Lord of Scoundrels - Loretta Chase [76]
Chapter 12
Despite the unplanned-for pause at Stonehenge, Dain's carriage drew up at Athcourt's front entrance at precisely eight o'clock, as scheduled. By twenty past eight, he and his bride had inspected the domestic army, all turned out in trim ceremonial array, and had been discreetly inspected in turn. With a very few exceptions, none of the present staff had ever clapped eyes on their master before. Nonetheless, they were too well trained and well paid to show any emotion, including curiosity.
All was ready, exactly as Dain had ordered, and every requirement provided precisely to the minute, according to the schedule he'd sent ahead. Their baths had been readied while they reviewed the staff. Their dinner clothes were pressed and neatly laid out.
The first course was served the instant lord and lady took their seats at opposite ends of the long table in the cavernous dining room. The cold dishes arrived cold, the warm, warm. Andrews, the valet, stood near His Lordship's chair throughout the meal and assisted with all tasks requiring two hands.
Jessica did not appear in the least daunted by a dining room the size of Westminster Abbey, or the dozen liveried footmen waiting at attention near the sideboard while each course was consumed.
At a quarter to eleven she rose from the table to leave Dain to his port. As coolly as though she'd been mistress there for centuries, she informed the house steward, Rodstock, that she would have tea in the library.
The table had been cleared before she was through the door, and the decanter appeared before Dain almost in the same instant. His glass was filled with the same silent unobtrusiveness, and his host of attendants vanished in the same ghostly quiet and quick way when he said, "That will be all."
It was the first time Dain had had anything like privacy for two days, and the first chance to think properly about the problem of deflowering his bride since he'd realized it was a problem.
What he thought was that it had been a long day and his paralyzed arm was throbbing and the dining room was too quiet and he didn't like the color of the drapes and the landscape hanging over the mantle was too small for the location.
At five minutes to eleven, he pushed away his untouched wineglass, rose, and went to the library.
* * *
Jessica stood at a book stand, where the immense family Bible lay open to a page containing the customary entries of weddings, births, and deaths. When her husband entered, she threw him a reproachful look. "Today is your birthday," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He approached, and his stony expression settled into the usual mocking mask as he glanced down at the place she pointed to. "Fancy that. My estimable sire didn't black my name out. I'm all amazement."
"Am I to believe you've never once looked in this book?" she asked. "That you weren't interested in your forebears— when you knew all about Guy de Ath?"
"My tutor told me about my ancestors," he said. "He tried to enliven the history curriculum with regular strolls through the portrait galley. 'The first Earl of Blackmoor,' he would solemnly announce as he paused before a portrait of a chevalier with long golden curls. 'Created during the reign of King Charles II,' I would be informed. Then my tutor would expound upon the events of that reign and explain how my noble ancestor fit in and what he'd done to win his earldom."
His tutor had told him, not his father.
"I should like to be tutored in the same way," she said. "Perhaps tomorrow you will take me for a stroll through the portrait gallery. I collect it must be about ten or twelve miles long."
"One hundred eighty feet," he said, his eye returning to the page. "You seem to have an exaggerated view of the size of Athcourt."
"I'll