Chapter 22
Lenora. Goodness, child, I’ve never seen you so inattentive.”
Lenora started, her cheeks warming as she glanced at Lady Tesh. Her face grew hotter when she spied the salver piled high with letters that graced the low table between them. The butler must have just brought it in; she’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard him enter. “I’m sorry, Gran.”
Margery lowered her embroidery to her lap. The worry in her eyes had been growing stronger since breakfast. “You’ve been incredibly distracted all morning. Perhaps you should return to bed, dear. No one would begrudge you more rest after your ordeal.”
Which was the exact opposite of what she should do to calm her roiling thoughts. She could imagine the state of her mind if she went back to bed, curling up in sheets that still carried Peter’s scent, remembering what he had done to her mere hours ago. How he had brought her such pleasure, made her feel much more than she had ever thought to.
And how, despite knowing better, she had allowed him into her heart. Frustration and dismay reared up, that she could be so careless. But despite all that, she couldn’t regret what they’d shared.
She cleared her throat, trying to control thoughts that were quickly veering off course again. She had to put him from her mind as best as she was able. For, as he’d warned her, he was leaving at the end of his month.
And she could not handle the heartbreak.
“No, I’d much rather stay here with you.” She looked down at the slim volume in her hands. She had forgotten she was even trying to read the thing. “Though,” she continued wryly, “perhaps I’d better give up on this book. It’s not holding my interest at all.”
Just then the sound of footsteps sounded in the hall, accompanied by masculine voices. Lenora turned her attention to the sitting room door, her heart skipping a beat as Peter’s deep baritone stood out from the others. Anticipation ran along her skin, and she found herself straightening, waiting for the moment he strode into view.
Suddenly he was there, and the breath left her.This is not good, a small voice whispered. She could not hope to survive his leaving if she could not control her reaction to him. Yet that did nothing to stop the smile of pleasure from lifting her lips, from the greeting that formed on her tongue.
That greeting died a quick death when she caught sight of the stormy look on his face. But she had no time to process what it might mean. In the next instant, a second man entered behind him. It was not Mr. Nesbitt, however, though a person still known to her.
“Lord Redburn!”
“You know this man?”
Lenora pulled back at the darkness in Peter’s voice. “Yes, we became acquainted in London.” She smiled at the other man. “It’s a pleasure to see you here on the Isle, my lord.”
The earl bowed low, flashing her the smile he was renowned for, the one that had set half the female hearts in London to fluttering. “My dear Miss Hartley. You are even more beautiful, if that is at all possible. And Mrs. Kitteridge,” he continued, turning to bow Margery’s way, “so wonderful to see you.”
Margery shot Lenora a confused look before she turned a kind smile on the man. “You as well, my lord. But I don’t think you’re acquainted with my grandmother.”
As Margery made the necessary introductions, Lenora snuck a glance at Peter. He wasn’t looking at her, which she supposed shouldn’t bother her as it did. But it was thewayhe wasn’t looking at her that was troubling. As if he was trying with all his might to ignore her very presence in the room. Instead his narrowed gaze was fastened to Lord Redburn, as if the very devil were in his midst.
Which was ridiculous. Peter had been in America half his life and couldn’t know Lord Redburn. And anyway, the young earl was one of the nicest men she had ever met.
What he was doing in Lady Tesh’s sitting room, however, was a mystery. Almost as much as Peter’s peculiar reaction.
“Lenora,” Lady Tesh said, eyeing Lord Redburn with interest, “why don’t you call for a tea tray.”
“Certainly.” She made her way to the bell pull, trying to catch Peter’s eye as she did so. Still the dratted man wouldn’t look at her. By the time she rejoined the rest of the group, Lady Tesh was ordering everyone into seats. Lenora took hers, trying not to show her hurt when Peter pointedly ignored his great-aunt’s suggestion and positioned himself as far from her as he was able to.
“Lord Redburn,” Lady Tesh said, her fingers running through the mop that topped Freya’s frazzled head, “what brings you to the Isle?”
Ignoring the frustrating man across from her, Lenora focused on the earl. Finally one mystery would be solved.
But to her further confusion, he looked her way and smiled. “Oh, I’m sure Miss Hartley should be the one to tell you, my lady.”
Frowning, Lenora looked to Margery, who appeared even further in the dark than she did. “I’m sorry, Lord Redburn, but I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to.”
The man’s smile faltered. “Have you not received word from your father?”
“I have not heard from him since I arrived.”
“Oh, dear.” Lord Redburn gave a weak chuckle, his expression turning apologetic. “This is an unfortunate turn of events. He assured me he would write with alacrity, that his letter would prepare you before my arrival.”
A roaring started up in Lenora’s ears. She gripped the arms of her chair with suddenly numb fingers. She could imagine only one reason why her father should write to her with haste, only one reason why Lord Redburn was in Lady Tesh’s drawing room.
