A Lady Never Tells(74)

“That’s true enough.” Camellia nodded. “I wouldn’t have told them either.”

“Besides, whether it’s Cosmo or someone else, all any of us can do is keep an eye on Rose and make sure that nothing happens to her.” Mary looked at Rose. “Unless you would rather I tell Sir Royce?”

Rose shook her head and offered a wan smile. “No. I’d just as soon no one here even heard of the man. You’re right. I just need to be careful.”

“We’ll all be careful.”

It was late afternoon when their carriage pulled into a long driveway, cool and green with overarching trees lining the way to a regal block of a house. Made of red sandstone, it glowed in the mellow light of the sinking sun. Sets of mullioned windows glittered across the front, and both ends were anchored by sturdy square chimneys, with another pair rising from the center. Somehow both stately and warm, the house had a welcoming air about it, and Mary felt at once that they would indeed be safe here.

“What a wonderful house!” she exclaimed as she swung out of the carriage, taking Royce’s proffered hand to step down.

He smiled, and his hand tightened briefly around hers. “Thank you. I think so. Welcome, ladies, to Iverley Hall.”

A butler emerged, his smile letting Mary know at once that this man was a far cry from the earl’s Hooper. He was followed by a middle-aged woman, smoothing down her apron and beaming. After the inescapable greetings, introductions, and instructions, the middle-aged woman, who turned out to be Mrs. Appleby, the housekeeper, led the sisters to their rooms herself, apologizing all the way because only a few of the rooms were ready for visitors.

“We wasn’t expecting the master for three or four weeks yet,” she confided in Mary. “Usually, Master Royce is good about letting us know when he’s coming and whether he’s bringing guests—” The housekeeper stopped, looked horrified. “Not that I’m complaining, you understand, miss. I’m sure he would have sent word if there’d been time.”#p#分页标题#e#

“No doubt he would.” Mary smiled at the woman. “It was a sudden decision. I am sure he has full confidence in your housekeeping.” She cast a glance around. “It is clear that the house looks lovely, even in Sir Royce’s absence.”

The older woman pinkened in gratification. “Thank you, miss, it’s good of you to notice. We do our best, we do. It’s always grand when Master Royce comes home.”

“I noticed how pleased everyone was to see him.”

“Oh, yes, he’s a good man. He was raised proper, you see. When Lady Barbara married again after Sir Alan died and took the little master off to Willowmere with her, we were afraid that we wouldn’t see him again. That he’d be grown before he came back. We weren’t even sure we wouldn’t all be turned out and the house shut. But the old earl said no—it was him that ran everything, even about the boy. And he said that Master Royce must know his property and the people here. He kept the staff, and he’d come here three or four times a year. He always brought Master Royce with him. Wanted us all to know him and the other way around.” She smiled and sighed, shaking her head fondly. “That boy loved coming here—mind, I think ’twas more he liked that it was just him and the old earl when they visited. Master Royce was that fond of the man. Well, he could hardly remember his own father, and his grandfather passed on before he was born.”

She stopped in front of a room and took a breath. “Ah, here I am, talking your ear off, and you’ll be wanting to have a rest and wash-up ’fore supper, I warrant.”

“Oh, no—I mean—well, yes, of course, I would like that. But it’s been most enjoyable talking to you.” Mary smiled. This friendly, warm woman was poles apart from any of the servants at Stewkesbury House.

Mary’s bedchamber was smaller than the one at Stewkesbury House, but quite comfortable and pleasantly, if not as elegantly, furnished. Relaxed by the surroundings, Mary was able to take a short nap after she washed up from the journey. When she awoke, she put on her best dress for dinner and went to look around the house before supper. As she strolled through the hallway downstairs, looking at the portraits lining the corridor, a masculine voice sounded behind her.

“Felonious-looking lot, aren’t they?”

“Hello, Royce.” Mary turned to face him.

He, too, was dressed for dinner, though he had eschewed formal attire, as the Talbots had the last few nights. As always, the sight of him caused her heart to leap traitorously. She could not help but think of what had passed between them last night, and a blush stole up her throat. She wondered if he thought of it, too — or perhaps it was so commonplace a thing to him that it had slipped his mind.