pushed her snout against his buckskin breeches, and he smiled and bent down and petted her.
Lily was large with small, entirely unfluffy ears, which pointed up. Her coat was short, though her legs extended to a considerable length.
“Lily!” Mrs. Carberry called again in an exasperated tone. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jasper said lightly. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Er—yes,” Mrs. Carberry said.
“I see you found your daughter.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Carberry shifted her legs, and the gravel crunched beneath her. She gazed at him cautiously, as if she were not entirely certain he was not going to berate her and send her on her way.
Well, she would deserve that.
Miss Carberry, however, did not deserve that.
Though Jasper would not characterize himself as taking pleasure in the discomfort of others, he didn’t entirely mind that Mrs. Carberry’s face was paler than it had been a moment ago.
He glanced toward the carriage, hoping to spot her, but the groom was busy assisting the elder Mrs. Carberry to the ground, a process made more difficult by her large bonnet and evident desire not to damage it.
Lady Juliet exited the carriage, and Jasper bowed to her. He’d been vaguely aware that Lady Juliet was considered a good catch, a fact of which she seemed equally aware, and he’d been unsurprised when her betrothal had been announced.
Miss Carberry stepped hastily from the carriage, nearly toppling from it. Though her hair was disheveled, and her dress creased, the pretty pinkness of her cheeks was unmistakable. She fluttered long dark eyelashes up and the edges of her lips extended uncertainly.
Lily moved toward her, evidently excited to be rejoined with her even after a short separation, and Miss Carberry petted her.
Jasper’s heart warmed, and he dipped into a deep bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Er—yes.” Miss Carberry’s voice squeaked, and she curtsied. “Your Grace, please let me present my father, Mr. Carberry.”
“An honor,” Jasper said. “I’ve read much about you in The Times. What you’re doing for job creation in Edinburgh is a revelation.”
Mr. Carberry beamed. “I’ll be doing it in London soon.”
“Please do not bore the duke,” Mrs. Carberry admonished.
Building and maintaining a great business empire wasn’t something Jasper found tiresome. He leaned toward Mr. Carberry. “We’ll talk later.”
Mr. Carberry gave a benign smile with the air of a man whose mind was occupied thoroughly elsewhere. Jasper’s mind was making no such travels. He nodded to his newest hires, and they approached him quickly.
Finally, Jasper greeted the elder Mrs. Carberry. After they’d both ascertained they were doing well and that the castle was pretty, he led his new guests to the row of servants.
He turned to the Carberry family. “Please, let me introduce you to the other guests. They’re in the drawing room. Monsieur Parfait’s sweets are proving occupying.” He nodded to his chef.
The elder Mrs. Carberry clapped her hands. “I’m an admirer of yours, Monsieur Parfait.”
“Oh?” The chef paled, then swept gallantly into a bow. “You have made me most pleased.”
“You must share your recipes with me,” the elder Mrs. Carberry continued. “Perhaps you can teach me your tricks.”
“Ah, I can write something up for your servants before you leave.”
“Servants? Ha. You’re speaking to a great baker.” The elder Mrs. Carberry placed her hands on her waist, and it was suddenly very easy to imagine her showing her disapproval by brandishing a rolling pin.
Mrs. Carberry ran toward her mother-in-law, nearly tripping on her dress.
“It’s her hobby. That’s all! Hobby,” Mrs. Carberry practically shouted at Monsieur Parfait.
The elder Mrs. Carberry frowned. “But—”
“Baking is something people with less money do,” Mrs. Carberry reminded her, though unfortunately she did not select a sufficiently low level, for Monsieur Parfait managed to look offended.
“Monsieur Parfait is excellent,” Jasper said hastily. “He’s one of the few servants who traveled with me from my London townhouse. One doesn’t want to be too far removed from him and his culinary expertise. I suspect the servants in the castle are enjoying his presence as well.”
“Quite nice,” Mr. Carberry said.
Finally, the Carberry family followed Jasper into the castle. Miss Carberry’s faint vanilla scent wafted behind him. The scent was appealing, not reminiscent of the cloying floral scents that seemed in fashion. Perfumers seemed to delight in concocting novel formulae, taking glee in combining obscure fragrances that would never be found together in the natural world.
He shook his head. He shouldn’t be musing on Miss Carberry’s scent, no matter how alluring it was.
His burly new hires strode close at his side, and the tension in his shoulders eased.