slowed to a halt and then stopped. A groom opened the carriage door and immediately stood back, allowing a man in a black-and-gold uniform to assist her. She took the footman’s hand and was helped down just as Luke gave the reins of his horse to a groom and came to her.
‘Have courage,’ he whispered. ‘It looks daunting, I know, but it is just a house.’
Roxanne lifted her head proudly, but she could not quite control the trembling of her hand as she placed it on his arm. Briefly, Luke covered it with his own and smiled at her. They walked towards the door, where a small group of servants wearing the earl’s colours of black and gold had assembled.
‘This is Marshall, my grandfather’s valet, and Mrs Arlet, the housekeeper.’
A tall thin woman dressed completely in black dipped a curtsy. ‘Welcome, Miss Peters. Please allow me to present the staff.’
Roxanne was led down a line of maids and footmen, ending with the scullery maid and the boot boy. She kept her head high and a smile on her lips, giving just the faintest nod to them all. It was the way a properly brought up young woman would act, she was sure, and brought her a look of respect from the housekeeper. However, she noticed that Luke chatted to one or two of the footmen and smiled at the pretty parlour maid. Such behaviour was acceptable from him, for he had known the staff all his life. She was a newcomer and should keep her distance, at least for the moment.
‘Perhaps you would take my fiancée up to her chamber, Mrs Arlet?’
‘Yes, my lord, of course. This way, Miss Peters.’
Roxanne glanced at Luke, but he was talking to the earl’s valet. She steadied her nerves and followed the housekeeper up the wide magnificent staircase, her gaze moving to the high-vaulted ceiling of the entrance hall. The banisters were heavily carved mahogany, which had darkened with age and polish, the stone steps covered over with a rich blue Persian-style carpet. The entrance hall floor was tiled in black-and-white marble, but the hall upstairs was covered in the same carpet and looked a recent addition to the elsewhere-faded grandeur of the house.
‘The earl ordered that you be given the best suite of guestrooms, miss,’ Mrs Arlet said as she led the way along the hall and into the east wing. ‘They have recently been refurbished. This is a large house and in constant need of repair or refurbishment. Some of the family rooms have not been used in an age, so nothing has been done to them. No doubt that will change when his lordship marries.’
‘Yes, I would imagine so,’ Roxanne said, her heart racing. Naturally everyone would expect a marriage to be forthcoming. A tiny pang of guilt pierced her, because the housekeeper looked pleased at the idea of change. ‘I think—perhaps you would give me a little tour of the house one day, Mrs Arlet? Not just the main reception rooms—but the kitchen and anywhere else I ought to see.’
‘Yes, miss. I should be pleased to, though Lord Clarendon will show you his own rooms, I dare say. The west wing is not often used, because the tower is in need of repair. Lord Clarendon’s parents once occupied that wing but after the accident the earl closed the whole wing off, and no one bothers to go there.’
‘The accident…’
‘When the late Lord and Lady Clarendon were killed, miss.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Roxanne nodded. ‘I was not sure of your meaning.’
‘No, miss. I suppose there have been a few accidents in the family, what with the earl’s only son dying of a fever when he was in his teen years—and then the earl’s wife taking a chill after being caught in a rainstorm. I think it broke the master’s heart when his daughter was killed so cruelly. He never quite got over it, for she was his favourite.’ Mrs Arlet shook her head. ‘They have not been a lucky family, but I am certain that is all about to change now, miss.’
‘Yes, we must hope so,’ Roxanne replied. It was amazing how much she had learned from the housekeeper in just a few minutes. Luke had told her his parents’ story, but not the rest of it. She understood now why he was prepared to go through with this sham engagement in order to please his grandfather in his last months. She must not let him down, however hard it might be to carry off the part of a loving fiancée. ‘That is up to me in part, is it not?’
‘There’s been a different atmosphere here since the letter came,’ Mrs Arlet said. She unlocked a door and stood back for Roxanne to enter. ‘The earl gave orders for most of the rooms to be opened up immediately. We’ll be giving a ball to celebrate his lordship’s engagement, miss. Everyone will want to meet you.’
‘Oh…yes, of course,’ Roxanne said and took a deep breath as she looked about her. ‘This is beautiful, thank you. When will the ball be held? I am not sure I brought a gown suitable for a grand ball.’
‘No doubt that can be rectified, miss. There are bales of silk in the sewing room waiting for just such a purpose. We’ll fetch the seamstress from town and she will be pleased to serve you. You’ll be the countess one day, after all.’
‘Yes.’ Roxanne looked round. ‘I think perhaps I should tidy myself.’
‘Yes, miss. The earl will be waiting for you in the main parlour downstairs. If you could be ready, I shall serve tea in twenty minutes.’
‘I can be ready, but I’m not certain I know where to go.’
‘Lord bless you, miss. Just go down the stairs to the main hall and someone will direct you. The footmen are here for that very purpose and we are all eager to make your stay at Hartingdon as pleasant as possible.’
Roxanne thanked her and she went away. She was left standing in a small but pretty sitting room and beyond that was a bedroom. The main colours were green, gold, cream and yellow, which gave the rooms a light bright appearance. Roxanne ran her fingers reverently over the surface of a delicate and very pretty desk suitable for a lady. An elbow chair was set ready for use; the sofa was covered in green-striped silk and there was a rolled cushion at each end. Small occasional tables were dotted about the room and a bookcase with leather-bound volumes and porcelain figures behind the glass doors occupied the length of one wall.
Going into the bedroom, which was equally well furnished with a dressing table, matching chests and a padded stool at the end of the bed, Roxanne took off her pelisse and let it fall on one of the pretty chairs. She sat down in front of the dressing table and studied her reflection in the shield-shaped mirror. The frame was fashioned of smooth mahogany and inlaid with satinwood, set on a stand so that it could be moved to give a better view. The table was set out with silver items, including brushes and combs and perfume pots. How much luxury there was in a house like this!
She had removed her bonnet earlier and now took the brush to smooth over her hair, pulling at the tendrils that framed her face. She was wearing a silver brooch in her lace, but otherwise had no jewellery other than her ring. Touching the brooch, she smiled because it reminded her of Sofia and she could almost hear her friend applauding.
‘Now we shall see if I really am fit to be a lady,’ she said softly. ‘Wish me luck, dearest Sofia.’
‘You were born to the part, dearest.’
For a moment it was as if her friend were with her and she felt her courage return. Her part here was not to deceive for advantage, but to bring comfort and joy to an old man’s last days.
Roxanne’s things had not yet been brought up so she did not have the opportunity to change her gown; deciding that she looked the best she could
