Indignation rose up for a second. I didn’t like the thought of being flattered and used, or being flirted with as if he really meant it. But then I had to agree that it was more fun than the humdrum life I had been leading recently. Certainly better than doing crossword puzzles at Castle Rannoch or sitting in the subterranean kitchen eating baked beans. As I had said earlier, what had I got to lose?

Chapter 8

Rannoch House
Saturday, April 23, 1932

I was about to go upstairs to take off my posh frock, as Darcy called it, when I noticed some letters were stuck in the box. Hardly anybody knew I was in town yet so letters were a novelty. There were two of them. I recognized my sister-in-law’s writing on one of the envelopes, and the Glen Garry and Rannoch crest (two eagles, trying to disembowel each other over a craggy mountaintop), so I opened the other one first. It was the predicted invitation. Lady Mountjoy would be so delighted if Lady Georgiana could join them at their country estate for a house party and a masked fancy dress ball.

There were a couple of postscripts. The first a formal one: Please bring fancy dress costumes with you as there is nowhere in the neighborhood that rents out such things.

And the second, less formal: Imogen will be so delighted to see you again.

Imogen Mountjoy was among the dullest, stodgiest girls in the world. She and I had scarcely exchanged more than two words during our season, and those were both about hunting, so I truthfully couldn’t imagine her being delighted at the thought of seeing me, but it was a kind gesture and I resolved to RSVP as soon as I had read the missive from Fig.

Dear Georgiana, Binky has just informed me that he has to pop up to town on Monday on a matter of urgent and unforeseen business. With the world in its current sorry state and everybody being asked to economize, I thought it seemed silly and wasteful to go to the expense of sending staff in an advance party to open up the house when you are already there. Since you are living “grace and favor” as it were, I hope it won’t be too much to ask to have Binky’s bedroom and study aired out for him, and maybe just the little morning room for him to read the newspapers. (You have ordered the Times, I hope.) I’m sure he’ll be dining at his club so you don’t have to worry too much about the food side of things. I expect the house will be quite chilly. Maybe you could have a fire going in Binky’s bedroom on the day he arrives. Oh, and a hot water bottle in his bed too. Your loving sister-in-law, Hilda

She always was known for her stuffy formality. Nobody ever called her by her real name. And I could see why. A more ridiculous name for a duchess I have never heard. If I had been called Hilda, I would have drowned myself in the nursery bathtub rather than grow up saddled with such a burden.