The Secrets of Colchester Hall - Sophie Barnes Page 0,3

employ for intimate reasons.” She gave Angelica a pointed look.

Angelica felt her lips twitch. “You’ve quite a wicked mind for someone who’s so soft spoken.”

“Well, I might not be outgoing, but that doesn’t stop my brain from working. And don’t tell me you haven’t had the same notion.”

Of course she had. Her mother had always been shockingly forthright with her, for, as she liked to say, knowledge was power and ignorance only led to bad choices. So Angelica knew what went on between men and women behind closed doors, and she knew it was common for some men to keep a mistress.

Angelica rolled her eyes at her own wayward thoughts and shook her head. There was obviously a Mr. Essex and shame on her anyway for immediately thinking the worst just because the woman didn’t fit the typical housekeeper mold.

“Come on,” Angelica told Lucy as she grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m sure there must be a library. Let’s go find it, shall we?”

They checked with both of their mothers first just to let them know where they were off to. “We’ll order some tea,” Angelica said as they walked down the stairs. She pulled her shawl tighter to ward off the chill creeping up the back of her neck. Good lord, it was only September, yet it felt like the middle of winter. Which was reason enough for her not to marry Lord Sterling. In spite of its grandeur, Colchester Hall was felt a huge mausoleum, and she could not see herself living here.

Raising a snifter of brandy to his lips, Randolph Benedict Scott Trevarian took a long swallow and savored the hot burn that followed. Inviting six debutantes to his home for the sake of selecting one as his future viscountess had been his idea alone. He had no one to blame for their presence but himself. Yet he’d started to have some serious doubts about the sanity of his decision since their arrival, because now he had to entertain them. At the very least, he should have asked some of his married friends to attend the house party as well, for the sake of balance and, perhaps, moral support.

But he’d had no such brilliant notion until this second and now it was too late. He was alone as host and gentleman with six expectant young ladies and their eager chaperones to contend with. He glanced at the clock. It was almost six thirty. He took another sip of his drink, aware that he ought to go down and greet his guests as they gathered for dinner.

A knock at the door offered a welcome delay.

“Enter!”

Mrs. Essex glided into his study. She was, he’d noted a long time ago when she’d first begun in his employ, exceptionally pretty, although there was something about her – a flawlessness – he found strangely unappealing. Nevertheless, it had surprised him that his wife had hired her, but she’d been confident in his faithfulness and insisted they help the poor woman who’d recently lost her husband.

Now here they were, a widow and widower beneath the same roof. He had no doubt some of the other servants wondered if they’d become lovers. And Randolph was man enough to admit to having considered it on occasion, if only for a fleeting second. For although he knew most men would probably let themselves be tempted by the lovely Mrs. Essex, he wasn’t really attracted to her at all. Never had been. And even if he were, he was not the sort of man who’d ever proposition a servant, no matter how high ranking she might be.

“Since you’re the only gentleman here, I thought you might like to forego the after dinner drink in your study and take tea with the ladies instead,” Mrs. Essex said with a warm and inviting smile. “It will allow you to further your acquaintance with them in a less formal setting.”

“How thoughtful.” Randolph set his glass aside and met her gaze directly. “What is your opinion of them so far?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Can’t or don’t wish to?” He deliberately smiled in an effort to soften her up. “Come now, Mrs. Essex, I’d like to know what you think.”

Mrs. Essex appeared to consider. Randolph glanced at the clock. He really should get going. “None,” she eventually said.

“That’s not very helpful.”

“Perhaps not, but none of the ladies you have invited stand out.” She shrugged one shoulder. “They’re forgettable. Except for Lady Seraphina.”

“Oh?” As she was the daughter of a