Page 25 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

KNIGHTSWOOD MANOR

Six months later

L ord Dominic Hugo Rotherby withdrew from his naked entanglement with his usual regret. His new wife was near impossible to leave, but he’d promised Damerel some help with the school.

Furthermore, there was Horace to consider– Horace, his feisty tiger who’d adored both his guvnor and the new Lady Rotherby right up until their wedding day, after which he’d morphed into the most difficult human being of their collective knowledge.

They’d offered him a position as Head Groom in the hope it might offset the wedding blow, but neither his new quarters, nor his eye-watering allowance, had raised so much as one condescending eyebrow. Sophie joked he was still affronted by the new lavender phaeton he was obliged to perch upon on occasion, but they both knew the truth– that he was afflicted by the much greater offence of having to share him .

Thoughtfully, Dominic surveyed her sleeping form, her hair fanned out like spilt honey across their tangled sheets. Despite making him wait far longer than he wanted, fully supported by his fierce aunt, the last six months had been the happiest of his life.

He’d thought he knew all there was to know about women– every curve caressed, every mystery uncovered– yet Lady Sophie Rotherby had taught him he was nothing more than a hapless schoolboy, na?ve to the joy of body-and-soul-bewitching love. And now he was as much enchanted as he was married– even more so when Sophie announced that their distraction had resulted in a further distraction, forecast for late summer.

It was the news for which he never thought he’d hope, after spending so many years believing he’d never marry. And while he couldn’t wait to meet a new Rotherby with Fairfax virtues, neither he nor Sophie had the stomach to tell their beloved Horace that his bad dream had just become a nightmare.

His smile spread as a low knock sounded at the door.

‘Apologies for the disturbance, my lord,’ Benson murmured quietly, looking a little flustered.

Rotherby surveyed his elderly butler with misgiving and, not for the first time, wondered if he’d done the right thing in bringing some of his household to Devon. He and Sophie had thought it a chance for them to consider retiring to the sleepy local village, yet retirement seemed to be the last thing on their minds.

Benson cleared his throat.

‘Miss Matilda sends her best regards, my lord, and wonders if you and Lady Rotherby might be available to attend a circus performance in the blue saloon, after luncheon? I have been instructed to inform you that there will be acrobatics, juggling and some fire-eating– apparently dependent on whether the Viscountess Damerel has hidden all the candles. She has also recruited the services of Miss Harriet Godminster to assist with costumes, as circus-performing requires an extensive wardrobe … apparently.’

Rotherby smiled. His elderly retainer was wearing an expression of long-suffering disapproval, yet there was a twinkle in his eye he’d not seen for a long while, and colour in his cheeks only Devon could have put there.

‘So long as Harriet is willing, I have no objections,’ Lord Rotherby replied.

‘Miss Matilda was also keen to impress that she would brook no absences, sir,’ Benson said, pan-faced. ‘And I’m to tell you she has also invited Sir Thomas Fairfax, the Viscount Damerel, the Viscountess, Miss Josephine, Masters Edward and Henry?—’

‘Yes, yes,’ Lord Rotherby intervened hastily. ‘I understand the entire household has been invited, thank you?—’

‘But, and on this point she was quite particular, my lord,’ Benson said emphatically, ‘no pigwidgeoned dunderheads !’

‘Ah, and do we know many of those, Benson?’ Lord Rotherby replied, feeling rather bewildered.

‘Apparently, Lady Sophie knows of a few my Lord, and Matilda wanted to remind everyone that only persons of good character are on the invitation list.’

‘Well, that’s a relief, thank?—’

‘Including Duke Wellington.’

‘I see…’

‘Who is to perform as well.’

Lord Rotherby waited, beginning to understand that his wife’s youngest sister had Benson entirely wrapped around her little finger, and Benson was as much traumatised as he was captivated.

‘Miss Godminster also asked me to mention there has been a delivery from Paris, which she believes may be a response to her ladyship’s sketches.’

‘Ah, well that is good news, Benson.’

‘Though I’m not sure what a Parisian modiste can have to say to a lady in the Rotherby household after all,’ Benson huffed.

‘Quite,’ Lord Rotherby agreed, trying to edge back through the doorway. ‘But if she takes Paris by storm in the spring, no one will be prouder than me.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Benson said, clearly not quite ready to leave. ‘Mrs Farleigh was also wondering, my lord… that is, she asked if you’d like the, ahem… adjoining bedchamber opened now?’ he added, coughing to cover his embarrassment. ‘It’s only on account of the length of time Lady Rotherby has occupied your lordship’s bedchamber, my lord. She is a little concerned that you might not both be getting… enough rest.’

A grin broke out across Lord Rotherby’s face, as he finally understood the question to which his elderly retainer had been building.

‘Benson, please tell Mrs Farleigh that I appreciate her concern, but my answer is the same today as it was three months ago. Lady Rotherby and I are most content with our bedchamber arrangements, and will undoubtedly be so for some time. Perhaps, if Mrs Farleigh is so inclined, she might like to redirect her concern to Horace, who will be in need of considerable understanding for the foreseeable future?’

‘Yes, my lord. I will let her know, my lord,’ Benson said with a sigh, finally turning away.

Rotherby closed the door with an amused smile, before glancing at his sleeping wife. Then he set about collecting his scattered clothing, marvelling at how he, Lord Dominic Hugo Rotherby, notorious rake, sworn gambler, wager-maker and unrivalled darling of the ton, could ever have been brought to this state: a married father-to-be with more headstrong family, whimsical friends and cantankerous dependents than he ever would have believed.

And that he was really, quite scandalously, content.