Bramble Hall was a solid stone house, a manor more than a mansion, but of pleasing proportions and set in gardens that were well tended even if not extensive. The interior too was handsome, Ben soon discovered, though the hall was paneled in dark wood and the sitting room into which they were shown was scarcely any lighter, since the dark wine velvet curtains were more than half drawn over the windows. The furniture was old and heavy and predominantly a dark brown. Dark-toned landscape paintings hung on the papered walls.
The ladies rose to their feet as the butler announced their visitors. They both, of course, wore black dresses that covered them from neck to wrists to ankles. Lady Matilda was also wearing a black lacy cap over her fair hair, tied in a neat black bow beneath her chin. Ben wondered uncharitably that she had not dyed her hair black.
Mrs. McKay’s head was uncovered. Her very dark, glossy hair was styled in a tight coronet of braids about the crown of her head, the rest combed smooth, without a suggestion of a curl or ringlet to soften the severity. Her eyes were very dark too and large and long-lashed, her nose straight, her mouth generous and full-lipped, her skin dark-toned. She almost undoubtedly had some foreign blood in her veins, though he could not place her origin. Spain? Italy? Greece?
Her dress was of some heavy, rather stiff fabric and was ill-fitting and unbecoming. Nevertheless, it could not hide the fact, as her cloak had done on both previous occasions he had seen her, that she was generously curved and voluptuous of figure. She had the height to carry it too.
He had expected her to be ugly. She had looked ugly through her veil. She was, to the contrary, utterly, stunningly beautiful. And younger than he had estimated.
His impression of both ladies was gathered in a moment. Fortunately, he was prevented from staring overlong by the infernal hound, which looked every bit as ugly now as he had in the meadow a few days ago. He was prancing about them in the sort of orgy of undiscipline one might expect of an untrained puppy but not of a grown dog that lived inside the house. He seemed undecided whether to be ecstatic that they had come to visit or offended that they had dared trespass upon his domain. However, he seemed altogether willing to give them the benefit of the doubt if they showed the slightest tendency to play with him.
Beatrice laughed and patted his head. “What a lovely welcome,” she said.
“Hush, dog,” Lady Matilda commanded—to no effect. “Samantha, do have him removed.”
“Sit, Tramp,” Mrs. McKay said, “or you are going to have to be banished to outer darkness.”
The dog did not sit, but he did stop his prancing to look up at his mistress, panting, tongue lolling, and then he padded off to plop himself down in the shaft of daylight that beamed through the narrow gap in the curtains, his ears cocked lest he miss someone offering further entertainment.
Wretched hound. Without him, Ben might well have cleared that hedge and ridden back to Robland without even realizing that he had frightened the devil out of a lady and narrowly missed killing her. He would not even have known that an apology was in order. And he would have glanced at those two black-shrouded females in church with absolutely no wish whatsoever of making their acquaintance.
“Lady Gramley,” Mrs. McKay said, stepping forward to offer a hand to her guest, “I do beg your pardon for Tramp’s bad manners. How kind of you to call upon us. You were not very well the last time you did so, I recall. I was touched that you came at all. I do hope you have recovered your health. We have been very dull with only each other for company, have we not, Matilda?”
She turned to Ben after Bea had assured her that she had made a full recovery from her stubborn chill. Mrs. McKay’s expression changed imperceptibly from warmly welcoming to coolly gracious as she shook his hand too.
“Sir Benedict,” she said, “it was good of you to accompany your sister. Do have a seat.”
She glanced at his canes but did not try to steer him to a chair, he was relieved to discover. Some people did.
A polite conversation ensued before a tea tray was brought in. Mrs. McKay poured, and her sister-in-law carried the tea and a plate of sweet biscuits to their guests. The dog came and snuffled first at Beatrice and then at Ben. He seemed to prefer the latter, even though Bea patted his head again and Ben most decidedly did not. He plopped down at Ben’s feet and rested his chin on one of Ben’s boots.
The animal must be as thick as a plank. Had not Bea said he knew who liked him?
“Samantha,” Lady Matilda said, “do call a servant to remove that dog. He really ought not to be allowed to roam at will, especially when you are entertaining visitors. You know my thoughts on the matter.”
He must be the ugliest dog in creation, and Ben had certainly not taken kindly to his decision to favor him with his company. Yet when it came to a choice between a battle-ax of a woman—yes, he had decided, Bea had hit upon quite the right description of Lady Matilda McKay—on the one hand and a gangly, drooling, undisciplined, undiscerning dog on the other, the decision was not even difficult.
“If the dog—Tramp, is it?—is no bother to Mrs. McKay,” he said, “he certainly is not to me, Lady Matilda. I beg you to allow him to remain where he is.”
Mrs. McKay shot him a glance that defied interpretation. Suspicion? Resentment? Reproach? It was surely not gratitude.
Quinn, Ben’s valet, would probably be polishing dog drool off his boot tonight and not looking too happy about it.
“He appeared on my doorstep two years ago,” Mrs. McKay explained, “a determined, decrepit vagabond who would not go away even after I had fed him. My husband said, quite rightly, I suppose, that he would not go away because I had fed him. But how could I not have done? His long legs were like bent sticks, his ribs were all quite visible, his coat was dull and tufted, and he had such a look of longing and hope in his eyes that … Well, I would have had to be made of stone to turn him away. He lived on the doorstep for a while. How he got from there into the house and became master of all he surveyed I do not know, but he did.”