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Part 3

Finley approached with a tray and stood by Lord Hart expectantly. He glanced over in surprise. There was a small packet on the tray with his name scrawled in familiar handwriting. He picked it up consideringly and tucked it into his jacket pocket without opening it. Three other sets of eyes watched the action in curiosity.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Low asked with the guilelessness of youth.

"Later." He replied shortly, glancing in his father's direction. Low looked over at the glowering old man and nodded suddenly.

"Oh dear. Is it from a lover, Lord Hart?" His step-mother asked with the prying interest of a gossip. He grinned at the way her eyes sparkled and she leaned forward slightly in rapt attention.

"A childhood friend, actually. I spent many holidays with the family." His honesty made her sit back with satisfaction.

"How nice. I loved having my school friends to visit us when I was younger. Will you invite them to join you here?" Her oblivious invitation made him smile in pleasure. His father would hate that, and yet here she was offering his salvation from boredom.

"I hadn't thought to, but of course if you give your blessing I would be pleased to have them." He responded after a moment. His father was shooting a dark look at his wife, which she was patiently ignoring.

"Yes of course. I would love to make their acquaintances." She said quickly before his father was able to break in. He rather thought it was her that was bored and looking for the diversion now. The old man rose suddenly and stormed out. He snickered.

"Hush. I swear now you are just instigating him." Low said to him. He glanced at the girl and she was grinning a little too.

"It is not my fault he is so grumpy. She told me I could." He pointed at her and she giggled at the accusation.

"Margery doesn't know about you two." He grumbled at us.

"Of course I do. I may be young, but I am not blind or stupid." She retorted. "Go on and open your letter. I want to know what it says." All pretention to being a proper, uptight duchess was gone with her excitement in being surrounded with people close to her own age. She leaned forward again in her seat.

"Oh alright. Give me a moment to make sure its contents will not put you both to blushes." He reached in his pocket and cracked the seal on the letter. The looping handwriting made him smile as he read through a few paragraphs quickly, ignoring the stare of his step-mother.

"Well? Go on then. Tell me what it says." She demanded boldly with a grin. He flattened it against his breast and gave her a significant look.

"It is from Trenton and his sister Agatha." He began dramatically. Margery folded her hands and waited expectantly.

"Who are they?" His brother asked, now curious himself.

"Trent was a friend from school. He is a mister only, as his father is in trade. His sister is a lovely girl only a year younger than the two of us. Filthy rich, so I am sure father would approve as far as I am concerned. You two probably would not be normally allowed the acquaintance." He waggled his eyebrows at them.

"I daresay you are right; however, I think I will make an exception." His step-mother announced pertly. That made him chuckle.

"'My dearest Darian... You have just gone and I miss you already.' See that is because he was abroad with me for his own seasoning. I believe his father thought it was the elegant thing to do since I was doing it and sent him along." He explained as he read.

"I would have liked to do that too." Low said mostly to himself.

"I did a tour with my mother. It was quite nice." Marge put in as well.

"He goes on to say that his trip home was uneventful. There is something about his mother getting a new puppy and the drapes on his windows being changed for the third time, as he now prefers the colour green." He went on to summarise the mundane parts of the letter.

"Oh how nice. I do like the colour green myself. Do you think I should change the drapes in my room?" Margery asked them. Low shrugged, not very interested in drapes.

"I wish I could get a puppy. I can't see father agreeing. He barely tolerates the hunting dogs." Low commented.

"What colour are the drapes now?" Derry addressed his step-mother first. She smiled.

"They are a rather pale rose colour. I think they are overwhelmed by all the honey coloured oak furniture." She said to him. He nodded.

"I agree. I think green would be splendid. I will tell Trent that he has inspired you. What kind of dog would you like, Low? Not another spaniel or hound?" He continued. Low brightened at the question.

"No indeed. I want a small dog. Like... like a... terrier?" He suggested. The two other chuckled at his enthusiasm.

"That would be adorable. I think it may have to wait though. Now, the next bit I can't tell you about. It is a bit too personal. The last bit though is talk of how bored he is planning to be despite the entertainments he lists over the next months now that he is home. I think he is showing off a little bit." He grinned at his audience and winked at Margery.

"Well now we simply must have them to visit. Invite them both. I cannot have them being bored." She replied predictably. It was obviously the point of the letter to have one of them visit the other, and Derry was actually glad that he could be the one to extend the invitation this time.

"Indeed, madam. I will write them directly and tell them how their words have moved us." He responded in a teasing voice.

"But what has the sister said? You said it was from both of them." Low says grumpily. Derry realises why the boy looks rather cross now and smiles gently. He holds out the second page to the boy.

"Here. You may read it for yourself. It is mostly thanks for dancing with her at a soiree and an account of her latest diversions. I believe there is a boy to watch for." He winked suggestively as the lad took the sheet and read through it in curiosity.

"Can I read it too?" Marge asked him. He nodded congenially.

"Certainly. She is a dear girl. I am sure you two shall get along famously." He declares. She smiles widely and Low passes the well penned note to her to read after.

"Oh what lovely penmanship. I can hardly believe this was done by a young miss." She breathed. It was true that is was expertly drafted. Nary a smudge or droplet of ink amiss on the snowy white parchment.

"She is a veritable goddess of ladies' achievement, I daresay." He replied with a glance at his brother's grimace.

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