the rumours of him being sunk in dissipations in London just that, ill-founded gossip?
‘Are you living at Hawthorne Park, then?’ she asked.
Barto’s dark gaze skimmed over her, as though he had forgotten her very existence. ‘Yes. I have been home for some time.’
His cursory response irked her, and Sydony was tempted to ask why he had not paid them a visit before they moved. But the maid entered the room at that moment with another course.
‘The cook is to be commended,’ Kit said, as he dug into a piece of boiled beef. He was happy with simple fare and lots of it. Although he was nearly as tall as Barto, Sydony swore he was still growing. ‘I think she will do nicely for us.’
‘But she won’t stay above a month,’ Sydony said. ‘She is moving away to live with her daughter.’ Or, at least, that’s what she had told Sydony when pressed. The woman was terse and uncommunicative, so Sydony could only hope for someone more agreeable in the future.
‘Have you talked with all of them, the new servants?’ Barto asked.
‘Of course,’ Sydony said. Did he think her a useless henwit? Or did he imagine that Kit had suddenly developed an interest in running a household? As the sole female, she had been in charge of their home for years.
Barto did not glance her way when she answered, but looked to Kit. ‘It appears that Mr Sparrowhawk was not exaggerating his difficulties, for they seem rather reluctant to be here.’
‘The servants?’ Kit asked, with a look of surprise.
Sydony frowned. ‘That is not true. The maid is fresh and eager for her first position.’
‘Perhaps because she does not know the house, but the other two are less enthusiastic,’ Barto said.
Sydony blinked at him. Had he always been so obnoxious, or had he acquired the habit when living in London? Perhaps it was his newly elevated rank that made him an expert on every subject, even her own staff.
‘I don’t know about the cook or the maid, but I talked to the fellow, Newton, and he did seem a bit peculiar,’ Kit admitted. ‘When I said we needed someone to clear brush, he was quite adamant in refusing any outside work.’
‘Perhaps he has an aversion to fresh air,’ Sydony said.
Barto ignored her jibe, as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Apparently, there’s some sort of history to the house, but I can’t discover exactly what. No one is very talkative.’
Although Barto’s words confirmed her own suspicions, Sydony did not want him ruining Kit’s pride of ownership with vague insinuations. ‘I think I should appreciate a house that has been talked about,’ she said.
‘Most definitely, especially if there is a delicious scandal attached,’ Kit said with a wicked grin. ‘Perhaps an illicit affair.’
Sydony nearly choked at the thought of Great-aunt Elspeth being involved in something so tawdry, but she fell in with the spirit of the moment. ‘I think I would prefer a duel,’ she suggested.
‘Or orgies along the lines of the Devil’s Club.’
‘Kit!’ Sydony sputtered in shock, while her brother laughed at her outrage. But Barto didn’t join in the play. Apparently, he was too dignified to engage in such silliness, because he looked annoyed, if not affronted, by their amusement. But he said nothing further on the history of the house, and Sydony was glad when the conversation veered in another direction.
She couldn’t help wondering just what Barto had discovered, but even if there were some sort of story to the house, what could they do about it? They could not sell, except at a great loss, so they must live here and make the best of it.
And they did have the maze, Sydony thought as she remembered the mysterious labyrinth that Aunt Elspeth had so disliked. Suddenly, Sydony wondered if the hired man’s aversion to exterior jobs had any relation to the overgrown hedges behind the house. At the thought, she drew in a sharp breath, and was glad to see that her brother was too deep in conversation with Barto to notice. Of course, if she suggested such a thing, Kit would say her imagination was running wild, a result of reading too many Gothic novels. But didn’t they always have a dark, mysterious villain?
Sydony glanced surreptitiously at Barto. Handsome, cool and stiffly polite, he was too elegant and collected to qualify. No doubt, he would be at ease even in the finest circles, which made her wonder what was he doing in their dining hall. Why did he insist on staying? And why would a nobleman concern himself with another’s servants at all, let alone question them about the house he was visiting?
Sydony frowned, unable to piece together the puzzle that was Viscount Hawthorne, but she had the feeling, just as she’d had with the solicitor, that there was something their old friend wasn’t saying.
Although it was late by the time Sydony heard Kit come to bed, she drew him into her room for a private conversation, their first real chance to talk since he had left the house this morning. Pulling him over to a seat by the windows, she listened as he spoke enthusiastically about his plans for the property and Barto’s suggestions. But at the mention of the new viscount, Sydony studied her brother closely.
‘Don’t you think it odd that he arrived here immediately after we did when he hasn’t approached us for years?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Kit said. Leaning back in the upholstered chair, he crossed his arms behind his head and stretched out his long legs. ‘He’s been busy. And you heard him—his mother had only just informed him of our move.’
‘But common courtesy requires that a visitor, especially an uninvited one, wait until their hosts are settled into the new residence.’
Kit grinned. ‘I’m afraid that men don’t think along those lines. And since when are you a stickler for etiquette?’
‘I’m not,’ Sydony said. ‘But Viscount Hawthorne should be, given his vaunted position in society.’
‘He’s human, Syd, just like he’s always been,’ Kit countered.
‘And how would we know what he is now or has been over these past years? We saw little enough of him once he went off to Eton, to be among his own.’
Kit snorted. ‘He had no choice, Syd. He wasn’t blessed with a father who held the public school system in contempt, like we were. I was lucky to be tutored at home, rather than be tormented by older boys and sadistic men with little or no interest in teaching.’
Sydony glanced at him sharply. ‘What? Is that what Barto endured? Did he tell you so?’
Kit shrugged, obviously unwilling to share a confidence. ‘It’s what everyone endures and why Father took our studies upon himself.’
‘Beyond his own love of scholarship,’ Sydony noted, with a smile. She was grateful for their father’s habits, which had given her the opportunity to learn more than most females.
‘I suppose that you saw him more often than I did,’ Sydony mused.
‘Who? Barto?’ Kit asked.
Sydony nodded,
