frown slowly faded, replaced by a sad smile. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” He resumed his descent and she fell in beside him. “In fact, I’ve slept these two days myself.”
“Ah. Then you do feel better?”
By the time they reached the ground floor, their conversation had shifted to the safe topic of weather and hopes of spending time outside in the sunshine before winter closed in.
“Perhaps you can begin your riding lessons.” The major’s firm, well-formed lips quirked up on one side, and one eyebrow lifted. He was teasing her, just as Peter used to do, and her heart skipped.
In response, she shuddered comically. “And perhaps not.”
His laughter echoed throughout the hall just as they reached a door a footman held open for them. Anna surmised it was the breakfast room, for the aromas of coffee, sausages, eggs and freshly baked bread greeted her senses in the most pleasant way. Her stomach registered its request for satisfaction, and she hoped no one could hear. As she, the major and Matthews entered, the inhabitants seated at the dining table turned as one. Two gentlemen stood and offered enthusiastic greetings to the major.
“Here comes the hero.” The man at the head of the table, surely the viscount, strode toward them. As tall as the major and equally well-proportioned, he might have been a twin save for his sky-blue eyes.
“Brother.” The second man, almost a triplet except for his lighter brown hair, also approached him. “Welcome home.” Anna assumed this gentleman was the cleric Major Grenville had spoke of during their journey.
Lady Greystone, seated at the foot of the table, regarded them through her quizzing glass. “It is past time you put in an appearance, Edmond.” Her stare landed briefly on Anna, and her lips curled up with distaste before she turned back to her youngest son. “What, pray tell, did you find so humorous before you entered the room?”
* * *
Edmond ignored Mother’s question, choosing instead to plunge into the embrace of his two older brothers. “Greystone. Richard.” Much backslapping and many endearing insults ensued while the brothers reestablished the bond that had been their lifeline since they were boys. Separated by mere fourteen-month intervals, they now appeared very near the same age, or so it seemed to Edmond.
“So, Greystone, what news from Parliament? Have you saved the country from the French yet?”
The viscount waved away the question. “You first. You must tell us about the war in America.”
“Only after I congratulate Richard for his ordination.” With the hope that no one would ask him about the war again, at least not in Miss Newfield’s company, Edmond clapped a hand on his middle brother’s shoulder. “Do you have a living yet?”
Richard glanced in Mother’s direction. “Um, well—”
“Never mind,” Edmond murmured. No doubt Mother was directing Richard’s appointments as she did his own. “You can tell me later.”
“Yes, well.” Greystone gripped Edmond’s arm. “Richard, you must present our baby brother to our new sister.”
“Ah, I’d heard that you married.” Edmond followed Richard to the table, where a pretty and very expectant young lady stood, a light blush coloring her pale cheeks. “Mary, may I present my brother Edmond of His Majesty’s Royal Dragoons.”
“Mrs. Grenville.” Edmond bent over her offered hand, while she dipped an unsteady curtsey and then leaned against Richard. The tender look that passed between them sent a strange longing through Edmond, even as he rejoiced in his brother’s happiness. “What a lovely addition to our family. Welcome.”
“Thank you, Major. You must call me Mary.”
“And I am Edmond.” He glanced at Mother, who sat observing the melee with her usual imperious facade. Was she pleased at the prospect of her first grandchild? He walked around the table and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, madam.”
“Humph.” While she did not rebuff him, she also did not return his kiss. “Sit down and eat. The sooner you regain your strength, the sooner you can return to duty.”
Not if he could sell his commission and resume his study of law. “Yes, madam.” As he moved toward his assigned seat where he had eaten many a meal while growing up, he noticed Miss Newfield still standing by the door. Remembering Mother’s neglect, he started to invite the young lady to the table.
“Come, come, Newfield.” Mother whipped her hand in the air, summoning her and indicating her place adjacent to the foot of the table in one gesture. “Here beside me.”
“Yes, my lady.” Miss Newfield’s voice was strong and confident. With a grace worthy of an aristocrat, she sat in the chair pulled out by the footman. Once again Edmond experienced no shame for bringing the lady to his mother, for she had not cowered in the midst of the family chaos. Seated beside her, he offered a smile, to which she responded in kind.
When a footman brought serving dishes, Edmond saw the hesitation in the lady’s eyes. Directing the man with a tilt of his head, he demonstrated how to serve his own plate. She followed suit, smiling her appreciation of the silent lesson. During their journey he had learned of her limited experience with servants, so he must look for opportunities to inform her of how to accept their service.
“This is my new companion,” Mother said amidst the flurry of breakfast being distributed around the table. “Her name is Newfield.” She took a sip of coffee. “Now, today I should like—”
The door opened and Johnson brought in the mail on a silver tray. He paused and glanced between Mother and Greystone, then carried the tray to the viscount. Edmond guessed the senior servants were often confused when Greystone was in residence, for Mother had ruled the house since Father had died some twenty-three years ago. When Greystone reached his majority six years ago, other than his entering Parliament, nothing changed. But then, Edmond’s eldest brother had always been an agreeable fellow, taking Mother’s dominance in stride.
When Johnson delivered the tray to Greystone, Edmond experienced a hint of satisfaction. Then a hint of shame. Scripture instructed a man to honor his parents, but it was rarely an easy task with Mother.
“Ah, good news.” Greystone held up a letter. “Uncle Grenville is coming for a visit. Should arrive the first week in November.”
“What?” Mother set down her coffee cup with a clink. “How dare he invite himself—”
“Not at all.” Greystone raised a hand to stop her. “I invited him.”
“You invited him?” Mother breathed out an angry sigh. “Well, then, I suppose I have no say in the matter.”
Edmond seized a bite of bread to keep from cheering. Perhaps Greystone was at last taking his rightful place as head of the family.
Greystone did not respond, but Richard, ever the peacemaker, leaned toward Mother. “You began to tell us your plans for the day. Is there any way Mary and I may help?”
Mother answered with one of her impatient “harrumphs,” and everyone fell to eating with no further comments.
Edmond’s thoughts darted here and there with unreasoning emotion not far behind. Perhaps Uncle Grenville’s visit was an answered prayer, if one could call a man’s fervent hopes a prayer. Father’s younger brother was a London barrister, Edmond’s desired profession. He had begun his law studies at Oxford until Mother insisted upon his joining the dragoons. How little she knew about her youngest son, for he would far rather face courtroom battles than the military sort. But the prospect of gaining his uncle’s patronage sent hope bubbling up in Edmond’s chest, and he coughed to clear his throat rather than choke on a bite of sausage.
Eyebrows lifted, Miss Newfield glanced his way as if trying to discern his distress. He returned a small shrug to dismiss her concern, adding a slight grin to show his appreciation. In every way