Carola Dunn by Christmas in the Country Page B

personal servants are not yet arrived, you have only to ring for assistance.”
     Unwillingly detaching herself from Rusholme’s arm, Lady Anne followed her parents and the footman. At the foot of the marble, gilt-banistered stairs she glanced back, smiled, and gave a little wave.
     “Have you an understanding with that young woman, Garth?” the marchioness asked austerely, pulling her green-and-pink Norwich silk shawl closer about her purple-clad shoulders.
     “No, Mama,” he assured her, kissing her cheek. “I have stood up with her at several balls in Town, but I’ve never even so much as called on the Winkworths.”
     “Then her conduct is unbecomingly forward.”
     “Come, come, my dear,” said her husband. “Modern manners are freer than in our day, and a little flirtation does no harm. A pretty chit, hey, Garth?”
     “Lady Anne is considered a dazzler, sir.”
     “And her family and fortune are irreproachable,” Lady Easthaven conceded.
     “Otherwise you’d not have invited her, would you, Mama? I believe Lady Anne has refused a number of acceptable offers, but if she’s holding out in hopes of becoming a marchioness I fear she is doomed to disappointment.”
     His father laughed. “Your mother has more than one string to her bow, my boy,” he commiserated. “Come, my dear, let us sit down for a few minutes before the next consignment of feminine pulchritude and good breeding arrives.”
     “She’s here,” said Rusholme as the door-knocker sounded, “and I’m off.”
     Taking the stairs two at a time, he was at the top of the first flight when a familiar voice stopped him. After a moment’s hesitation, he ran back down. His friend’s recent marriage had been a nasty shock, but the Honourable Mrs. Denham was an inoffensive young lady.
     Two carriages must have arrived on each other’s heels, for another group entered as he greeted the Denhams. “David, my dear chap, good to see you. And Mrs. Denham, welcome to Easthaven.”
     “Thank you, Lord Rusholme.”
     “Hello, Garth.” David looked oddly guilty. The explanation was not far to seek. “Let me present you to my sister-in-law, Miss Kitty Wallace.”
     Betrayed! Rusholme flashed his so-called friend a fulminating glance. Gad, a fellow had only to get himself leg-shackled and he wanted the rest of the world to join him in parson’s mousetrap!
     Miss Wallace, shrinking behind her brother-in-law’s broad back, had to be bodily hauled forth by her sister to make her timid curtsy. Rusholme bowed and said everything proper. No doubt the poor little mouse had had dinned into her that she must endeavour to fix his interest. Already she bored him, but at least she didn’t appear at all likely to chase him shamelessly, like Lady Anne.
     For David’s sake he’d be kind to her, without giving the slightest excuse for raised hopes.
     A footman bore the three away and Rusholme turned to the latest comers. No marriageable females, thank heaven! The stout, good-natured Lady Adeline had been his mother’s crony forever, and her husband was a political colleague of the marquis.
     With them was Lady Adeline’s nephew, Henry Ffoliot. Though not an intimate friend, he was one of Rusholme’s Corinthian set, a good enough fellow if rather more of a libertine than Rusholme quite cared for. He was rumoured to be all to pieces, in fact to be hanging on his aunt’s sleeve, desperately in need of a wealthy bride. No doubt he’d be glad to take Lady Anne off Rusholme’s hands. Unfortunately, that worldly young lady would never cast a second glance at an untitled wastrel, for all his dashing good looks.
     Yet another footman led the trio away. “How many more are you expecting today?” Rusholme asked his mother.
     “No more, I believe. Julia and family will not be here till tomorrow. Maria arrived earlier. I understand your nieces and nephews are eagerly awaiting a visit from their uncle.”
     “I’ll go up to the nursery as