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Authors: Anabelle Bryant
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dark brow arched at his quick observations, nary a detail unnoticed. A looming hallstand complete with mirror aligned against the far wall. A tapestry chair, overstuffed and upholstered in a faded print shot with sage green and goldenrod, complimented the hallstand’s position. A fringed pillow with a white floral design now graced the seat.
There was no mistaking a female resided at Kenley Manor. Alexandra had hardly been present during the past few days due to shopping excursions and gown fittings, yet little traces a woman lived in the manor were now evident. Devlin donned a knowing smile at the vase of fresh pink roses gracing the entryway lowboy and summoned Reeston with a bellowing shout.
“You need me, Your Grace.”
Cocky fellow. He stated it rather than asked. “Yes, I do. I’ve noticed a few things …” His voice trailed off as his stare rested on the bouquet, two such bouquets actually, placed at opposite ends of the foyer.
“Yes, the flowers. One of the maids heard Lady Alexandra comment on their beauty as she sat in the garden yesterday afternoon. I believe the maid thought it pleasant to bring them indoors.” When Devlin didn’t comment, Reeston continued. “It is a little thing.”
“I suppose. But they are pink. Perhaps the yellow or white can come in tomorrow.” He brushed past his butler, slowing as he heard Reeston’s soft spoken enquiry.
“And did you sleep well, Your Grace?”
It was so like Reeston to enquire about his health, his sleep habits, the old man a makeshift father to him over the years. In truth, Reeston proved better. His father was nothing more than a source of disappointment.
“Oddly, I have experienced only one episode since the news of my aunt’s death. It is a welcome respite with all the activity that has besieged my home.” He grimaced and tried to don a look of annoyance, but Devlin was no fool and knew Reeston could detect his reluctant pleasure.
“She does add a bit of brightness to the manor, wouldn’t you say?” The butler cleared his voice and adjusted a flower in the vase to his right in an attempt to feign disinterest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He would be damned if he would admit how much the house had come alive with the addition of his ward and her slightly crazed puppy. “Remember yellow or white roses in the future. I won’t have people entering my home and thinking me a Mary.”
He might have stormed off with that edict, as it was definitely a suitable exit line, but the knocker sounded. Reeston received the caller and several footmen were summoned to accept the multitude of packages flooding the foyer. And there were a ridiculous number. Gowns, shoes, boots, hats, the foyer filled faster than Reeston or any other servant could manage to pile them in order.
“I would venture to say Lady Julia has been successful in aiding Lady Alexandra’s shopping expeditions.” Reeston grabbed a hat box as it teetered precariously atop a high pile of packages ready to tumble into disarray.
“Indeed.” Devlin smiled. He liked the idea of Alexandra enjoying a little extravagance. If her luggage had been any indication of her belongings, she scarcely had anything at all. Thank heavens, she’d taken to wearing simple day gowns at the insistence of Lady Julia, and vanquished those horrid black mourning frocks. It hadn’t been necessary for her to wear them in the first place, but he appreciated her devotion to Aunt Min.
“Lady Alexandra didn’t strike me as a spendthrift, Your Grace.”
He chuckled aloud. Reeston was one of a kind. Any master of the house would dismiss their servant for his bald insolence, but Devlin considered his staff as family, and Reeston was correct. Alexandra only ordered eight gowns at the modiste and that again under the duress of Julia’s insistence. It was a very good thing he’d visited the shop not an hour after the ladies departed. He had tripled Alexandra’s request, choosing the finest
There was no mistaking a female resided at Kenley Manor. Alexandra had hardly been present during the past few days due to shopping excursions and gown fittings, yet little traces a woman lived in the manor were now evident. Devlin donned a knowing smile at the vase of fresh pink roses gracing the entryway lowboy and summoned Reeston with a bellowing shout.
“You need me, Your Grace.”
Cocky fellow. He stated it rather than asked. “Yes, I do. I’ve noticed a few things …” His voice trailed off as his stare rested on the bouquet, two such bouquets actually, placed at opposite ends of the foyer.
“Yes, the flowers. One of the maids heard Lady Alexandra comment on their beauty as she sat in the garden yesterday afternoon. I believe the maid thought it pleasant to bring them indoors.” When Devlin didn’t comment, Reeston continued. “It is a little thing.”
“I suppose. But they are pink. Perhaps the yellow or white can come in tomorrow.” He brushed past his butler, slowing as he heard Reeston’s soft spoken enquiry.
“And did you sleep well, Your Grace?”
It was so like Reeston to enquire about his health, his sleep habits, the old man a makeshift father to him over the years. In truth, Reeston proved better. His father was nothing more than a source of disappointment.
“Oddly, I have experienced only one episode since the news of my aunt’s death. It is a welcome respite with all the activity that has besieged my home.” He grimaced and tried to don a look of annoyance, but Devlin was no fool and knew Reeston could detect his reluctant pleasure.
“She does add a bit of brightness to the manor, wouldn’t you say?” The butler cleared his voice and adjusted a flower in the vase to his right in an attempt to feign disinterest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He would be damned if he would admit how much the house had come alive with the addition of his ward and her slightly crazed puppy. “Remember yellow or white roses in the future. I won’t have people entering my home and thinking me a Mary.”
He might have stormed off with that edict, as it was definitely a suitable exit line, but the knocker sounded. Reeston received the caller and several footmen were summoned to accept the multitude of packages flooding the foyer. And there were a ridiculous number. Gowns, shoes, boots, hats, the foyer filled faster than Reeston or any other servant could manage to pile them in order.
“I would venture to say Lady Julia has been successful in aiding Lady Alexandra’s shopping expeditions.” Reeston grabbed a hat box as it teetered precariously atop a high pile of packages ready to tumble into disarray.
“Indeed.” Devlin smiled. He liked the idea of Alexandra enjoying a little extravagance. If her luggage had been any indication of her belongings, she scarcely had anything at all. Thank heavens, she’d taken to wearing simple day gowns at the insistence of Lady Julia, and vanquished those horrid black mourning frocks. It hadn’t been necessary for her to wear them in the first place, but he appreciated her devotion to Aunt Min.
“Lady Alexandra didn’t strike me as a spendthrift, Your Grace.”
He chuckled aloud. Reeston was one of a kind. Any master of the house would dismiss their servant for his bald insolence, but Devlin considered his staff as family, and Reeston was correct. Alexandra only ordered eight gowns at the modiste and that again under the duress of Julia’s insistence. It was a very good thing he’d visited the shop not an hour after the ladies departed. He had tripled Alexandra’s request, choosing the finest
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