“Good idea,” Harry opined. “Then she won’t be here to fuss over us.”
Matthew looked less certain; Maggs lumbered forward and held out a hand. “Here then, I’ll help. We can get you all packed, and meanwhile your sister can go and make Mrs. Althorpe’s acquaintance, and make sure she’s ready to meet you three, heh?”
Nodding, Matthew took Maggs’s hand, but he kept his gaze on Tony’s face. “So we’ll come to your house later?”
Tony hunkered down, lightly squeezed Matthew’s other hand. “I’ll send my coach around for you as soon as I get home. It’s large enough to take all of you at once, and the luggage can follow. That way, you’ll be in Upper Brook Street, in my house, all the sooner.”
“Hooray!” David and Harry turned and raced up the stairs. Grinning, reassured, Matthew dashed after them. Maggs brought up the rear.
Tony watched until they disappeared along the corridor, then he went up the stairs and along to Alicia’s room.
She was bending over a box at the foot of her bed; straightening with a sigh, she shut the lid.
Smiling, he strolled in. “Finished?”
Alicia looked at him, returned his smile, then glanced distractedly around the room. “Yes—I think that’s it for in here.”
“Good.” Halting before her, he reached for her.
Before she realized what he intended, he’d caught her, bent his head, and was kissing her… thoroughly. Her head spun pleasurably… then she remembered and struggled.
He ended the kiss; raising his head, he looked down at her. “What?”
She wriggled from his hands, firm about her waist. “The boys!” She peeked around him at the door, but there was no sign of them.
Tony met her warning look with a quizzical one, then he glanced around. “I came to take you to meet Miranda.” His gaze returned to her. “She’s waiting, so she assured me, on pins.”
“Already? Oh.” She scanned the room, but she had indeed packed everything. “But the boys aren’t yet ready and—”
“The boys assured me they had their packing under control. Maggs has elected to watch over them, and you know Jenkins will as well, and Fitchett and Adriana.” He fixed her with a direct look. “So there’s no reason you can’t come with me now. I’ll send my carriage once we reach Upper Brook Street, so they’ll all be only an hour or so behind.”
She frowned. “But—”
“And don’t forget the engagements we have tonight. You’ll need to settle in, and then we have a meeting at two o’clock in the library—Jack sent word he’s got what we wanted—I’m assuming you still wish to attend?” Innocently, he looked inquiringly at her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course.”
He inclined his head. “And then we’ve dinner at Lady Martindale’s followed by two balls, so we’ll be out again within a few hours. I think you should look over the rooms before the others arrive, just in case there’s any difficulty, anything you’d like changed.”
Lips setting, she looked into his black eyes; she’d seen that expression of immovable purpose before—knew he wouldn’t change tack, not easily… and perhaps he was right.
She grimaced. “Your cousin—she only has two daughters?”
Tony nodded; taking her elbow, he turned her to the door. “If you’re worried she’ll have the vapors over the boys’ antics, you can rest easy—Miranda was a tomboy to the depths of her soul. We spent much of our childhood together—we were both only children. If anything, she’ll be in her element with your brothers—and, incidentally, so will her daughters. If I’m any judge, they’ll give your three a run for their money.”
That distracted her, enough for him to steer her to the stairs. But—
“I must speak with Fitchett, and Cook, too, before I can leave.”
At least she was going down the stairs. He went with her, resigned yet on guard. Stoically, he stuck to her side, determinedly herding her back to the front hall. Finally there, he picked up the pelisse she’d left lying on a chair and helped her into it.
Taking her hand, he drew her out of the front door, pulled it shut, then led her down the steps to where his curricle stood waiting. One of his grooms was holding his matched bays. He helped her in, waited while she’d settled her skirts, then climbed up beside her. Nodding to the groom, he set the horses pacing. Glancing at her, he saw her watching his hands on the reins, watching the horses, still skittish, coquettish.
He realized she was nervous; he kept the horses to a slow trot. “Don’t worry—they won’t bolt.”
She glanced at him. “Oh—I just…have rarely had occasion to be behind such beasts. They’re very powerful, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but I have the reins.”
The comment took a moment to sink in, then she relaxed. She looked at him. “You haven’t driven me anywhere before.”
He shrugged. “There hasn’t until now been a need.”
But today was different; he wanted her to himself, free of her family. When she first crossed the threshold of his house, he wanted to be with her, just her and him alone, without any distractions. He wanted to have that minute to himself; he refused to waste any time wondering why.
Luckily, she accepted his comment without question; relaxing a trifle more, she looked around as he took her deeper into the heart of Mayfair.
The moment, when it came, was as simple and as private as he’d wished; only Hungerford was there, holding the door as, his hand at her elbow, Tony guided her into his front hall.
She glanced at Hungerford, nodded, and smiled, then looked up, ahead, and around, and paused, stopped.
Hungerford closed the door, but hung back in the shadows. There was no footman hovering in the hall, no one else to intrude.
Pivoting, she looked around; Tony wondered how she would see it, how she would react to his home.
After a moment, she met his gaze. She sensed his waiting, and smiled. “It’s much less intimidating than I’d imagined.” Her smile deepened, softened; she glanced around again. “More comfortable. I can see people here—children…it’s a welcoming house.”
Her relief was transparent. It warmed him, eased a small knot of trepidation he hadn’t until then acknowledged he carried. Joining her, he took her hand. “This is Hungerford. He’s the ultimate authority here.”
Hungerford approached and bowed low. “At your service, ma’am. Should you need anything—anything at all—we are at your disposal.”
“Thank you.”
Hungerford stepped back.
Tony gestured to the drawing-room door. “I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Swithins, the housekeeper, later—she can show you the rooms they’ve prepared. But first, come and meet Miranda.”
Buoyed by her impression of the hall, Alicia went forward eagerly. Entering the drawing room, she glanced around—and was again struck by the house’s warmth. Without consciously considering it, she’d been expecting a house like him, coolly, austerely elegant, but that wasn’t the pervading atmosphere here. The furniture was not new, far from it; every piece looked antique, lovingly polished, the tapestry and brocade upholstery and hangings carrying the rich, jeweled tones of a bygone age.
An age that had valued comfort and convenience as well as luxury, that had expected pleasure and enjoyment to be part of daily life. Hedonistic, but rich, warm, and very much alive.
Like the bright-eyed lady rising from a chair by the hearth. She came forward, smiling widely, hands extended.
“My dear Mrs. Carrington—Alicia—I may call you Alicia, may I not? I’m Miranda, as Tony’s doubtless told you. Welcome to Torrington House—may your stay be long and happy.”
Miranda’s smile was winning; effervescent laughter lurked in her blue eyes. Alicia gave her her hands, smiled back. “Thank you. I hope you won’t be too inconvenienced by our descent.”