Free A Regency Match by Elizabeth Mansfield Page A

thickened his brain) it had not occurred to him before that the Edgerton’s son would turn out to be the notorious Bertie . He managed to conceal his surprise and to greet the fellow with proper warmth, but he was quite disconcerted nevertheless.
    Then his uncle Julian arrived, jovial and boisterous as usual. He brought with him two cases of what he described as the most magnificent French brandy ever to be smuggled into the country. He found an eager audience in Sir Walter, and the two gentlemen disappeared into the library, not to be heard from again all afternoon except for occasional outbursts of raucous laughter.
    Dennis Stanford’s arrival gave Marcus a momentary lift, for his friend had come alone (as he’d promised) and promptly offered to help in any way that he could. Marcus took him at his word and immediately sent him to squire a group of the ladies on a tour of the gardens and greenhouses.
    But before he had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, another carriage arrived at the door, bearing, of all people, the Carringtons! All six of them! And their Blenheim spaniel! Marcus noted that his mother looked not the least discomposed as she floated out to greet them on her son’s arm, trailing clouds of the finest silk tulle from the billowing sleeves and the enormous flounce of her graceful gown. While the two youngest Carrington offspring, both boys, tumbled from the carriage with noisy hilarity, Lady Wynwood greeted their mother. “Cora, dearest, how lovely to see you. And Horace! Such a pleasant surprise!”
    Horace Carrington squinted at her fuzzily. His eyesight was weak, but his vanity kept him from wearing his spectacles on social occasions. “Surprise?” he murmured in some confusion. “Were we not expected?”
    But Lady Wynwood had turned to greet his eldest daughter. Fanny Carrington, just turned seventeen, stepped from the carriage with the excitement and eagerness natural to a young lady arriving at her very first houseparty. Her large gray eyes shone as she paused on the bottom step of the coach and surveyed her surroundings. “Lady Wynwood, how beautiful everything is!” she breathed.
    Cicely Carrington, her sixteen-year-old sister, whom everyone called Cissy, followed her out of the coach. “Look, Mama,” she said cattishly, “the boys are teasing Shooshi!”
    While Mrs. Carrington turned to reprimand her sons and rescue the plump, white-haired spaniel from their hands, Mr. Carrington fumbled for the pince-nez which hung on a cord around his neck. “We were expected, were we not?” he repeated worriedly.
    Marcus, his mood hovering somewhere between dismay and amusement, waited for his mother’s response with wicked pleasure. But there was no trace of embarrassment in Lady Wynwood’s innocent smile. “Of course you’re most welcome,” she assured Mr. Carrington blithely. “I’m completely delighted that you’ve returned from the continent in time to join us.”
    Mr. Carrington affixed his pince-nez to his nose, as if by clearing his eyesight he would also clear the fog from the bewildering situation. “Returned from the continent ?” he asked, looking from Lady Wynwood to Marcus in confusion. “Whatever gave her that idea?”
    â€œMama had the impression you were fixed abroad until summer,” Marcus explained.
    â€œFixed abroad? We haven’t gone ! Never intended to, while Nappy’s still at large.”
    â€œWell, of course, we did speak of taking a trip next year, if Wellington’s successful,” Mrs. Carrington said to Marcus with a bland smile that revealed her complete lack of awareness that a problem existed.
    But her husband was not so simple-minded. “Good heavens, Charlotte, my dear … does this mean we really are not expected?” he asked, aghast.
    Marcus wanted to laugh out loud. It was just like his mother to muddle the details. It took all his