Heirs and Graces by Rhys Bowen

Author:Rhys Bowen [Bowen, Rhys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101624920
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-08-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The rest of the family was already seated around the food and near the fire. The old sisters were munching away merrily as if this was any other morning and they hadn’t just lost their nephew.

The twins were working their way through a plate of biscuits. Sissy sat by the fire, watching, hoping that someone would pass her something, I suspect, but too polite to ask. There was no sign of the Starlings.

Virginia was the first to notice us. “Why, it’s my favorite handsome man come back to see me,” she said, holding out her hand to Darcy. “How good of you to come in our hour of need.”

Darcy did as expected and went over to kiss the extended hand. Then he kissed that of Princess Charlotte with an attractive little Continental bow. “Your Highness,” he murmured.

“Such perfect manners,” she murmured, fluttering eyelashes at him. It’s that Irish blarney coming out, I thought. I was just pouring coffee for the new arrivals when Edwina entered the room.

“Mr. O’Mara—you’ve come. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. You’ve heard our terrible news, of course. My grandson will need your guidance in the coming days.” She stopped, having just noticed Belinda, and raised her lorgnette up to examine her.

“And who have we here?” she asked.

“Your Grace, this is my friend Belinda Warburton-Stoke,” I said. “She motored down with Mr. O’Mara, and brought me some things I’d left behind in London.”

“Warburton-Stoke?” Edwina asked. “Hampshire family?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Belinda said.

“I believe we have a cousin who married a Warburton-Stoke, don’t we, Charlotte?”

“Primrose Haversham, wasn’t it?” Charlotte and Virginia looked at each other for confirmation.

“I have a great-aunt Primrose,” Belinda said.

They smiled and nodded. “Then we must be related. How delightful. How I wish that you had arrived at a happier moment.” Belinda had undergone the usual ordeal by fire of the aristocracy. Those time-honored questions. Who are your family? Do we know them? Are we related to them? In other words, is she one of us and does she belong here? Now that a relationship had been proven, she was accepted.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear the news about your son,” Belinda said.

“Belinda was a friend of Cedric,” I said.

Belinda blushed but said nothing.

“My son, friends with a young woman? How extraordinary,” Edwina said. “I wish he’d brought you down here, my dear. Rather than those dubious young men.”

“Belinda’s a fashion designer,” I explained. “She has worked with Chanel.”

“Ah, so that explains it.” Edwina nodded. “Cedric mentioned he had found a brilliant costume designer for his new play. So that was you, was it?”

“I’m not sure which play he was talking about,” Belinda said modestly, eyes focused on the pile of sandwiches. “He had irons in so many fires, didn’t he?”

“He did. And none of them in the right fires, if you want my opinion,” Edwina said. “But you are more than welcome here, and I’m sure Cedric’s death has shocked you as much as the rest of us.

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