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hallway, and thence out the door.
    When she returned to the sitting room her eyes were lit with
wrath. “You wretch, to ill-treat that poor, well-meaning man so! When you do
things like that I can tell, if there were ever a doubt, that you are John’s
brother, Kit.”
    “Tact don’t run strong in the Temperers, Livvy,” Lord
Christopher warned her easily. “But a sense of humor does. Always excepting in
Julian and Sophy, who are true Melverings—take after my father’s mother’s
family. But you shan’t mind Tylmath and Sophia, shall you? After all, you will
have the rest of us.”
    Olivia, less than entirely reassured by this thought,
regarded her brother-at-law with a disapproving eye but said nothing, and Mrs.
Martingale began to speak of traveling clothes again.

Chapter Three
    Under Lord Christopher’s aegis the travelers’ affairs,
arrangements and farewells were conducted with a certain haphazard efficiency,
and even the journey itself from Brussels to Cambridgeshire was relatively
easy. Both Lady John and her mother were indifferent sailors at best, which
circumstance combined with a rough sea to keep them in their cabin, attended
upon by the more phlegmatic Miss Melber. Lord Kit stayed above deck, admiring
the storm clouds which boiled furiously in the distance, and keeping as clear
of the cabin as possible, while Miss Bliss, herself somewhat indisposed, stayed
out from under foot below deck. Lord Christopher later admitted that once the
party had attained dry land at Dover the ladies made excellent companions. They
made no demur at the rather precipitate pace of their journey, and he in turn
made every possible effort to provide frequent stops for refreshment and rest.
Thus, Lady John, Lord Kit, and Mrs. Martingale arrived at Catenhaugh several
days earlier than expected.
    “Good God, Kit’s dragged them from Dover in two days!” the
Duchess exclaimed vexedly, peering from a forward window in her sitting room. “They
must be exhausted, and fuming at the inconsiderateness of all Temperers! Well,
Apperset, don’t stand there!” she admonished the footman at her elbow. “See
they are fetched into the sunroom and given tea. I shall join them straightway.
Fan, dear,” she summoned Miss Weedwright, who stood eagerly at her left hand. “Help
me up; I must get rid of this corset: it maintains a stylish sort of figure, I
admit, but I vow I cannot move in the wretched thing.”
    With some assistance from her companion the Duchess made her
way down to the sunroom, a cheerful little chamber on the first floor that
faced one of the autumn gardens. Seated there she found her daughter-at-law and
an older woman. Even dressed in mourning the girl was, Judith Tylmath was
elated to see, just as Kit had described her: a first-rater, not in the common
style but very lovely. The Duchess’s spirits began to climb.
    “My dearest child, you cannot possibly be my poor John’s
wife? You look hardly out of the schoolroom!” Advancing into the room with both
arms extended, she drew Olivia to her and embraced her warmly.
    “Your Grace, I am so pleased to meet you at last,” Olivia
answered with returned warmth, upon her release. “May I make my mother known to
you? Mrs. Martingale, your Grace.” The older women exchanged bows and smiles. “And,
before anything, we must both thank you for sending Lord Christopher for us;
that was an act of thoughtfulness which meant the difference between a
comfortable journey and a nightmare of awkwardness.”
    “He dragged you across the country, I suspect, but it is
kind in you to spare a mother’s feelings, child. Please, now. Sit and drink
your tea; I am persuaded you must be much in need of it.”
    “Tea is very welcome,” Mrs. Martingale agreed. “But as for
Lord Kit, I think you do the boy an injustice. He took every care for our
comfort, your Grace, although I admit that he does travel at a great pace!”
    For some minutes the three women exchanged those
commonplaces