Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [19]
She still had not decided what “you had best” meant. It could be interpreted as a busy man encouraging her to be present so her interests could have a voice in his deliberations. Read differently, however, the line sounded like a threat.
She did not expect it to be a pleasant meeting in either case. Since it was Tuesday he should be sober, so she doubted he would misbehave. However, the last time she had seen him they had been parting a scant fifteen minutes after she rejected his advances. Uncomfortable did not begin to describe that final quarter hour together. Nor, despite her clear preferences, had he truly stood down.
She saw him in her mind as he finally took his leave of her. Displeased. Annoyed. Watching her the way a hawk might a field mouse.
I may have to devote the next year to seeing you in high color again, Mrs. Joyes.
He left the property at dawn the next morning, before the household rose. She had listened to his horse on the lane and closed her eyes with a deep sigh of relief. Facing him might have been the smarter move, however, if he had allowed it. They possibly would have laughed about what happened in the greenhouse. He might even have apologized.
Instead, she had worried about his mood for the next three days. She had grown frantic when no word came on Wednesday about Tuesday’s deliberations. Then this odd letter arrived Friday afternoon.
The carriage stopped. Daphne pushed open the blinds, angled her head, and looked out. The breadth and height of Castleford’s house would impress anyone. There was nothing reserved, modest, or discreet about the structure. It possessed more exuberant decoration than had ever been fashionable in England and more windows than most manor houses. Its design spoke unapologetically of wealth, privilege, and lack of restraint.
Of course it did.
A host of servants in blue, braided, old-fashioned livery waited to serve her. Hose and pumps marched forward. White gloves handed her and Katherine down. Two periwigs beneath tricornered hats escorted them to the door. An impressive butler, decorated in gold buttons and embroidery, took her card, placed it on a silver tray held by a duller version of himself, then immediately led the way up the curving ceremonial staircase beyond the reception hall.
Katherine paced alongside, wide-eyed, too overwhelmed to be afraid anymore. Daphne tried not to be equally awed by the luxurious appointments layering her view in every direction.
“Have you ever seen anything so fine?” Katherine whispered. “Do Audrianna and Verity live like this?”
“Both of their homes might be as large, but the effect is not so ancien régime in its ostentation.” Of course, neither friend now lived in a duke’s home, either. Not that all dukes dwelled in such excess. Becksbridge had not, but then there were stories that some of his ancestors were secretly Puritans.
“There are some scandalous doings in those paintings up there.” Katherine pointed to the ceiling high above, where gods and goddesses frolicked in bucolic landscapes, their nude poses full of amorous insinuations.
“Such things are not considered scandalous if the Roman gods do them.”
“What are they considered instead?”
“Allegorical. I have always thought that was just an excuse for men to look at naughty images, however.”
They entered the public rooms and passed through two huge drawing rooms. Finally their escort brought them to a chamber of relative simplicity at the end of the house, one paneled in medium tones of woods. Windows lined three of its walls, giving prospects of the river and Hyde Park. A pleasant cross breeze stirred the drapes.
The butler explained the duke would join them soon. Two servants arrived with trays of tiny cakes and tea. After some fussing and serving, she and Katherine were left alone.
Daphne sat on a settee and nibbled on a little cake that tasted of lemon. Her stomach had been tightening with every moment since they passed the park, and she could barely swallow