Alexandra

Chapter Fifty

"Good morning, my lady." Peggy bustled into the bedroom and threw open the drapes. "It's nine o'clock, and I brought your breakfast." She placed a tray on the bed. "Shall I have the carriage brought round for your visit today?"

Nine o'clock? Alexandra blinked in the harsh light, wondering where the night had gone while at the same time happy those long, uncomfortable, restless hours were over. Sitting up against the pillows, she took a slow, bracing sip of hot tea. "I wish to ride again today. The sooner I complete this final interview, the happier my husband will be."

"I've been thinking, my lady. Perhaps, since you enjoy riding, it may be time for me to learn."

"That's a fine idea." Alexandra spread jam on her toast, checking first to make certain it was cherry. "We shall arrange for a groom to give you lessons."

"I meant today. I believe I should start riding with you today."

"Oh, I don't think so." Picturing middle-aged Peggy mounting a horse for the first time, Alexandra hid a smile behind her teacup. "I shall be in quite a hurry today, and you'll need a few lessons before you go galloping off. I believe I shall just take Ernest with me and get this done."

She'd quite enjoyed riding with Ernest yesterday. Unlike Peggy, who talked her ear off, Ernest was quiet. He never asked to come in during her interviews, nor did he ask what happened afterward. He allowed her time to think.

Peggy scowled, clearly unhappy that she would be left behind again. As she helped her mistress into a riding habit, Alexandra did her best to disregard the maid's bad mood. Peggy had been so pleasant and accommodating for the most part—even going to the trouble of making the list—and it was good of her to want to learn to ride.

When Alexandra was dressed and coiffed, she handed Peggy her gorgeous new silver basket, waiting for a reaction.

There was none. "Yes, my lady?"

"Please ask Mrs. Pawley to fill this with the rest of my sugar cakes. I shall meet you in the main parlor."

"As you wish," Peggy said coldly and took herself off.

Alexandra heaved a sigh as she started downstairs. If the woman was going to sulk whenever things failed to go her way, perhaps she'd be happier with a different lady's maid, after all.

When she entered the main parlor—or rather, tried to—her mouth dropped open. "What's this?"

Two muscular strangers were blocking the door as they maneuvered a large object through it.

An excessively large object.

"A pianoforte," one of them said in answer to her question.

"I can see that." She hurried around to the front and read the name above the keyboard. "Erard," she breathed in wonder, running her hand over the shining, dark mahogany. Sebastien Erard was known to build the very best pianofortes—why, it was said that Beethoven himself owned one. "And it's six octaves."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but we need you to move."

"Right. Of course." She looked toward three footmen who were inside the room rearranging the furniture. "Might any of you know where Lord Hawkridge is at the moment?"

"The vineyard, I believe." One of the Johns hefted a small table onto his shoulder. "Or so I heard him tell his valet before he left this morning."

"Thank you," she said and turned away—then turned back. "Um...where is the vineyard?" Hopefully it wasn't as far from the house as Griffin's. "Will I need a horse?"