Page 11
“How reassuring.”
“He has been known to lose correspondence whilst holding it.”
Baines placed a hand over his heart. “You astonish me. Colonel Renforth assured me I was coming to one of the best-managed houses in the north.”
“My uncle owns the house; he does not manage it.”
Something changed briefly in Baines’ expression. It was no more than a flicker, quickly hidden by amusement.
“I begin to comprehend Blackthorn,” he said.
“You have been here two hours.”
“I am an unusually rapid student.”
She turned towards the study without inviting him to follow, being quite certain a man of Major Baines’ confidence required very little encouragement to go anywhere at all. His footsteps sounded behind her almost immediately.
The study lay at the rear of the house, beyond the library and overlooking the western lawn, where the rain had reduced the gravel paths to shining ribbons between sodden stretches of grass. Judith opened the door without knocking.
Unlike the grander rooms at Blackthorn, the study had surrendered long ago to Sir Lionel’s habits. A Turkish carpet disappeared beneath precarious stacks of newspapers, estate maps curled at the edges upon a long side table, and two deep leather chairs faced a fireplace crowded with fishing rods, a brass warming pan, and a marble bust of Cicero wearing somebody’s spectacles.
Her uncle was seated behind his desk with a newspaper spread before him, spectacles perched low upon his nose and a half-eaten slice of toast resting perilously near a document bearing the seal of the Lord Lieutenant.
Sir Lionel was nearing sixty, a tall man gone slightly loose about the middle, with thinning auburn hair faded towards grey and a ruddy, pleasant face. His blue eyes remained unexpectedly keen beneath untidy brows, though his clothes and papers shared a tendency never to remain precisely where they had been put.
Judith crossed the room and removed the toast.
Sir Lionel looked up. “I was eating that.”
“You were endangering government correspondence with marmalade.”
A soft sound behind her betrayed Major Baines’ amusement.
Sir Lionel brightened as though he had only just discovered him.
“Major Baines! There you are. Come in, come in. Renforth wrote that you might be persuaded north, though I confess I did not expect you quite so soon.”
“I was given to understand the border might revolt without me, sir.”
Sir Lionel waved him towards a chair. “The border has been revolting without assistance for centuries. It is one of its charms.”
“Uncle,” Judith said quickly.
“What?”
“You cannot say such things with Lady Dunsmore under your roof.”
“Why not?”
“Because she will challenge you to defend the honour of Scotland before dinner, and I would be obliged to rearrange seating.”
Sir Lionel appeared to consider this. “Very well. Sit down, Baines.”
Judith moved towards the door.
“Stay, Judy.”
Her hand paused upon the handle. Sir Lionel rarely involved her directly in conversations with men connected to government, though he had very few objections to discussing those same conversations with her afterwards, particularly if he wanted help deciding what they meant.
