Amanda Scott by Highland Spirits Read Free Book Online Page B

the passengers now occurred when the coaches bumped over the raised causeways that served as pedestrian crossings at the intersections through which they passed.
    It was dusk by the time the coaches drew to a halt before a large pedimented house on South Street near Tyburn Lane. Built of brown brick with carved stonework and midlevel windows dressed with pediments and balustrades, the house was elegant A pair of stone columns supported the broken pediment over the entrance, which contained an elaborate cartouche displaying a coat of arms. The house faced north and was five bays wide. Wrought-iron railings flanked seven stone steps leading to the entrance and set off the areaway steps from the flagway.
    The countess regarded the house critically for a long moment without moving, then smiled through the open coach window at her husband, who had dismounted and handed his reins to a lackey.
    “Like the looks of it, do you?” he said, strolling up to speak to her.
    “Rothwell and Cousin Maggie chose well, sir,” she said.
    Lady Agnes nodded fervently, leaning forward to say, “I do not mind telling you, Duncan, I had begun to believe I would never be able to think in this city. To imagine, I have dreamed for years of coming to London, and my first impression, with all that clatter and shriek, was that I should never dream again, of anything. But this street is quite peaceful, is it not, and that lane yonder does not seem to bear a great deal of traffic either. Indeed, with all those trees hanging over that brick wall on the other side, it looks more a country lane than anything in a great city.”
    “That street is Tyburn Lane, ma’am,” the earl said, “and that brick wall is the boundary of Hyde Park. You may drive there if you take outriders with you. The park has a reputation for harboring footpads and their ilk, but otherwise it is said to be quite pleasant.” To Chuff, who had also relinquished his horse to a lackey, he said, “I believe Rothwell said that we can hunt in the park, too, lad, if we like.”
    Chuff nodded, smiling at Pinkie. She could not tell what his first impression of London was, or even if he had yet decided what he thought. Chuff generally kept his thoughts to himself unless he felt obliged to reveal them.
    Lady Agnes said, “I do think that one could be quite happy here, once one becomes accustomed—and meets people, of course. We must begin at once to prepare for that happy event, must we not? Surely members of the beau monde will begin to pay calls as soon as it becomes known that we are in residence here.”
    “Aye, they will,” the earl said, opening the door and assisting his wife to the flagway. As she shook out her skirts, trying to smooth the worst of the wrinkles, he performed the same office for his mother while Chuff assisted Pinkie.
    One of the footmen had run up to pound on the front door. Observing him with visible surprise, Lady Agnes said, “Do they not have proper brass knockers here in London, like they do in Edinburgh?”
    The earl chuckled. “They do when the residents are at home, ma’am, but not when they are out of town. Our knocker will go up straightaway, I promise you.”
    The door opened, and a slender middle-aged man in biscuit-colored breeches, a neat dark coat, and a powdered bag wig looked out and smiled when he saw them.
    “Welcome, my lord, welcome,” he said. “Your baggage wagons arrived only an hour ago, but Lord Rothwell warned us to expect your arrival daily after the first of the month, so everything is quite in readiness for you. I am Peasley, sir, George Peasley. I have served at Rothwell London House in the capacity of underbutler for some years now, and his lordship was kind enough to suggest that I might serve as your butler here at Faircourt House. My wife, Bess, has been acting as our housekeeper—pending your arrival and approval, of course.”
    “Aye, I know,” the earl said. “Rothwell suggested the arrangement when he wrote to tell