Miss Thornhill, apparently, thought so too.
“Can the doctors do nothing for your megrims?” Miss Thornhill asked, after a pause.
“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “Nothing beyond the usual – keeping noise to a minimum, and resting in a cool, dark room whenever the attacks come. It’s really nothing to worry about, Miss Thornhill.”
The implication was quite clear. Miss Thornhill took the hint and changed the subject.
“I’m having a little al-fresco luncheon later today,” Beatrice spoke up. “I’ve invited a few people. Do come, Arthur.”
Arthur forced himself to smile at his mother. The prospect of a lunch with other guests, al-fresco or otherwise, made him feel vaguely sick. He wanted his calm, dark study, with his books and his work to keep him entertained.
“Of course I’ll come.” He responded lightly. There wasn’t much else to say, really.
***
Beatrice had been true to her word, and only a few guests arrived. Tables and chairs were set up on the terrace, and there was talk of spreading some blankets on the lawn for a picnic. After a long and boring conversation about the dampness of the earth and possibly catching a chill, this idea was abandoned, but filed away for use at a future date.
Arthur was bored already.
He’d chosen a long wooden bench in the corner of the terrace, away from the others.
“You seem a little tense, Lord Lanwood.”
The sound of Miss Thornhill’s voice only served to make him tense up further. She took a seat on the bench beside him, spreading out her skirts, and flashed a smile.
Heat flared briefly in Arthur’s chest.
“I am surprised you are speaking to me, Miss Thornhill, after I offended you so entirely only yesterday.”
She chuckled. “I am not very good at holding grudges, Lord Lanwood. I forget things entirely too quickly. It takes a remarkable amount of energy to hold onto resentment, and I prefer to direct my energy to other things.”
“Like botany?”
“Like botany,” she confirmed. She smiled at him again, and this time, Arthur risked a smile back.
He hadn’t offended her. They’d had an inauspicious start, but she seemed inclined to forget. His scar shouldn’t bother her, after all.
Perhaps they could part ways as friends. Heaven knew Arthur needed all the friends he could get.
“Again, I am sorry about the business with the card tables.”
She shook her head. “Please, think no more of it. It was clear that Lord Vincent’s antics set off your megrims. He should be ashamed. I was all set to throw him out by his ears, but Lucy said that it wouldn’t be the thing for us to do.”
“She’s right, I’m afraid,” Arthur admitted. “Lord Vincent is not a popular man – that is, he is popular in all the wrong places. You know how stringent Society can be on who is excluded and who must be included.”
“Yes, it’s nonsensical.”
“Did you have an opportunity to read that book from the library, yet?”
She brightened a little, glancing at him almost questioningly, as if not sure if he truly meant to ask that question.
“I read a little, but…”
She trailed off, gaze slipping over his shoulder. Arthur turned to look, and his heart sank at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill bearing down on them.
“Well, well, this will be our first proper conversation together, Lord Lanwood!” Mrs. Thornhill greeted, gesturing for Miss Thornhill to move aside and slotting herself between her daughter and Arthur. There was really not room for three on the bench, but it didn’t seem to bother Mrs. Thornhill. Mr. Thornhill hovered nervously in front of them, hands tucked tightly behind his back.
“Yes, I do apologise,” Arthur managed hesitantly. He was conscious of a pooling feeling of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to talk to Miss Thornhill, and that was a dangerous place to begin.
