Annabel stood. “As you wish.”

Perhaps Reginald Spencer’s gratitude would earn her a letter of reference for her next employer.

*

Jasper Warren, the latest Marquess of Ramsbury, held out his hand to yet another guest and shaped his face into a smile. “Wareham, good of you to come.”

The earl’s brow was as sweaty as his palm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Raines has promised a rousing party.”

“Oh, it will be a memorable month.” Jasper discreetly wiped his palm against his trousers and focused on the familiar coach lumbering up the lane. “Raines is in the billiards room enjoying my scotch, I believe.” Scotch, port, madeira—it made no difference if it kept the gentlemen talking and off their guard.

He stood to the side, encouraging Wareham to clear the way for the next guest. The earl did not take the hint.

“Starnes will show you and your valet to your rooms.” Jasper crooked an eyebrow and swept his fingers toward the door. Good Lord, no wonder the man was so horrible at cards.

Without waiting to see if Wareham moved forward, Jasper descended the stairs, waited for the footman to open the door, and stepped forward to offer his hand to the lady inside. For the first time this morning, his smile was genuine. “Welcome, Fi.”

Fiona Allen’s hat was almost as wide as the door of her coach, and its crown was circled with blue silk flowers exactly matching her day dress. The only thing that spoiled her transformation into a respectable young lady was the twinkle in her dark eyes. “Your lordship.”

“I thought I cured you of that years ago,” Jasper scolded her as he would one of his sisters. And, like his sisters, Fiona paid no attention. She hadn’t since the day they’d met, when he was sixteen and she was the only girl who didn’t make calf eyes at him.

“I don’t think one can call a marquess Rabbit in polite company.” Fiona caught the eye of the older woman descending from the carriage with the help of a footman. “Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Linden?”

“Don’t tease, miss,” the older woman scolded gently. She shook out her skirts before curtsying quickly. “Lord Ramsbury.”

Jasper bowed. “Mrs. Linden, it is good to see you again. Welcome to Kennet Hall.” He offered his arm to the lady, knowing it would fluster her, and that the good-natured teasing would amuse Fiona. “I’ve requested that you and Fiona have the rooms overlooking the gardens.”

The woman blushed pink under her hat. “That is too kind, your lordship.”

“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do.” He looked over his shoulder at one of his oldest friends. “I know how difficult it is to keep Fiona in line.”

Jasper was pleased to see Fiona stick out her tongue. Not that it was unusual—she usually flouted the rules of Society. However, almost a year ago, that rebellious streak had left her in a spot from which he feared she would never emerge.

“Would you prefer I escort you to the conservatory, where the other young ladies and their companions are having tea?” he asked.

The remnants of last year’s scandal were evident in Fiona’s slight hesitation. “To our rooms, I think. It’s been a long journey, and we should rest before dinner. Don’t you think, Mrs. Linden?”

The older woman smiled. “As you wish, miss.”

Jasper would resent Linden for the change in his friend’s demeanor, if he didn’t wonder whether she was Fiona’s only female friend. That, and Fiona’s father had decreed that Fiona’s continuation in even limited Society was dependent on Linden’s constant presence.

“You don’t need to show us up, Jasper.” Fiona put her fingers on his arm. “One of your staff can do that while you greet your guests.”

As she spoke, horses’ hooves announced the arrival of another carriage. As luck would have it, his other trusted friend came down the stairs at the same time.

“Kit,” Jasper called. “Please see Fi—Miss Allen and Mrs. Linden to their rooms and ask Starnes to have trays sent up for them.”

“Certainly.” Kit bowed to both women before taking Mrs. Linden from Jasper. “This way, ladies.”

The newest arrival came to a stop as Jasper reached the bottom step and reassembled his smile. The footman handed down a young lady with bright blonde hair, her pink day dress done with just enough embellishment to be tasteful.

“Miss Spencer, welcome to Kennet Hall.” He bent over her lace-gloved hand. “It was good of you to come.”

“Lord Ramsbury.” The girl’s blue eyes widened as she curtsied. “Thank you for your kind invitation.”

Her cheeks matched her dress, and her voice was breathy. She was overwhelmed, and she wasn’t even in the door yet. Jasper suppressed his widening smile. This would be easier than he thought.

He straightened and turned to greet her companion, prepared to give the same bland greeting he’d repeated all afternoon, and stopped. “Miss Pearce?”

The last he’d seen Annabel Pearce, she’d been a guest at his cousin Amelia’s disastrous house party. She’d left under the watchful eye of her chaperone.

“Your lordship.” She curtsied, and the brim of her hat hid her face.

“I didn’t realize you—” He stopped. The gray dress was his first clue that Annabel was not here to support a friend.

She straightened. A blush stained her cheeks, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “I’ve been hired to help Miss Spencer with her Season.”

Of course. Her father, Baron Chilworth, had a reputation for wild speculation and poor choices. At the time of Amelia’s party, he’d suspected those habits were the source of Miss Pearce’s odd rhyme.

There once was a man with a daughter, whom he led like a lamb to the slaughter…

Did she consider employment with Spencer akin to an abattoir?

He dipped his head to her, as he’d done to every companion except Mrs. Linden. “Welcome to Kennet Hall. The other ladies are taking tea in the conservatory.” Gossiping, most likely. Without Fiona in the room, Jasper could only hope the servants repeated what they overheard. “Starnes can show you the way.”

Miss Pearce’s lips flattened into a tense line. Jasper was struck by how similar her situation was to Fiona’s. She would be between two groups—the young ladies she had danced with last Season, and the paid companions who, unaccustomed to her new position, likely would not trust her.

“If you would prefer to rest in your rooms after you morning’s travel, trays can be sent up.”

“I’m so excited, I couldn’t possibly rest.” Elizabeth stormed the steps without a backward glance.

“As you wish, miss.” Miss Pearce inclined her head just enough to acknowledge his offer. “Tea sounds lovely, your lordship. Thank you.”

Jasper watched her go. Her plain dress was in a shade that did little for her coloring, and an equally drab shawl was draped across her elbows. She removed her hat as she entered the house, giving him a glimpse of light brown braids that led to a neat knot at her nape.

But her spine was straight, and her smile was serene as she greeted his new butler.

Kit came down the steps, and his gaze followed Jasper’s. “That’s the last of them.”

“Is everyone settled?” Jasper asked.

“Their things are in their rooms, and the maids and valets are unpacking now.”

“You trust them?”

“As much as we can trust village lads and lasses we hired a week ago.” Kit glanced in his direction. “Your new butler is Stapleton, not Starnes.”

“Stapleton.” Jasper nodded. The man at the door was tall, straight, and fitter than Jasper would have expected of a man his age. “Where did you find him?”