IV

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Grayson and I entered the drawing room as the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Papa stood at the fireplace, glaring into the flames. He lit his pipe and tossed the match into the fire. His gray eyes scanned us briefly, and I dropped a curtsy. Gray bowed slightly at the waist.

"Good evening," my brother greeted cordially. He stood inside the door, his striped trousers creased with precision. He wore a fashionable jacket and floral waistcoat with a white cravat. A ruby glimmered in his neckwear's stickpin. "The pleasant weather puts springs in your step. I expect that is how the season acquired its name."

Charlotte glared at Gray; her crimson lips turned downward. She edged closer to Joel on the settee and rubbed her hand on his upper thigh. My elder brother leaned in to kiss her full on the lips. Papa cleared his throat loudly as their embrace deepened. Joel disentangled himself and leaned against the sofa's back. Lottie turned her dagger-like eyes toward Papa, then lowered her eyelids demurely.

Yates interrupted the awkward moment when he entered with the evening sherry. He placed it on the table near Papa and, bowing at the waist, awaited further instructions.

"That will do for the moment, Yates," Father remarked, dismissing his manservant.

"As you wish," the butler responded decorously. Swiveling neatly, he marched from the room.

"Well, la di da," Lottie muttered, following Yates' retreat with malicious eyes.

Papa's back straightened at the comment, but he held onto any rebuff he might have considered. He puffed on his pipe instead. Charlotte grabbed the decanter and poured sherry into a diamond-cut goblet.

"May your ups and downs only occur between the sheets," my brother's paramour chortled, raising her glass. She drained the contents swiftly and reached for a refill.

Papa stared at Lottie, dumbfounded. He cleared his throat roughly but didn't offer a reprimand. Grayson practically fell into an easy chair, his face turning as crimson as Charlotte's overly plump lips. Impulsively, I marched toward the table and began filling the glasses from the decanter. My hand trembled when I handed Papa his evening libation. I continued pouring the sherry and offered glasses to Joel and Grayson. Before I could fill mine, Lottie shoved her empty glass at me. Our eyes met and held momentarily. Biting my tongue, I silently tipped the decanter, refilling her goblet. Finally, I served myself.

"I am surprised the nursery students are permitted to imbibe," Lottie remarked, draining her second glass. She refilled it hastily.

Grayson and I exchanged glances, our cheeks burning with indignation. We shared the evening toast from the time Papa permitted us to join the family at the dining table. It seemed natural. Joel left the nursery to dine with Papa at age fourteen. When Gray reached that milestone, we were both permitted to join them. Sharing a toast in the drawing room before the meal became a ritual.

"We shan't remain in the nurseries much longer," I responded hotly. "Grayson will attend Oxford during the autumn session. I am—at the current moment—preparing for my London season next spring. We are not quite as young as you imagine."

"Humph," Lottie snorted, dismissing us. She reached for the sherry again. However, Yates reappeared, interrupting her.

"Dinner awaits, Sir," the manservant announced, bowing deeply at the waist.

"Very well, Yates," Papa answered, tapping his pipe's dottle into a porcelain ashtray. With the butler's assistance, he removed his paisley smoking jacket and donned one suitable for dining.

As our father prepared for the evening meal, Lottie leaped to her feet. She swooped from the room, clasping her hand through Joel's crooked elbow. Grayson and I held back, astonished. No one preceded Papa into the dining room. Overnight, age-old traditions disappeared with the arrival of one uncouth woman. I wondered how my elder brother became involved with a floozy. Why had he brought her home following his expulsion? Miss Charlotte Plumb abruptly changed the peaceful dynamics of our domestic Victorian country life.

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