Page 30 of The Bridal Quest

"It looks to me the sort of place that probably has a skeleton or two moldering in the cellars. Or mayhap a mad uncle locked up in the attic," Francesca told her.

Irene chuckled. "No, it looks to me more like—oh, something that one of those Elizabethan corsairs might have built for himself. Doesn't it have the look of an adventurer? Brash and bold?"

"Mmm, I suppose." Francesca cast a teasing glance at her. "Irene, you have deceived me. I believe that there is something of a romantic in you."

Irene blushed a little as she sat back in her seat. "Nonsense. Simply because one can see the appeal in something does not mean that one necessarily succumbs to it."

Francesca said nothing for a moment, merely smiled a little to herself, then changed the subject. "I feel sure that Lady Odelia will be there to greet us. Do you know Lady Pencully, Lady Wyngate?" she asked, looking toward Irene's mother.

"I have met her. I would not say I knew her, really," Claire replied carefully.

"I think to meet Lady Odelia is to know her," Francesca replied with a quick grin. "She is not a woman of subtlety."

Claire smiled back and admitted, "No. I believe that Lady Pencully is quite ... true to herself. Which is an excellent quality."

"No doubt," Francesca agreed wryly.

"I have never met Lady Pencully," Irene said, and looked toward her mother. "Have I? She sounds the sort whom one would remember."

"Oh, yes," Lady Claire agreed. "I do not think that you have met her. She does not get about much anymore. At least, she rarely comes to London."

"A fact for which we should all be grateful," Francesca told Irene. "I feel sure that she will not frighten you, Irene, but I was always terrified of her. Whenever she would come to Dancy Park to visit, I did my best to get out of calling on her. She never misses anything—whether it's a torn ruffle, a curl out of place or an unflattering style."

"You sound as if you know Lady Pencully well," Irene commented. "Is she a relation?"

Francesca's eyes widened, and she exclaimed, "Goodness, no! My family's home is near Dancy Park, one of the Duke of Rochford's estates. It is a pleasant place, and Lady Pencully, who is the duke's great-aunt, often came to visit him when he was in residence there."

"Do you know the others at Radbourne Park?" Lady Claire asked.

"No. Indeed, I have never been here before," Francesca explained. "I have never met Lady Pencully's sister. She is the present earl's grandmother, as I understand it. I am rather curious to meet her. I cannot help but wonder if she is like Lady Odelia. It is difficult to imagine two such in one family."

"Who else is in residence at the Park?" Irene asked.

"I would think that the late earl's second wife must live there, as well. He remarried late in life, I understand, but I have never met the countess. They did not visit London, I suppose because of the earl's advancing years and ill health. I do not even recall her name. They had a son, as well, only a boy still. I remember there was much talk about his losing his inheritance when Radbourne was restored to his family. I know little about them, though. And I am not sure if there are any other family members present. Lady Odelia has a way of skipping over 'minor details.'"

"Well, we will find out soon enough," Irene commented, looking out the window again.

They had almost reached the front steps of the house. The door had been opened, and a dignified-looking man dressed all in severe black made his way down the steps, followed by two liveried footmen. It was, Irene assumed, the butler.

He waited until the carriage pulled to a complete stop, then opened the door and bowed to the ladies inside. "Please allow me to welcome you to Radbourne Park, my ladies. I hope your journey was not too taxing."

"No, indeed. We made it in excellent spirits," Francesca assured him, taking his hand to step down from the carriage.

Irene and her mother followed Francesca. All three of them paused for a moment, looking up at the towering house. The butler allowed a brief smile of pride.

"The gatehouse was built by the first Earl of Radbourne," he told them. "Of course, there was an older home, a rather good specimen of the early Norman keep, but it has been unoccupied since the reign of King Henry VIII, when the first earl constructed his masterpiece. It was intended, you see, to rival Hampton Court itself, but sadly, Lord Radbourne died before anything more than this gatehouse was constructed. The second earl did not share his father's architectural vision and simply added the other wings to the gatehouse."

"Is there anything in the towers?" Irene asked, looking up to the tops of the round corner structures.

"Only winding stairs, my lady, and of course a magnificent view of the countryside from the top, if one is willing to make the climb."

"I should like to see it," Irene said.

"You will have to find a companion younger than I, then," her mother said. "I believe that I will be quite content to view the bottom floors."

"There is much to see everywhere in the house, my lady," the butler assured her. "My name is Horroughs. Please let me know if you need anything. Now, if you will allow me to show you into the house, the dowager countess and Lady Pencully are awaiting you."

While the footmen unloaded the carriage, the three women followed the straight-backed butler into the house and through the large formal entry hall to a large, well-appointed drawing room. Three women sat in the room, and they turned as the party of travelers entered.