Bound By A Scandalous Secret

He hoped his tone warned her not to ask more about that. Dell’s grief at the loss of his entire family was still raw. It was why Ross had elected to pass up a Christmas visit to his father at Kessington Hall. So he could be with his friend at such a time.

That and because he preferred his friend’s company to the politically advantageous guests his father always invited.

‘What are your plans?’ Ross asked her.

She sighed. ‘Lord Tinmore plans a house party. Several of his friends will come to stay.’ She did not seem to look forward to this. ‘Guests should arrive next week.’

‘No, they will not.’ Her sister entered the room. Genna and the gentlemen stood. ‘How do you do, sirs? It is kind of you to call.’

Dell’s voice turned raspy. ‘How—how fares Lord Tinmore?’

Lady Tinmore glanced up at him, then gazed away. ‘He is better. The fever broke, but he remains too weak to receive callers.’

‘We do understand,’ Dell said stiffly. ‘Please send our best wishes for his recovery.’

Lady Tinmore darted another glance at him. ‘I will. Thank you, sir.’

Dell seemed uncomfortable around these sisters. Not ready for even this relatively benign social call?

Genna turned to her sister. ‘What did you mean the guests will not arrive next week?’

Her sister replied, ‘Tinmore has asked that the house party be cancelled. His secretary is to write to the guests today.’

The refreshments arrived. Ross and Dell accepted glasses of wine and offers of biscuits.

Ross stepped away while Lady Tinmore poured for Dell. To his delight, Genna joined him.

He wanted a chance to speak to her. ‘Are you disappointed about the house party?’ he asked.

She laughed. ‘Not at all. I do not rub well with Lord Tinmore’s friends.’

Her sister heard her and snapped, ‘It is cancelled because Lord Tinmore needs the time to recover. He has been very sick, Genna.’

‘I know that, Lorene,’ Genna said softly.

Ross felt for her. No one liked being reprimanded in front of others.

He took a sip of his wine. ‘Tell me about this room, Lady Tinmore. It is quite unusual.’

‘It is called the Mount Olympus room,’ Lady Tinmore responded, sounding glad to change the subject. ‘Depicting the Greek gods. My husband said it was painted over one hundred years ago by the Italian muralist, Verrio. He painted a similar scene even more elaborate at Burghley House. And one at Chatsworth, as well. My husband prefers this one, though.’

Ross noticed Genna gazing at the walls and ceiling as if seeing them for the first time.

‘It is hard to imagine one even more elaborate,’ he said diplomatically. ‘Although it does remind me of rooms we saw in Rome and Florence and Venice.’

‘You’ve visited Rome and Florence and Venice?’ Genna’s eyes grew wide.

‘We did indeed,’ Ross replied. ‘On our Grand Tour. You would have appreciated the fine art there.’

‘Lord Tinmore’s grandfather and great-grandfather collected many fine pieces of Italian art. They are hung in almost every room of this house,’ Lady Tinmore said almost dutifully.

‘They are?’ Genna looked surprised.

Dell drained the contents of his wineglass and placed it on the table. ‘We must take our leave.’ He spoke to Lady Tinmore, but did not quite meet her eye. ‘I do hope Lord Tinmore continues to improve.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

Ross bowed to her. ‘It was a pleasure seeing you again, ma’am.’ He turned to Genna. ‘And you, Miss Summerfield. I hope we meet again.’

‘Yes.’ Genna smiled. ‘I would enjoy that.’

Perhaps he could convince Dell to call upon Lord Tinmore again. Or he could call upon the gentleman himself, although he had less reason to do so and no interest in meeting the man. He merely wanted to see Genna again.

And he still must devise a way to deliver her sketchbook to her as he had promised.

Before Ross could say another word, Dell strode out of the room as if in a hurry. Ross was compelled to follow, although he did so at a more appropriate pace.

He also turned back to the ladies when he reached the door. ‘Good day, ma’am. Miss Summerfield.’

When he caught up to Dell in the hall, Dell had already sent the footman for their greatcoats, hats and gloves.

‘What the devil was the rush?’ Ross asked him.

‘We were intruding.’ Dell did not meet his eye. ‘Tinmore is still ill. Sick enough for him to cancel his house party. The last thing Lady Tinmore needs are callers.’

‘She did not seem to mind,’ Ross insisted.

The footman brought their coats and assisted in putting them on. ‘Your horses are being brought from the stable.’

They waited in uncomfortable silence until the horses were outside the door.

* * *

They were on the main road from the estate before Ross spoke. ‘What is amiss, Dell?’

‘Amiss?’ he shot back. ‘I told you. We were intruding. I should not have allowed you to talk me into this visit.’

Ross spoke in a milder tone. ‘I did not see any indication that we were not welcome. Lady Tinmore seemed very gracious. I think she appreciated our concern for her husband.’

‘She was gracious,’ Dell admitted, sounding calmer. ‘She was—’ He cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we might call again. In a week or so, when we are certain of Tinmore’s recovery.’

* * *

Genna and Lorene waited at the window until they saw Rossdale and Penford ride away.

Lorene then turned to tidy up the wineglasses and plate of biscuits, putting them back on the tray, something for which her husband would chastise her if he knew of it.

Acting like a servant, he would say.