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“I’m afraid I must disagree,” Sorin replied. “The call of home is stronger than any wanderlust. I’ve traveled the world, and never once did its pull on my heart diminish.” That much was true, though it was more than Holly Hall he’d yearned to see.
As if answering his private thoughts, Eleanor murmured, “Travel abroad is all good and well, but I should never wish to be forever parted from all that is familiar. My heart of hearts longs to remain here, among those dearest to me.”
His heart leaped as her wistful gaze settled on him.
But Caroline wasn’t done yet. “I long to remain, too,” she added lightly. “However, with a male cousin who is to inherit everything and two younger sisters to help bring out before he does so, I’ve no choice but to leave.”
Beside him, Eleanor stopped in her tracks and turned, aghast. “Oh, Caroline, I’m so sorry. I sometimes forget that—”
“Please don’t,” interrupted Caroline, her expression stoic. “It is simply the way of things for those of us without the means to do as we please.” Her mournful eyes turned to Sorin. “But my humble upbringing has prepared me for the inevitable.”
He would have laughed at her artifice if he’d known it wouldn’t anger Eleanor, who in her undeserved chagrin no doubt felt a complete louse. The thought of her suffering any distress over such an obvious attempt to garner sympathy peeved him. “A humble upbringing is no cause for shame,” he said, much to Caroline’s delight. “Indeed, I believe it will be a great asset to you, Miss Caroline. Your future husband will no doubt appreciate your sense of economy when it comes to the judicious employment of his income.”
His inference must have hit the mark dead on, for her mouth dropped open just as he turned back to Eleanor. He pretended he hadn’t noticed. “I do hope your cook saw fit to make some of those strawberry tartlets I so love,” he said quietly. “I confess that I missed them almost as much as I did home.”
“Oh, I—I believe she did,” said Eleanor, half turning to look behind her, obviously still concerned for her friend.
“One day, I shall find a way to woo that talented woman over to Holly Hall,” he said, calling her attention back again.
“Ah, but then you would have one less reason to come and visit us,” she said, the smile returning to her eyes.
“I need no such impetus. The pleasure of your company is quite enough to bring me here.” It was bold and flirtatious, and he marked how her cheeks pinked at the compliment.
Before she could answer, they rounded the corner and entered the drawing room where Charles was waiting, a glass of brandy in hand. “Ah, here you are! I hope you’re prepared for an evening of culinary delights. The table is fairly groaning from supporting such a feast, and I’ve broken out the best of my brandy to wash it down.”
Rowena swept in. “Yes, and I see you’ve decided to precede the meal with it as well. Good evening, everyone. I do hope you will pardon the delay. Our other guest has not yet arrived.”
“Late in the coming, as usual,” chuckled Charles, avoiding his wife’s gaze as he drained the last of the brandy from his glass. “Marston always did like to make an entrance.”
“Is Marston to join us, then?” Sorin asked, grinning. A retired Master and Commander in the Royal Navy, James Marston was a good friend. The gentleman had been in command of the first ship to take him from England, and they’d become fast friends on the journey. Upon leaving the service after the war, he had come to live in Somerset because Sorin had described it as a paradise—and it was within a day’s journey of the sea. “I did not see him here last week and assumed he’d gone off to London early.”
Rowena shook her head. “He was unfortunate enough to be laid up with a cold and missed the festivities.”
“But I’m here now and ready to make amends,” said a man’s voice from the doorway.
Sorin turned with gladness. “Well met again, Marston! It seems an age since we last saw each other.”
“Well, I consider myself fortunate to be here. Damnable cold brought me low for a bit, but I’m back in Bristol fashion.” The blond, mustached man was indeed gaunt, but seemed in good spirits. He bowed to the ladies. “Lady Ashford. Lady Eleanor. Miss Caroline.”
Observing Eleanor, Sorin was pleased to note nothing extraordinary in her greeting. Caroline’s reaction, however, was most surprising—she behaved with indifference bordering on outright rudeness.
Rowena gestured for them to follow. “Now that our party is happily complete, let us dine.”
Sorin started as Caroline all but leaped to his side, where she remained like a tenacious burr all the way to the dining room. Thus it was that when it came time to be seated, Sorin found himself across from Eleanor rather than by her side as he’d desired. Sandwiched between Rowena and Caroline for the duration of the meal, he was given little opportunity to do more than glance at her every now and then.
Half an hour later, his head began to ache. Frustration mounted by the minute as Caroline alternated between assaulting him with questions and regaling him with witticisms that were no doubt intended to make her appear sophisticated and clever. They did neither. He sneaked another peek at Eleanor, who’d turned to ask Ashford a question he couldn’t hear—because the flirtatious chatterbox beside him seemed to require no breath.
Heat crept up his neck as Eleanor caught his eye and shot him a quick look of amused sympathy. Bollocks. He’d been staring at her like a damned lovesick schoolboy. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the still-nattering Caroline. George’s gout, the woman was a bloody magpie! Her voice grated. Her high, tittering laugh annoyed. Her subtle innuendoes alarmed.
By the time dessert—the much anticipated strawberry tartlet—had at last been eaten and their hostess invited her guests to join her in the music room, he was fit for Bedlam. Rising with haste that very nearly upset his chair, he fled to the other side of the table to offer Eleanor his arm, no longer caring how it might appear. His talkative table companion was left no choice but to pair off with Marston, and he marked that neither of them looked very pleased over the fact. Their strange aversion to each other was a mystery that would have to be solved—later. For the moment at least, he’d been granted a blessed reprieve and was going to take advantage of it.
When they reached the music room, he deliberately led Eleanor over to a settee that would accommodate only two occupants. “I’ve missed these little gatherings,” he whispered to her as Rowena settled herself at the pianoforte and began to play. “I meant what I said earlier. I missed home…and this, more than anything.”
“You were missed as well,” she whispered back with a sweet smile. “Tonight was planned specifically for your enjoyment, you know.”
“Oh? And what of Marston?” he replied in a teasing manner. “Is he not also a special guest? Or is he here so often as to be considered commonplace—as was I, once upon a time?”
A faint grimace crossed her lovely face. “Lord Marston is here because Rowena wanted a dinner partner for Caroline. Unfortunately, I think Caroline already had someone else in mind,” she said, wincing. “I do hope she was not too much of an imposition.”
