man cannot think. The room fills the mind too much,’ Dell responded.
Ross grinned. ‘We did not do much thinking in those days, did we?’
Dell nodded, his face still grim. ‘None at all, I recall.’
Ross perused the ceiling and walls again. ‘In those days we would have been riveted by the naked ladies.’ He stopped in front of one such figure, a goddess who appeared as if she would step out from the wall and join them.
Dell paced. ‘Remind me again why we were compelled to come here?’
Ross had already explained. ‘You wanted to become acquainted with Lord Tinmore, so calling to enquire after his health is only polite, especially after his illness kept him away from your dinner.’
The door opened and both men turned. Ross smiled. It was Genna, the one person he’d hoped to see when he concocted this scheme to call at Tinmore Hall.
Genna strode over to them. ‘Rossdale. Penford. How good of you to call. My sister will be here in a few minutes. She has ordered refreshment for you, as well.’
Dell frowned. ‘Lord Tinmore is still ill, then?’
‘Lorene can better answer your questions.’ She gave Dell a cordial smile. ‘But, yes, Tinmore remains unwell.’
She gestured to the gilt stools cushioned in green damask that lined the walls of the room. ‘Do sit.’
The room was in sore need of a rearrangement of furniture more conducive to conversation, Ross thought. A style more in tune with the present.
‘Tell me, how is the weather?’ Genna asked politely. ‘I see our snow still covers the fields. Was it not terribly cold to ride this distance?’
‘Not so terribly cold.’ Ross kept his expression bland. ‘I suspect some people would consider walking this far even when it is cold outside.’ He darted a glance her way and saw she understood his joke.
‘We felt it our duty to enquire into Lord Tinmore’s health,’ Dell said solemnly.
‘How very good of you,’ she responded, her voice kind.
Ross gave her an approving look.
‘How were the roads?’ she asked.
Dell shrugged. ‘Slippery in places, but the horses kept their footing.’
‘I think they relished the exercise,’ Rossdale added. He’d relished it, as well.
She looked at a loss for what else to say. He fished around to find a topic and rescue her from having to make conversation.
She beat him to it. ‘Tell me, do you plan to stay at Summerfield House for Christmastide?’
‘At present that is our plan,’ Dell responded.
Genna looked surprised. ‘Do you not travel to visit your families?’
Dell averted his gaze and Rossdale answered. ‘We decided to avoid all that.’
He hoped his tone warned her not to ask more about that. Dell’s grief at the loss of his entire family was still raw. It was why Ross had elected to pass up a Christmas visit to his father at Kessington Hall. So he could be with his friend at such a time.
That and because he preferred his friend’s company to the politically advantageous guests his father always invited.
‘What are your plans?’ Ross asked her.
She sighed. ‘Lord Tinmore plans a house party. Several of his friends will come to stay.’ She did not seem to look forward to this. ‘Guests should arrive next week.’
‘No, they will not.’ Her sister entered the room. Genna and the gentlemen stood. ‘How do you do, sirs? It is kind of you to call.’
Dell’s voice turned raspy. ‘How—how fares Lord Tinmore?’
Lady Tinmore glanced up at him, then gazed away. ‘He is better. The fever broke, but he remains too weak to receive callers.’
‘We do understand,’ Dell said stiffly. ‘Please send our best wishes for his recovery.’
Lady Tinmore darted another glance at him. ‘I will. Thank you, sir.’
Dell seemed uncomfortable around these sisters. Not ready for even this relatively benign social call?
Genna turned to her sister. ‘What did you mean the guests will not arrive next week?’
Her sister replied, ‘Tinmore has asked that the house party be cancelled. His secretary is to write to the guests today.’
The refreshments arrived. Ross and Dell accepted glasses of wine and offers of biscuits.
Ross stepped away while Lady Tinmore poured for Dell. To his delight, Genna joined him.
He wanted a chance to speak to her. ‘Are you disappointed about the house party?’ he asked.
She laughed. ‘Not at all. I do not rub well with Lord Tinmore’s friends.’
Her sister heard her and snapped, ‘It is cancelled because Lord Tinmore needs the time to recover. He has been very sick, Genna.’
‘I know that, Lorene,’ Genna said softly.
Ross felt for her. No one liked being reprimanded in front of others.
He took a sip of his wine. ‘Tell me about this room, Lady Tinmore. It is quite unusual.’
‘It is called the Mount Olympus room,’ Lady Tinmore responded, sounding glad to change the subject. ‘Depicting the Greek gods. My husband said it was painted over one hundred years ago by the Italian muralist, Verrio. He painted a similar scene even more elaborate at Burghley House. And one at Chatsworth, as well. My husband prefers this one, though.’
Ross noticed Genna gazing at the walls and ceiling as if seeing them for the first time.
‘It is hard to imagine one even more elaborate,’ he said diplomatically. ‘Although it does remind me of rooms we saw in Rome and Florence and Venice.’
‘You’ve visited Rome and Florence and Venice?’ Genna’s eyes grew wide.
‘We did indeed,’ Ross replied. ‘On our Grand Tour. You would have appreciated the fine art there.’
‘Lord Tinmore’s grandfather and great-grandfather collected many fine pieces of Italian art. They are hung in almost every room of this house,’ Lady Tinmore said almost dutifully.
‘They are?’ Genna looked surprised.
Dell drained the contents of his wineglass and placed it on the table. ‘We must take our leave.’ He spoke to Lady Tinmore, but did not quite meet her eye. ‘I do hope Lord Tinmore continues to improve.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
