Chapter Thirteen
“We’ll be dining en famille,” Gussie had said. “Very informal!” And very informal it was, Nicholas discovered when he arrived. Gussie met him in the doorway to the parlor and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’m so glad you came,” she said, tucking her hand into his arm and pulling him into the room.
The parlor was familiar, a room in crimson and mahogany. The occupants were familiar, too: his nephew Harry was good-naturedly teasing a shaggy half-grown dog that clearly had mongrel origins; Mrs. Westin sat beside the fireplace, conversing with Lucas Washburne; and Lady Isabella sat on one of the sofas, Grace on her lap and Timothy leaning over the back, both children talking excitedly, and a familiar ginger-striped kitten playing with the ruffled hem of her gown.
Harr
