Chapter Two

“George!” Lady Violet Maitland ran out Woldsly Manor’s massive oak doors, ignoring the disapproving mutter of her companion, Miss Euphemia Hope.

Violet only just refrained from rolling her eyes. Euphie was an old pet, a short, apple-round woman with gray hair and mild eyes, but nearly everything Violet did made her mutter.

“Where’ve you been? We expected you days ago and . . .” She skidded to a stop on the gravel courtyard to stare at the man helping her sister from the strange carriage.

Mr. Pye looked up at her approach and nodded, his face as usual set in an expressionless mask. What was he doing traveling with George?

Violet narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hullo, Euphie,” George said.

“Oh, my lady, we’re so happy you’ve arrived,” the companion gasped. “The weather has not been all one could wish for, and we have been quite apprehensive as to your safety.”

George smiled in reply and wrapped her arms around Violet. “Hullo, darling.”

Her sister’s marmalade hair, several shades lighter than Violet’s own exuberantly flaming head, smelled of jasmine and tea, the most comforting scents in the world. Violet felt tears prickle her eyes.

“I’m sorry you were worried, but I don’t think I’m so very late.” George bussed her cheek and stepped away to look at her.

Violet turned hurriedly to inspect the carriage, a rather dilapidated old thing that didn’t look a speck like George’s. “What’re you doing traveling about in that for?”

“Well, there lies a story.” George pulled off her hood. Her coiffure was incredibly bad, even for George. “I’ll tell you over tea. I’m just famished. We had only a few buns at the inn where we got the carriage.” She looked at the steward and asked rather diffidently, “Would you like to join us, Mr. Pye?”

Violet held her breath. Say no. Say no. Say no.

“No, thank you, my lady.” Mr. Pye bowed in a sinister fashion. “If you’ll excuse me, there are some estate matters I should see to.”

Violet expelled her breath in a whoosh of relief.

To her horror, George persisted. “Surely they can wait another half hour or so?” She smiled in her wonderful, wide-mouthed way.

Violet stared at her sister. What was she thinking?

“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Pye replied.

“Oh, very well. I suppose it is why I employ you, after all.” George sounded like a prig, but at least Mr. Pye was no longer coming to tea.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” He bowed again, this time a little stiffly, and walked away.