Free The Viscount's Kiss by Margaret Moore

ours are equally baffling to them. The handkerchief, for instance. They don’t understand why one would wish to collect—”
    â€œBromwell, have the goodness not to discuss bodily functions in mixed company!” his father ordered.
    â€œI only wished to point out that—”
    â€œNever mind that now,” his father dismissed. He gestured grandly toward his left and beamed at Nell. “Here is Granshire Hall.”
    Nell looked out the window to see the drive curve in frontof an imposing mansion of gray stone. It was indeed built in the latest style, with several tall windows and three stories. It had, she guessed, at least thirty bedchambers and who could say how many rooms on the main floor. There was also likely an army of servants to clean and maintain it.
    â€œWhat do you think of it, my lady?” the earl asked proudly.
    She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but instead answered his question. “It’s very lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more splendid home.”
    The earl fairly purred with satisfaction as the coach rolled to a stop and a footman jumped down to open the door. Lord Bromwell got out first and extended his hand to help her.
    The earl got down beside her, then, brushing aside his son, took her arm and led her into the magnificent country house. She managed a quick glance over her shoulder, to see the viscount speaking to the coachman as if he wasn’t a bit disturbed by his father’s behavior.
    He was, she supposed, used to such treatment.
    Inside the hall, she discovered more evidence that the earl’s boasts had not been empty bragging. The builders had used beautiful materials—Italian marble on the floors, and mahogany inlaid with lighter oak in the grand entrance hall and staircase. Ornate plasterwork on the ceiling surrounded an elaborate painting of a classical scene that quite took her breath away. She’d never seen so many half naked, fighting men depicted anywhere.
    â€œThe Battle of Thermopylae,” Lord Bromwell explained as he came up behind her. “My father admires the Spartans, although you’d never know it from his hall.”
    â€œFallingbrook!” the earl bellowed just as a stout man who had to be the butler came to stand almost at his elbow.
    â€œWelcome home, my lord,” the butler said, after nodding a greeting at Lord Bromwell and giving him a grin that disappeared the instant the earl turned to him.
    â€œSee to my son’s baggage, Fallingbrook, and that of our guest, Lady Eleanor Springford, the daughter of the Duke of Wymerton. Tell Mrs. Fallingbrook her ladyship will be staying and requires the services of a maid, her own having absconded with most of her baggage.”
    The middle-aged butler’s sandy brows rose. “Indeed, my lord?”
    â€œIndeed. Servants are going to the dogs in this country, just like the government.” Lord Granshire turned to Nell and was just as suddenly all sweetness and light. “Fallingbrook will show you to your room.”
    He turned back to the butler. “The green room for Lady Eleanor. Where’s the countess?”
    â€œIn her sitting room, my lord. She asked that Lord Bromwell come up as soon as possible.”
    The younger man nodded and bowed to Nell and his father before trotting up the staircase and disappearing from view.
    Nell tried not to feel abandoned, or afraid. After all, thanks to her education, she need have no fear she wouldn’t know how to conduct herself in a stately home or among the nobility.
    â€œIf her ladyship will follow me,” the butler said, “I’ll take you to the green room.”
    â€œShe’ll need clothes, Fallingbrook,” the earl called out as he hurried up the stairs ahead of her. “Tell your wife to find her something in my wife’s dressing room. The countess has scads of gowns she never wears.”
    â€œAs you wish, my lord. Please, follow