Page 9 of Mistress of Misfortune

She watched him stand and walk over to the window. “You cannot know what you are missing, sir. I did not exaggerate about the wealth of unattached young ladies of good family around Renwick. In fact, we’ve become rather notorious for producing quite so many. At our assemblies there are never enough gentlemen to serve as dancing partners.”

“Then you should import some younger men.” He folded his hands behind him and gazed out into the rain. “I am too old for such frivolities now.”

“I think not.” When he eyed her, Meredith lifted her hands. “Really, Colonel, you are hardly ancient. A man of the world such as yourself would be held in very high regard by our ladies. Of course, they would have to first actually regard you, which they cannot do if you avoid their company.”

“I have little experience in society,” Thorne admitted. “In the Army there is not much opportunity for any of the decent sort. My fellow officers provided companionship, but soldiers are not inclined to play whist or chat about the temperature over tea.”

Meredith sensed his excuses more polite than truthful. But what would make him wish to avoid society all together? Perhaps his military service had done something to make him feel estranged, and that was why he never cared to speak of it.

“We are not always playing cards, and we sometimes do talk about things other than the weather.” She took a sip from her tea cup before she asked, “How long were you away from England?”

“Almost fourteen years. Too long to make myself agreeable to others, I should think.” He glanced at her, and again she saw his weariness. “You would not understand.”

“Before I crashed my rig on your road. I fell down our stairs, was attacked by a wild dog, and nearly set fire to my skirts. That was just this past month. Despite my unhappy luck I still attend assemblies, at which I do not instigate any chaos whatsoever.” She gave him a cheerful smile. “If a walking calamity such as I can brave the punch bowls and card tables, sir, then surely you can.”

Thorne gave her a sharp look. “You consider yourself afflicted with bad luck?”

“Undeniably so. Mr. Branwen, our vicar, says the Lord never troubles us with more burdens than we can carry,” she said, and frowned at her scarred foot. “He must consider me an exceptionally capable porter.”

“You show good humor in the face of adversity,” he chided. “I should follow your example, but I have no acquaintances here who might be persuaded to introduce me.” Thorne hesitated before he said, “Unless you would be willing to do so, Miss Starling.”

Meredith’s heart skipped a beat, until her sensibility squashed it. “For us to appear together would encourage certain false notions.” When his expression didn't change, she said, “People would presume that you and I had formed an attachment. That would also defeat the purpose of such outings.”

Thorne’s mouth hitched. “Of course, we wouldn't want that.”

“I could introduce you to my cousin Percival,” Meredith said, ducking her head as she felt her cheeks going pink. “He’s very fond of me, so he would not mind the acquaintance. He also served in the Army, so I daresay the two of you might become good friends.”

“Just how fond of you is this cousin?” he asked bluntly.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Percival is like an older brother to me,” she assured him. “In fact, he has saved me more than once from being badly hurt during one of my misfortunes.”

“He is the same cousin who rescued you from the poacher's trap?” When she nodded, he came to her side. “Very well, I will meet him. But if I am to inflict myself on Renwick society, I will do so only under one condition: that you also attend the events.”

His stipulation puzzled her. “We do not have so many assemblies here that you could hope to avoid me, sir.”

“Excellent.” Thorne smiled. “I look forward to discussing the quirks of climate over our first game of whist.”