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cared for Percy and how aggrieved he would feel without the drooling beast at his side, she was excessively grateful for what amounted to a sacrifice of some import on Edmund's part.
More than a week before Lady Cordelia and Kate departed Rose Hall, Lord Stamford had traveled ahead to London. He bid them a fare-thee-well, explaining that before Parliament was seated he meant to oversee the preparations for their arrival at his town house.
Stamford House was an imposing structure located on the fashionable Strand. Edmund's London home boasted mullioned windows, wainscot paneling, waxed and polished oak floors.
Sculpted friezes depicting the tales of mythical Greek gods adorned each chamber. The furnishings were sparse but innovative, including daybeds carved with the Stamford arms. Ornamental wall coverings of maps and richly embroidered tapestries reflected the wealth and interests of the Stamford men who had made this house their home.
Owing to the lack of floor rushes, strewing herbs of hyssop and meadowsweet filled a multitude of baskets placed in every chamber. While Aunt Cordelia was in residence, Edmund was determined to overpower any malodorous city scents that might waft through open windows. He did not desire the blame for any new malady his aunt contracted.
Edmund waited for Kate and Aunt Cordelia in the private dining parlor. He'd quickly taken up the latest departure of dining separately from the servants, and was quite pleased with the smaller chamber.
He rubbed the back of his neck, although nothing ached or itched. 'Twas his nerves unraveling. Edmund had never attempted matchmaking, known by all to be women's work. He excelled in sport, as a man should. Yet, he defied custom for Kate.
If his efforts succeeded, Kate would be none the wiser and happily settled with an adoring husband before summer's end.
"Edmund!"
His sister's voice reminded him that he did not wait alone. Jane and her husband, Alexander Bowers, the Viscount of Chumley, had arrived, as well as the guest of honor, Richard Digby, the noted family limner. After greeting them, he'd left the threesome in conversation while he watched the door for Aunt Cordelia and Kate.
Jane sidled up to him. " Tis been ever so long since you have invited the viscount and me to dinner."
"And I regret my oversight."
"It seems you favor the shades of wine and gold. I should have chosen marigold for the draperies rather than wine velvet."
Edmund did not spend a great deal of time with his sister for good reason. Her critical tongue annoyed him. She noticed every detail and remarked on each.
"I shall consult with you in the future," Edmund replied with a forced smile.
Up until now he'd been pleased with the appearance of his home. Edmund had been under the impression that he'd accomplished pleasant surroundings with little time or interest beyond making Stamford House a welcoming respite for his sporting companions.
"You would be wise." Slanting him a satisfied smile, Jane tipped her head.
"A wise man am I," he jested.
Jane possessed piercing green eyes and little sense of humor. "I do hope you did not find Rose Hall in disrepair," she said.
"Rose Hall flourishes," Edmund reported without hesitation. Which was not quite the truth.
In his diligent pursuit of good sport, Edmund had neglected his properties. He thrived on winning whatever game he played, be it billiards, tennis, archery, or bowling.
As a boy Edmund had been alone and overlooked. By excelling in sport, he'd become a man of consequence whose ability was applauded and whose company was sought after by many. He desired nothing less than the admiration of all he met.
Except, mayhap, Jane.
Seeking escape from his sister's disapproval, Edmund looked to where Jane's bird-watching husband, Viscount Chumley, conversed with Richard Digby.
He wondered what they discussed, willow tit and mistle thrush? What would Digby think of Kate? And she of him?
"What is keeping Aunt Cordelia?" Jane asked, her
More than a week before Lady Cordelia and Kate departed Rose Hall, Lord Stamford had traveled ahead to London. He bid them a fare-thee-well, explaining that before Parliament was seated he meant to oversee the preparations for their arrival at his town house.
Stamford House was an imposing structure located on the fashionable Strand. Edmund's London home boasted mullioned windows, wainscot paneling, waxed and polished oak floors.
Sculpted friezes depicting the tales of mythical Greek gods adorned each chamber. The furnishings were sparse but innovative, including daybeds carved with the Stamford arms. Ornamental wall coverings of maps and richly embroidered tapestries reflected the wealth and interests of the Stamford men who had made this house their home.
Owing to the lack of floor rushes, strewing herbs of hyssop and meadowsweet filled a multitude of baskets placed in every chamber. While Aunt Cordelia was in residence, Edmund was determined to overpower any malodorous city scents that might waft through open windows. He did not desire the blame for any new malady his aunt contracted.
Edmund waited for Kate and Aunt Cordelia in the private dining parlor. He'd quickly taken up the latest departure of dining separately from the servants, and was quite pleased with the smaller chamber.
He rubbed the back of his neck, although nothing ached or itched. 'Twas his nerves unraveling. Edmund had never attempted matchmaking, known by all to be women's work. He excelled in sport, as a man should. Yet, he defied custom for Kate.
If his efforts succeeded, Kate would be none the wiser and happily settled with an adoring husband before summer's end.
"Edmund!"
His sister's voice reminded him that he did not wait alone. Jane and her husband, Alexander Bowers, the Viscount of Chumley, had arrived, as well as the guest of honor, Richard Digby, the noted family limner. After greeting them, he'd left the threesome in conversation while he watched the door for Aunt Cordelia and Kate.
Jane sidled up to him. " Tis been ever so long since you have invited the viscount and me to dinner."
"And I regret my oversight."
"It seems you favor the shades of wine and gold. I should have chosen marigold for the draperies rather than wine velvet."
Edmund did not spend a great deal of time with his sister for good reason. Her critical tongue annoyed him. She noticed every detail and remarked on each.
"I shall consult with you in the future," Edmund replied with a forced smile.
Up until now he'd been pleased with the appearance of his home. Edmund had been under the impression that he'd accomplished pleasant surroundings with little time or interest beyond making Stamford House a welcoming respite for his sporting companions.
"You would be wise." Slanting him a satisfied smile, Jane tipped her head.
"A wise man am I," he jested.
Jane possessed piercing green eyes and little sense of humor. "I do hope you did not find Rose Hall in disrepair," she said.
"Rose Hall flourishes," Edmund reported without hesitation. Which was not quite the truth.
In his diligent pursuit of good sport, Edmund had neglected his properties. He thrived on winning whatever game he played, be it billiards, tennis, archery, or bowling.
As a boy Edmund had been alone and overlooked. By excelling in sport, he'd become a man of consequence whose ability was applauded and whose company was sought after by many. He desired nothing less than the admiration of all he met.
Except, mayhap, Jane.
Seeking escape from his sister's disapproval, Edmund looked to where Jane's bird-watching husband, Viscount Chumley, conversed with Richard Digby.
He wondered what they discussed, willow tit and mistle thrush? What would Digby think of Kate? And she of him?
"What is keeping Aunt Cordelia?" Jane asked, her
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