her brother-in-law, though the scar on his face had not been there when she last saw him, and the slimness of youth had been replaced by fat that strained at his coat and pantaloons.
‘Cecil?’ she said.
He made her a mock bow. ‘At your service, sister. May I present my good friends, Sir Roland Bentwater and Mr Augustus Spike?’
The two men, one tall and thin as a pole, the other thickset and swarthy, rose and sketched her a bow to which she replied with a slight movement of her head. ‘Gentlemen.’ Then, addressing Cecil, ‘I did not know you would be coming today. If you had let me know, I would have been better prepared to receive you…’
‘We don’t need receiving. This is my house, I come and go as I please.’
‘Of course. I am sorry you were not here in time to speak to your father before he died—’
‘Sorry? Was he sorry he banished me, was he anxious to make amends?’
‘I believe he was.’
‘That’s as may be, but I have not forgiven him, nor would I have, so perhaps it is as well we did not meet again.’
She decided to ignore that. ‘I have ordered refreshment. While you are having that, I will have your room prepared.’
‘My father’s room, I hope. The master bedroom.’
‘Why, no, I did not think you would want to use that until it had been refurbished. But, of course, you may have things ordered as you wish.’
‘I wish to sleep in my father’s bed and I wish rooms prepared for my friends and our valets who will be arriving with our luggage before the day is out.’
‘Very well. If you excuse me, I will see to it. Foster will serve you while I am gone.’
‘Foster, who is he?’
‘The footman. He admitted you.’
‘Oh, him.’ His tone was disparaging. ‘What happened to Jenkins?’
‘He grew old and decided to retire. He lives in a cottage on the cliff top now.’
‘I think I had better interview all the staff, let them know who is master. I’d be obliged if you would gather them all together in the hall in an hour.’
She inclined her head to acknowledge the instruction and left the room in as dignified a manner as she could manage, but she was seething. The new Lord Hobart was treating her like a housekeeper, not a word of condolence or sorrow at the loss of his father, not a word of gratitude for what she had done to keep the place going, not a word of reassurance that she would be given a home. And if he did offer it, she was not at all sure she would accept—she had taken an instant aversion to him. She passed Foster bearing the tea tray, followed by one of the maids with cakes and sweetmeats, and instructed them to serve the refreshments before carrying on her way up the stairs to warn Miss Quinn to keep the girls to their own suite of rooms until she said they could come down.
Then she went back downstairs to the kitchen where the servants were gossiping and speculating about the new master. She brought them to order and gave instructions for her belongings to be moved out of the bedchamber she had used on the first floor. She had chosen it when the late Lord Hobart became ill so that she would be close at hand if he needed her, but if the new Lord Hobart meant to occupy his father’s room it was not appropriate nor desirable. ‘I’ll use the guest room on the top floor near the girls,’ she told the chambermaids. ‘One of his lordship’s guests can have my room and prepare another along the same corridor for the other. And rooms for the valets who are on their way, I believe.’
‘And his lordship?’ Betsy asked, longing to make some comment about her ladyship having to give up her room for those dreadful men, but not daring to.
‘The old lord’s room. I’ll come and help you directly. When you have done, all the servants are to assemble in the hall to meet the new master.’
‘All of us?’ Cook asked.
‘Yes, all. Tom, go and tell the outside staff to come too. In…’ she consulted the clock that stood on the mantle ‘…three-quarters of an hour. Leave whatever you are doing and line up in the hall.’
There were not many servants for so large a house and Cecil, pacing up and down the row, a full wine glass in his hand, was obviously surprised. ‘Is this everyone?’ he demanded of Charlotte.
‘It is. When Lord Hobart became too ill to receive visitors, we shut up half the house and did not need a large staff.’
‘I want the rooms opened up again. I mean to entertain. As for staff, we shall see how these do before deciding on others.’ He waved his hand to dismiss them all. ‘Go back to your work. We will dine at five.’
They scuttled off and he turned to Charlotte ‘Are you sure I have seen everyone? I recollect you have two daughters…’
‘They are not servants, my lord, to be paraded before you.’
‘But they do live here? They are not away at school?’
‘They are too young to go away. I look after them myself with the help of Miss Quinn, their governess.’
‘Who pays her wages?’
‘Lord Hobart did.’
‘Hmm. I am not sure that I wish to continue that arrangement. After all, your offspring have no claim on the estate, have they? I would rather employ a decent butler.’
‘But they are your nieces, my lord, all the kin you have now.’
‘I intend to marry, then I shall have kin of my own.’
‘I see.’
‘I am sure you do,’ he said, smiling silkily.
She did not answer. Her head was whirling with the knowledge that her brother-in-law was not going to be bountiful, that if she stayed, she would stay under sufferance and be an unpaid housekeeper, that Miss Quinn would probably be dismissed and her girls would be faced with a life very different from the one they had known. And when the horrible man married, what would happen to them then?
‘Food for thought, eh?’ he queried.
‘It is your business,’ she said. ‘May I ask when you are to be married?’
He laughed. ‘When I have found a suitable bride, one who will acknowledge who is master in his own house and will do as she is told.’ He looked up as his two companions sauntered down the stairs from an inspection of their rooms. ‘You need say nothing of this conversation to my friends,’ he murmured, then, turning to them, said jovially, ‘Have you been made comfortable? Is everything to your satisfaction?’
‘It’ll do for now,’ Sir Roland said, wafting his quizzing glass around. ‘But it’s devilish dull here, ain’t it?’
‘I warned you it would be, didn’t I? You can always return to the Smoke.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we want to do that
