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Chilton straightened his cravat and smoothed down his coat. He might not be a scholar, but he was more than capable of rising to whatever challenges this week might present. Whether those challenges came in the form of intellectual discourse or sharp-tongued bluestockings remained to be seen.

With a nod to Jenkins, who would oversee the handling of his luggage, Chilton followed the butler into the imposing entrance hall.

The space soared two stories high, dominated by a grand staircase that curved elegantly upward.

Family portraits lined the walls, generations of Linfords gazing down with aristocratic hauteur.

A massive fireplace at one end held logs that crackled pleasantly, taking the edge off the autumn chill.

Through an open doorway, he could hear the murmur of voices—cultivated, educated tones engaged in what sounded like a spirited debate.

His steps faltered momentarily. Would he find anything to contribute to such conversations?

Would they welcome his presence, or merely tolerate it out of courtesy to their hosts?

"Lord Sutcliffe!" Jasper Linford himself emerged from the salon, his face alight with genuine pleasure.

Slightly built, with intelligent eyes magnified by wire-rimmed spectacles, he had been one of the few scholars at Oxford who had never made Chilton feel inadequate. "How good of you to come! Faith will be delighted—she's just gone to change for dinner."

"Wouldn't have missed it," Chilton replied, clasping his friend's outstretched hand. "Congratulations are in order, it seems. She's a remarkable woman."

"Indeed, she is," Jasper agreed, his expression softening at the mention of his bride-to-be. "But come, let me introduce you to the others. Some faces you'll recognize from our Oxford days, and some new friends I've made through my work."

As Jasper led him toward the salon, Chilton squared his shoulders and summoned his most charming smile.

Whatever intellectual trials awaited him inside, he would face them with the grace expected of a baron.

And if a certain Miss Martin arrived in time for dinner, perhaps he might even have an opportunity to offer a proper apology for his earlier misstep.

The blue salon lived up to its name, with walls of pale azure providing a serene backdrop for the gilt-framed landscapes that adorned them. Comfortable chairs and settees were arranged in conversational groupings, while tall windows offered views of the gardens now softening into twilight.

Several gentlemen turned at their entrance, conversations pausing as Jasper performed the introductions.

Lord Beaverbrook, a serious-faced man with prematurely silver hair at his temples, offered a cordial handshake.

"Sutcliffe, good to see you again. I believe we most recently met at Lady Harrington's musical evening last Season? "

"Indeed, we did," Chilton confirmed, recalling the event where Beaverbrook had delivered an impromptu lecture on astronomical phenomena to a group of fascinated debutantes. "Your explanation of the recent meteor shower was most illuminating."

Beaverbrook looked pleased at the recollection. "You have a good memory. Are you an enthusiast of the heavens yourself?"

Before Chilton could formulate a response that wouldn't reveal his complete ignorance of astronomy, Jasper steered him toward two other gentlemen engaged in what appeared to be an intense discussion over a sheaf of papers.

"Lincoln Welby, our botanist, and Mr. Sean Smythe, mathematician extraordinaire," Jasper introduced them. "Gentlemen, you will recall Lord Sutcliffe, an old friend from Oxford."

Both scholars offered polite greetings, though Chilton detected a certain reserve in their manner. He was, after all, not part of their intellectual circle—a fact they clearly recognized as readily as he did.

"We were just discussing the potential applications of Lincoln's discovery," Sean explained, gesturing to the papers before them. "A most remarkable property in certain tropical plants that might revolutionize medical treatment for fever."

"How fascinating," Chilton replied, wishing he had something more substantive to contribute. "I imagine such discoveries could benefit many people?"

Lincoln Welby nodded eagerly, his initial reserve melting somewhat at Chilton's interest. "Precisely! That's what I've been arguing. The potential for public good far outweighs any consideration of profit."

"Though one needn't exclude the other," observed a new voice as Lady Beaverbrook joined their circle.

A striking woman with intelligent eyes and an air of quiet authority, she offered Chilton a gracious smile.

"Lord Sutcliffe, welcome. I understand you've extensive lands in Berkshire?

Perhaps you might have interest in experimental agriculture—my husband has had remarkable results with new farming methods on our estates. "

"I would be most interested to learn more," Chilton replied with genuine enthusiasm.

Here, at last, was a topic where he might contribute meaningfully. "We've implemented some drainage improvements that have increased our wheat yields considerably, but I'm always seeking ways to improve productivity."

Lady Beaverbrook's eyebrows rose slightly, as if surprised by his knowledge. "Excellent. I shall ensure Ellis shares his findings with you during your stay."

As the conversation shifted to agricultural innovations, Chilton found himself relaxing slightly.

Perhaps he would not be entirely out of place after all.

These scholars and their spouses, for all their intellectual achievements, seemed to appreciate practical applications of knowledge—something he understood well from his years managing Sutcliffe.

A footman appeared at his elbow, offering a tray with glasses of sherry.

Chilton accepted one gratefully, using the moment to survey the room more fully.

Faith had clearly gathered an eclectic group for her wedding celebration.

Besides the scholars, he recognized several members of local gentry, a distinguished-looking clergyman deep in conversation with an elderly dowager, and a young couple who appeared to be distant relatives of the family.

No sign yet of Miss Martin, though. The stagecoach would likely arrive tomorrow, he reasoned, allowing passengers to seek accommodations at posting houses overnight. The thought of her making such a journey alone still troubled him, despite her evident confidence in her arrangements.

"A penny for your thoughts, Lord Sutcliffe?" Lady Beaverbrook had noticed his momentary distraction. "You seem preoccupied."

"Merely taking in the gathering," he replied smoothly. "Miss Somerton and Lord Jasper have assembled quite a diverse company."

"Indeed. I understand several more guests are expected tomorrow, including Faith's particular friend from Oxford." Her shrewd eyes studied him with unexpected interest. "Miss Martin, I believe? A most unusual young woman."

Something in her tone made Chilton wary.

"I've had the pleasure of meeting her briefly," he acknowledged carefully. "Though I confess I know her but little."

"I have enjoyed hearing about her from Miss Somerton. She has quite remarkable ideas about education," Lady Beaverbrook continued, watching his reaction. "Particularly education for those who traditionally have little access to it. A cause dear to my own heart, as it happens."

"A worthy endeavour," Chilton agreed, thinking of the Williams children and his recent conversations about establishing a school. "Though I imagine implementing such ideas presents significant challenges."

"As does any undertaking of value," she replied with a gentle smile.

"But I've found that the right combination of vision and practicality can overcome most obstacles.

Perhaps you, Miss Martin, and I might continue this discussion during your stay?

I sense we may have a lively discussion on the matter with your vastly differing perspective. "

He wasn’t sure about the veracity of her words but before Chilton could respond, the butler appeared at the salon entrance, announcing that supper would be served in thirty minutes. Guests began to disperse to their rooms to refresh themselves and change for the evening meal.

As Chilton followed a footman to his assigned chamber, he found himself intrigued by Lady Beaverbrook's suggestion.

Could his practical experience with estate management complement Miss Martin's educational vision in some way?

And why did the mere possibility of such collaboration quicken his pulse?

His chamber proved to be a spacious apartment with tall windows overlooking the eastern gardens. Jenkins had already unpacked his evening clothes and was waiting to assist him in changing for dinner. As the valet helped him into his formal attire, Chilton contemplated the evening ahead.

He would be seated among scholars and their wives, expected to engage in conversation worthy of their company.

A week ago, the prospect would have filled him with dread.

But now, he found himself curious about their work, their ideas—particularly as they might apply to the challenges he faced at Sutcliffe.

And tomorrow, Miss Martin would arrive. The thought both unnerved and excited him. She would surely still be irritated by his thoughtless offer at the inn, yet he found himself looking forward to their next encounter with an eagerness that surprised him.

As he descended to dinner, Chilton resolved to approach the coming week with an open mind. He might not be a scholar, but he had his own strengths and experiences to contribute. And perhaps, just perhaps, he might find more common ground with Meredith Martin than either of them expected.