Aunt Dimity Takes A Holiday Part 3

"What a coincidence," said Simon. "I, too, am married to one of Lord Elstyn's attorneys." He leaned closer and purred, "I expect they'll be extremely busy this week. Whatever shall we do with our free time?"

My mouth fell open. "You're kidding, right?"

"Sorry?" he said, looking mildly disconcerted.

I tilted my head to one side and eyed him doubtfully. "I've heard that married people are supposed to play the field during country-house weekends, but I guess I expected the invitations to be a little more subtle. Honestly, Simon, if you had a mustache, you'd be twirling it."

Amus.e.m.e.nt lit his eyes. "I was under the impression that Americans were impervious to subtlety."

"You've been misinformed." I turned to leave, but my curiosity got the better of me. "What you said before, about delivering a letter-what did you mean?"

"Someone's been playing post office." His eyes twinkled as he added, "I must say that I'm glad it's not you."

"Right. Well . . ." I backed away, too dazzled by his smile to question him further. "Better go find some shoes."

"If you need anything else," he said, "feel free to knock on my door. Anytime."

"Uh, thanks," I stammered, and as I walked to the end of the long corridor, I could feel him watching me every step of the way.

I was so distracted by the sensation that I nearly barreled into Emma as she and Derek emerged from the last door on the right. Derek was dressed in a tuxedo that had, by the looks of it, only recently come out of hibernation, but Emma was resplendent in a floor-length silver-gray gown with a matching bolero jacket and-I noted with relief-a pair of pearl-gray flats.

"You made it!" Emma exclaimed. "I thought you'd never get here."

"We were held up by traffic and I'm in desperate need of shoes," I blurted.

Emma peered down at my feet, shook her head in mock despair, and went back into the room.

"Everything all right, Lori?" asked Derek. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," I said, putting Simon's smile firmly out of my mind, "though I'm dying to know how the topiary caught fire."

Derek harrumphed. "Disaffected peasants, I should imagine."

"Seriously?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course not." Derek looked at me askance, then drew a picture in the air with his index finger. "The lower terrace is bordered by a wrought-iron bal.u.s.trade. The blacksmith was soldering a joint near the shrubbery this afternoon. He must have let a spark fly into the bushes, where it smoldered until it flared up in the evening breeze. It's a pity."

"It's a tragedy," Emma corrected as she returned to the corridor, black pumps in hand. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to cultivate large-scale topiaries? Thank heavens the unicorn and the peac.o.c.k were spared."

"Are you sure about your facts, Derek?" I asked, slipping into Emma's shoes. "Your father seems to think-"

"Father hasn't bothered to speak with the blacksmith," Derek interrupted. "Manual laborers are beneath his notice. Arrogant old fool."

"Derek . . ." Emma pleaded.

"All right." Derek held his hands up to pacify his wife. "I'll behave myself. If he will."

Emma sighed resignedly. "It's almost eight. We'd better go down."

I walked gingerly behind them, testing the fit of Emma's pumps and puzzling over Derek's words. I hadn't noticed an evening breeze when I'd stood watching the fire, but I had detected the distinctive scent of kerosene. "Derek," I began, "what about the-"

"Cousin Derek!"

I looked up and saw Simon Elstyn striding toward us, smiling his devastating smile.

"Good evening, Si." Derek's greeting was somewhat less than enthusiastic. "Lori, this is my cousin-"

"We've met," I said. "Simon told me where to find you."

"Always glad to help a damsel in distress." Simon bowed gallantly and turned to Derek. "A small reminder, Cousin-your father's an Edwardian at heart. He frowns mightily on husbands who escort their wives into dinner." He offered his arm to Emma, adding smoothly, "It's absurd, I know, but when in Rome . . ."

Emma glanced uncertainly at Derek, then took Simon's arm. "Thank you, Simon. We seem to be short one husband."

"I'm sure he and Gina will catch us up at dinner," said Simon, leading her toward the staircase.

"Gina?" I whispered, slipping my hand into the crook of Derek's arm.

"Georgina Elstyn," he replied quietly. "Simon's wife. She works for my father. She's-"

"An attorney," I murmured, and lapsed into a preoccupied silence.

It had suddenly occurred to me that Gina might be one of the intermediaries who'd met with Bill to conduct the earl's legal business at the London office of Willis & Willis. If she were, then Bill had worked with her for the past three months, without mentioning it to me. Had he known that she would be at Hailesham Park?

"I don't suppose you'd consider coming out with me for a bag of fish and chips," Derek murmured gloomily. "I tried to talk Emma into it, but-"

"Sorry, old bean, but wild horses couldn't keep me from this dinner." I grasped his arm firmly and squared my over-exposed shoulders. If Gina Elstyn was as attractive as her husband, then Derek wouldn't be the only one I'd watch closely for the next five days.

The drawing room split the difference between the entrance hall's chilly cla.s.sicism and my bedroom's opulent warmth. The architecture was cool and cla.s.sical: The off-white walls held a quartet of pilasters that rose from the floor to a white-on-white frieze encircling the room, and the barrel-vaulted ceiling was pierced with a pattern of octagonal medallions. Two unadorned Doric columns at the far end of the room separated the main section from an alcove containing a grand piano and a half-dozen s.h.i.+eld-back chairs.

The fireplace looked like a miniature Greek temple. The oil portrait over the mantelshelf was framed by a pair of diminutive Doric columns supporting a triangular pediment, and the creamy marble surround was carved with scrolls and abstract acanthus leaves.

The hearth was flanked by two lacquered commodes that faced a pair of French doors opening onto a stone-flagged terrace. A rosewood secretaire filled the s.p.a.ce between the French doors, and an inlaid drum table sat between a pair of round-backed armchairs. An Aubusson carpet and a sparkling chandelier lent warmth to the room, as did the coral damask settee sitting at a right angle to the hearth.

Lord Elstyn was chatting with a young woman on the settee when we arrived. The young woman wore her white-blond hair in a spiky crew cut, and she was dressed in an electric-blue gown that covered her from neck to toes yet left nothing whatsoever to the imagination. If my dress fit like a glove, hers looked as if it had been sprayed on.

The young woman remained seated as we entered the room, but the earl rose from the settee to greet us.

"Lori, Emma, welcome. I see you've met Simon." He beamed at Emma's escort, but his eyes merely grazed Derek's face. "Simon's my brother Kenneth's eldest son. His other son is Oliver." The earl turned toward a young man standing near the grand piano. "Oliver, stop lurking in the shadows," he called. "I wish to introduce you to Ms. Shepherd and Lady Hailesham."

Derek clenched his fists, but Emma's warning look and my grip on his arm restrained him from registering any complaint he might have had about his wife's correct name.

"There's no need for t.i.tles among family," Emma said, with remarkable aplomb. "Please call me Emma."

"As you wish," said the earl, with a courtly bow.

Oliver Elstyn was in his midthirties-about my age-and not quite as tall as his brother. His hair was dark, but it was hard to tell the color of his eyes because he scarcely lifted his gaze from the carpet as he shook Emma's hand, then turned to me.

"How do you do, Ms. Shepherd?" he said, so softly I almost didn't hear him.

"Very well, thank you," I replied. His handshake was as gentle as his voice. "But I'll do much better if you call me Lori."

I caught a flash of midnight blue as his eyes met mine, but he quickly lowered them again when the earl spoke.

"Allow me to present Lady Landover, my brother Thomas's only child." The earl beckoned to the young woman, who got to her feet and strolled over to join us. "Claudia's husband is unable to be with us this week, which is just as well. I detest an odd number at dinner."

Claudia Landover emitted a shrill laugh. "What an awful thing to say, Uncle. Married women miss their husbands dreadfully when they're away, don't we, Lori?"

"Yes," I replied, a shade dishonestly. Bill was away so often that there were times when I hardly realized he was gone. I was, however, keenly aware of the fact that neither he nor the mysterious Gina was present in the drawing room.

Claudia drew me over to sit on the settee, Derek and Oliver retreated to the alcove, and the earl and Simon took Emma to the French doors to look out.

"You're not wearing makeup!" Claudia exclaimed. She had a voice like a Klaxon. "How extraordinary!"

Her comment brought a rush of color to my face that would have rendered blusher redundant.

"I don't care for makeup," I said shortly. "I find it uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" Claudia's Elstyn-blue eyes registered incomprehension.

"It limits my range of motion," I explained. "I like to be able to rub my nose without worrying about smearing my fingers with paint."

"I'll admit it's inconvenient at times," Claudia allowed, "but I've always thought it a form of politeness to make the best of oneself when appearing in public."

I didn't think Claudia was being catty. I didn't think she was intelligent enough to be catty, and if I hadn't been feeling peevish about Bill's absence, I would have let her off the hook and changed the subject. But my bad temper got the better of me, and before I could stop myself I let her have it with both barrels.

"I've always thought it more polite to tell the truth," I said.

Claudia leaned back. "I beg your pardon?"

"Makeup's a lie," I snapped. "It's a way of saying, 'I'm younger, older, paler, rosier than I really am.'" I stared pointedly at her bleached crew cut. "The same goes for hair coloring, which I also don't use, because, as with most lies, once you start telling it, the harder it is to stop. I prefer not to start."

"Bravo, Lori." Unbeknownst to me, Simon had left Emma with the earl and crossed to stand close enough to overhear the whole ridiculous tirade. "Makeup's inconvenient for men as well. One kiss and we're marked for life." His gaze lingered on my lips. "I'm delighted to hear that you don't wear it."

"I think you're both quite mad," Claudia declared.

The drawing room door opened and Bill appeared, dressed in his flawless dinner jacket, with a slim, dark-haired woman on his arm. She was wearing a beautifully cut black gown with long sleeves and a modest decolletage. If Bill's jaw dropped when he saw me, I didn't notice. I had eyes only for his companion.

"Gina!" Claudia called. "What would you say about a woman who refuses to wear makeup?"

"I'd say she's either very beautiful"-Gina's voice was distressingly low and musical-"or very foolish."

"I know how I'd cast my vote," Simon murmured from the corner of his mouth.

After introducing Gina and me to each other, the earl announced, "The party is complete, or nearly so. Oliver, take Emma in to dinner."

Simon bent low to address me. "Would you do me the honor, madam?"

I glanced once at Bill, stood, and took Simon's arm, saying grimly, "You bet."

Derek paired up with Claudia, and the earl led the procession into the entrance hall, where he paused to gaze up the marble staircase.

The rest of us paused, too, and were rewarded with an unforgettable sight.

The Honorable Eleanor Harris had arrived.

Six.

Nell Harris had always been unforgettable. Some said her mother's early death and Derek's years of grief had shaped her character, but Dimity, who'd known Nell as a child, disagreed.

Nell would have been exactly who she is, no matter what the circ.u.mstances, she'd once told me. Nell is an old soul. She was born knowing more than you or I will ever learn.

Dimity's words came back to me as I beheld Nell on the staircase. She was breathtaking-tall and willowy and as ethereally beautiful as a fairy queen, with an aureole of golden curls to serve as her crown.

The gown she wore was from another age, ivory silk falling in tiny pleats from a high-waisted bodice embroidered with seed pearls and trimmed with the merest whisper of lace. She'd threaded a pale blue satin ribbon through her curls but wore no jewelry. She needed none. Her hair shone like liquid gold and her blue eyes would have put the finest sapphires to shame.

Nell surveyed us with the grace and self-possession of a woman who would one day rule the world. It was hard to believe she'd not yet reached her seventeenth birthday.

"Good evening," she said.

"Good evening," we chorused, a herd of serfs rendered pliant by her majesty.

Ivory satin slippers peeped from beneath her hem as she descended the staircase. "I apologize for my tardiness. Bertie was unwell."

Bertie was the chocolate-brown teddy bear who accompanied Nell everywhere. Nell's affection for her bear tempted fools to underestimate her, but they soon learned-usually the hard way-that Nell's myriad eccentricities concealed a formidable intelligence.

"Bertie was frightened by the fire," Nell continued. "Have you discovered who set it?"

"The fire wasn't set deliberately, Nell," said Derek. "The blacksmith was soldering-"

"It was an accident," Lord Elstyn interrupted. "Tell Bertie there's nothing to worry about."

"Isn't there?" Nell gazed intently at Simon, nodded to me and Bill, then moved forward to embrace her father and stepmother, murmuring, "Mama, Papa, I'm so glad you're here."

"Yes," the earl said gruffly. "We're all pleased that you've come, my boy. It's been far too long since we've dined together as a family."

Derek stared at his father, clearly at a loss for words, but Nell saved him the trouble of responding.

Her hand came to rest on the earl's arm as lightly as a tuft of down. "Shall we go in?"

The dining room could have been plastered with peanut b.u.t.ter and I wouldn't have noticed. I was too busy stealing glances at my husband.

Bill and I were seated as far away from each other as it was possible to be, on opposite ends and sides of the enormous mahogany table. Gina sat beside him. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting and laughing with the familiarity of old friends. Their chummy behavior put to rest any doubts I had about the length of their acquaintance.