Her eyes were riveted on Lord Howard. A peculiar little smile lifted her lips. The future suddenly looked wildly interesting, with this untamed and exotic animal running loose in town. After a moment, she turned to him. “Pardon me, did you say something, Monteith?”
“Nothing of any account,” he replied. His disgruntled expression told her he was peeved, but she was too interested in watching Lady Monteith’s shameless about-face to bother with Monteith at that moment.
Chapter 4
It never for a moment occurred to Lord Howard that his family didn’t know to what famous heights he had risen. In India everyone knew Burra Sahib Lord Howard. Rather than vex him, Lady Monteith’s brusque manner told him she was the same proud woman she had always been. He respected her for it, and when her manner warmed so noticeably at the tail end of dinner, he assumed she had been bowled over by his stimulating presence. After a few glasses of champagne and a million playful questions about India, the ladies retired to the saloon to leave the gentlemen to their port.
It was, unfortunately, impossible for Lady Monteith to give full rein to her joy with Clifford Sutton’s sisters in the room. She confined herself to lesser exclamations of delight and amazement.
“Can you believe it?” she asked. “A million pounds, and he as close to an ape as makes no difference.”
Mrs. Tucker, the younger Sutton lady, said, “There is a prime parti for some lucky young lady! He likes them young, Irene. Why, I do believe he was casting lures in Miss Bright’s direction.”
Mrs. Jenkins, the elder Sutton lady, was made of more clever stuff. “We must take him to call on Cousin Alvinia Morrison,” she mentioned.
Lady Monteith quickly assessed the situation and came to her own conclusions. Lord Howard was not a day less than fifty-five. He was only a year younger than her own late husband. A man of that age, especially one who had been subjected to years of the pestilence and fevers of India, was no fit husband for anyone. He must remain single, and he must remain at Lambrook Hall, where she could keep an eye on his million pounds. What a boon for the younger boys, Teddie and Bert. Monty must discover where they were visiting and order them home at once.
“Whomever he marries,” Mrs. Bright said, “I hope she doesn’t survive him, for I don’t doubt he’ll put in his will she must perish on his funeral pyre.”
“Such a whimsical sense of humor as he has.” Lady Monteith smiled. Already it had darted into her head that but for Howard’s dread of widows, she might make a pitch for him herself.
Mrs. Russel listened and added her mite. “We should get our heads together and find him a wife, ladies, or we will have havoc in the parish. There is no denying he is a little —” She intercepted a scathing glance from her hostess and began to mumble. “So long in India. Only natural, I’m sure, but he did say ‘my son,’ Irene, and he was not married.”
“The son is dead —thank goodness. Excuse me, ladies. I must see to his apartment.”
Lady Monteith went after the housekeeper. “The small yellow room tucked under the eaves is no longer sufficient for Lord Howard, Mrs. Gaines. Put him in the best guest suite.’’
“Lord Monteith already told me, before his lordship’s arrival.”
“Before his arrival! Then he knew all along and let me make a cake of myself. Wretched boy!”
“Where am I to put all his slaves?” Mrs. Gaines asked. “He brought a dozen servants home with him. All wearing bed sheets. They must do their own laundry, milady. I have only the one dolly.”
“Put them in the attic. Oh, dear! You must bring the elephant’s foot and the swords down to the saloon. Get them now, Mrs. Gaines, before he joins us.”
There was a very undignified scrambling around of servants depositing Indian lumber about the Rose Saloon, where it looked as out of place as a dog in church amidst the elegant
“Nothing of any account,” he replied. His disgruntled expression told her he was peeved, but she was too interested in watching Lady Monteith’s shameless about-face to bother with Monteith at that moment.
Chapter 4
It never for a moment occurred to Lord Howard that his family didn’t know to what famous heights he had risen. In India everyone knew Burra Sahib Lord Howard. Rather than vex him, Lady Monteith’s brusque manner told him she was the same proud woman she had always been. He respected her for it, and when her manner warmed so noticeably at the tail end of dinner, he assumed she had been bowled over by his stimulating presence. After a few glasses of champagne and a million playful questions about India, the ladies retired to the saloon to leave the gentlemen to their port.
It was, unfortunately, impossible for Lady Monteith to give full rein to her joy with Clifford Sutton’s sisters in the room. She confined herself to lesser exclamations of delight and amazement.
“Can you believe it?” she asked. “A million pounds, and he as close to an ape as makes no difference.”
Mrs. Tucker, the younger Sutton lady, said, “There is a prime parti for some lucky young lady! He likes them young, Irene. Why, I do believe he was casting lures in Miss Bright’s direction.”
Mrs. Jenkins, the elder Sutton lady, was made of more clever stuff. “We must take him to call on Cousin Alvinia Morrison,” she mentioned.
Lady Monteith quickly assessed the situation and came to her own conclusions. Lord Howard was not a day less than fifty-five. He was only a year younger than her own late husband. A man of that age, especially one who had been subjected to years of the pestilence and fevers of India, was no fit husband for anyone. He must remain single, and he must remain at Lambrook Hall, where she could keep an eye on his million pounds. What a boon for the younger boys, Teddie and Bert. Monty must discover where they were visiting and order them home at once.
“Whomever he marries,” Mrs. Bright said, “I hope she doesn’t survive him, for I don’t doubt he’ll put in his will she must perish on his funeral pyre.”
“Such a whimsical sense of humor as he has.” Lady Monteith smiled. Already it had darted into her head that but for Howard’s dread of widows, she might make a pitch for him herself.
Mrs. Russel listened and added her mite. “We should get our heads together and find him a wife, ladies, or we will have havoc in the parish. There is no denying he is a little —” She intercepted a scathing glance from her hostess and began to mumble. “So long in India. Only natural, I’m sure, but he did say ‘my son,’ Irene, and he was not married.”
“The son is dead —thank goodness. Excuse me, ladies. I must see to his apartment.”
Lady Monteith went after the housekeeper. “The small yellow room tucked under the eaves is no longer sufficient for Lord Howard, Mrs. Gaines. Put him in the best guest suite.’’
“Lord Monteith already told me, before his lordship’s arrival.”
“Before his arrival! Then he knew all along and let me make a cake of myself. Wretched boy!”
“Where am I to put all his slaves?” Mrs. Gaines asked. “He brought a dozen servants home with him. All wearing bed sheets. They must do their own laundry, milady. I have only the one dolly.”
“Put them in the attic. Oh, dear! You must bring the elephant’s foot and the swords down to the saloon. Get them now, Mrs. Gaines, before he joins us.”
There was a very undignified scrambling around of servants depositing Indian lumber about the Rose Saloon, where it looked as out of place as a dog in church amidst the elegant
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