Thea didn’t linger over her meal but excused herself to see to Lady Sophie. Her glance had not come his way since he’d pulled out her chair.
Neal rose from the table, excusing himself, and caught up with her in the hall.
“Mrs. Martin,” he said, aware that anyone could be listening. “Is there anything I can do for Lady Sophie?”
She shook her head. “No, there isn’t, and I assure you I believe Lady Sophie will be fine,although it is quite worrisome.” She paused. “You are sorry she won’t be able to ride with you this morning?”
There was an edge to her voice, a sign of a sharper question being asked—and Neal realized that if he answered honestly, if he really didn’t have a concern about Lady Sophie, that it was Thea who drew his notice, no good could come of it. His sister Margaret’s worst fears would be realized, as would his own. “Of course,” he responded, shrugging as he did so to take any import from his concern.
“Then it is Lady Sophie you have chosen?” she asked.
Neal took a step back. “I’ve not made a decision.”
“But you singled her out quite often yesterday.”
“I was talking to her. She’s pleasant.”
“Is she the one, my lord?”
Neal frowned, not liking the way she worded the question. “I haven’t focused on any ‘one.’ Did you not tell me to become acquainted with the young women?”
“I did.”
“Then I was becoming acquainted with her.” He did not like the direction of this conversation. Thea was too eager to see him matched. Perhapshe was wrong in his assumption that deeper emotions were in play. “I have not made up my mind one way or the other.”
“I gained the impression you had, my lord,” she answered. “I was mistaken.”
“Thea, don’t go stiff on me,” Neal said, annoyed at her cool facade. “This is devilish hard. I’ve never been watched so much as I am now. Lady Sophie was very safe to talk to. She’s—” He paused for the right word. “Uncomplicated. If an impression has formed that I have made up my mind, then I’m sorry for it. It’s not true.”
If he’d thought his reasoning would placate her, he was wrong. If anything, the gleam in her eyes hardened and the furrows along her brow deepened. However, voices in the breakfast room warned that they were about to be interrupted.
“I appreciate knowing where you stand, my lord,” she said and started to walk away.
He caught her arm, the action forcing her to look at him. “What do you want from me?” he demanded, his voice low. “One moment you befriend me and in the next you are distant and barely polite.”
“And what do you expect of me, my lord?”
He frowned, uncertain of her meaning.
“You don’t know, do you?” she pointed out, and on that cryptic remark she turned and he had to let her go.
Within minutes, Neal found himself surrounded by the other guests. Lady Lila pulled his arm one way, Lady Cynthia another, and in the end, he escaped to his room, much to Sir James’s amusement.
An hour later, he found himself riding along on the most frivolous of ventures, a picnic—but his thoughts were not far from Thea.
The doctor said that Lady Sophie was suffering a stomach disorder of some sort.
“I wonder what good doctors truly are,” Mirabel grumbled. “They always state the obvious.” They, along with Lady Sophie’s mother, Lady Carpsley, had left the patient upstairs sleeping off the effects of her illness.
“Yes, well, at least she isn’t in danger of imminent demise,” Thea said. “She had me worried last night.”
“I’m sorry she missed the picnic,” Lady Carpsley said. “I had my husband go with the group so we would receive a full report. I told Sophie she’d best be on her feet and in her prettiest frock by this evening.”
“She may still not be feeling well,” Thea suggested.
Lady Carpsley bristled at the suggestion. “She can’t be abed when Lyon returns. I’ll see that she is up. We came here to win him, and we shall.”
“Are you so certain he is smitten?” Mirabel said, asking the question Thea hadn’t dared voice. “Men have an amazing ability to appear interested when they are not.”
