Free Wicked and Wonderful by Valerie King Page B

tea on the table at her elbow and carefully removed her bonnet. She patted her blond curls, even working to fix one that had become twisted from its long imprisonment under her bonnet. Of his two sisters, Amy was more in Kelthorne's likeness, sharing with him the color of her hair and the blue of his eyes.
    “How could she not?” Amy said, looking about her and picking up her cup and saucer once more. “And the companion yellow is just soft enough not to be too jarring to the nerves.”
    The drawing room of Portislow Castle was a well-lit chamber overlooking a narrow valley that ran between the hill upon which the castle was perched. Opposite could be seen a series of hills that ran from east to west meeting the Bristol Channel not a mile distant.
    Initially, he had taken little interest in changing the house, but his sisters had been right to give him a push. After his uncle had been laid to rest in the family vault, Kelthorne had taken a hard look around. The rooms had been shabby with age and the old brocades—so popular a half century past—had grown threadbare. Some of the rooms had suffered from mildew and more than one piece of furniture had been damaged from the excessive dripping of cheap tallow candles. Nothing but the finest beeswax was present now and his housekeeper, given permission to hire an appropriate number of servants for the size of the house, had set even the darkest corners to glowing with her zeal and expertise.
    He moved to the window that overlooked the vale. In the distance, to the west, he saw the camp, probably soggy from the earlier drenching. The tents, however, were now rippling happily in a fine breeze. He could even see Mrs. Marnhull hanging out laundry.
    Suddenly, he wished he was there and not in his refined drawing room, awaiting the arrival of his sisters’ chosen one. Irrationally, he disliked her already—Miss Currivard of the spice trade. He disliked that he must marry. He did not require an heiress, for he had a very comfortable nine thousand a year. He was a little surprised to think that his sisters had become so grossly avaricious on his behalf.
    “I am confused on one point,” Kelthorne said, turning back to them. “How is it you arrived before noon? You cannot have traveled directly from Bath.”
    “Indeed not,” Amy said. “We have made a new acquaintance if you must know. The Marquess of Stolford has purchased a house in Bath and is now quite accepted in the first circles. We broke our journey at his home which is but a short drive from Portislow.”
    “Good God,” he said. “The Marquess of Stolford? You account him a proper acquaintance? How is that possible when he has one of the worst reputations in all of England?”
    Mary shrugged. “‘Tis all forgot, He has been redeeming himself in polite society, at least in Bath, by making very great contributions to our local charities and has promised to provide new draperies for the assembly rooms.”
    When footsteps were heard on the stairs, indeed, a profound trampling of feet, it appeared that the remainder of the Bath party had arrived all at once. Any further questions either he or Laurence had concerning Miss Currivard must now wait.
    Kelthorne turned to await his doom. Would that he could fly from the chamber down to the camp and settle his gaze on the beautiful Judith and, instead of doing the pretty in his drawing room, envelope his mind in scheme after scheme of seducing her.
    The first to cross the threshold was Lord Radsbury. He was a vibrant man who crossed to him immediately, his hand outstretched, “How do you go on, Kelthorne? Damn, but am I glad to see you ensconced here. Portislow has been in need of you these thirty years and more.”
    “Hallo, Radsbury” he shook his hand warmly. “I am happy to hear you say as much.”
    Lord Radsbury turned and waved his arm in the direction of the doorway. As if on cue, two ladies appeared on the threshold. “But let me make the introductions. Miss