Free The Unknown Ajax by Georgette Heyer

“Yes, my lord. But I fancy that the Major has arrived.” “Bring him in here immediately!” commanded his lordship.
    Chollacombe bowed, and left the room, carefully shutting the door. An indistinguishable murmur of voices penetrated to the saloon, as though an argument had sprang “Wants to change his dress first,” said Claud, explaining the pause, and nodding wisely. “Very understandable. I would myself.”
    “Whippersnapper!” said my lord.
    The door was opened again. “Major Darracott!” announced Chollacombe.
    Chapter 4
    The Major trod resolutely over the threshold, and there stopped, pulled up short by the battery that confronted him. Five pairs of eyes scanned him with varying degrees of astonishment, hostility, and criticism. He looked round, his own, very blue orbs holding a comical expression of dismay, and a deep flush creeping up under his tan. Three of the gentlemen had levelled their quizzing-glasses at him; and one, whom he judged to be his grandfather, was scowling at him from under a beetling brow. For a nerve-racking minute no one spoke, or moved. Surprise was, in fact, responsible for this frozen immobility, but only Richmond’s widening gaze and Claud’s dropped jaw betrayed this.
    The Darracotts were a tall race, but the man who stood on the threshold dwarfed them all. He stood six foot four in his stockinged feet, and he was built on noble lines, with great shoulders, a deep barrel of a chest, and powerful thighs. He was much fairer than his cousins, with tightly curling brown hair, cut rather shorter than was fashionable, and a ruddy complexion. His nose had no aquiline trend: it was rather indeterminate; and this, with his curly locks and his well-opened and childishly blue eyes, gave him an air of innocence at variance with his firm-lipped mouth and decided chin. He looked to be amiable; he was certainly bashful, but for this there was every excuse. He had been ushered into a room occupied by five gentlemen attired in raiment commonly worn only at Court, or at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, and he was himself wearing leathers and top-boots, and a serviceable riding-coat, all of which were splashed with mud.
    “Good God!” muttered Matthew, breaking the silence.
    “So you’ve shown at last, have you?” said Lord Darracott. “You’re devilish late, sir!” “I am a trifle late,” acknowledged the culprit. “I’m sorry for it, but I missed the way, and that delayed me.”
    “Thought as much!” said Claud.
    “Well, don’t stand there like a stock!” said Darracott. “This is your uncle Matthew, and the others are your cousins: Vincent—Claud—Richmond!”
    Considerably unnerved by his reception, the Major took an unwary step forward, and very nearly fell over an unnoticed stool in his path. Vincent said, in Richmond’s ear, not quite under his breath: “The lubber Ajax!”
    If the Major heard him, he gave no sign of having done so. Matthew caught the words, and uttered a short laugh, which he changed, not very convincingly, into a cough. The Major, recovering his balance, advanced towards Lord Darracott, who waved him, slightly impatiently, to his uncle. He turned, half putting out his hand, but Matthew,—not moving from his stand before the empty fireplace, only nodded to him, and said: “How do you do?” The Major made no attempt to shake hands with the rest of the company, but when he had exchanged formal bows with Vincent and Claud, Richmond, whose colour was also considerably heightened, stepped forward, with his hand held out, saying with a little stammer: “How—how do you do, Cousin Hugh?”
    His hand was lost in the Major’s large clasp. “Now, which of my cousins are you?” asked the. Major, smiling kindly down at him.
    “I’m Richmond, sir.”
    “Nay!” protested the Major. “Don’t call me sir! I’d as lief you didn’t call me Cousin Hugh either. I was christened Hugh, but I’ve never answered to anything but Hugo all my life.” Lord Darracott