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“Mmm. Well, not to be blunt, but she is no child now,” murmured Marston as the subject of their discussion began to play. “And the way you’ve been staring at her all evening…” One shaggy, straw-colored brow lifted. “I won’t be boorish enough to point out the obvious. I only hope you can reach an understanding with her before it is too late. I would caution you about the temptations of London subverting your cause, but I know Lady Eleanor is not one to have her head turned easily. All the same, I advise you to leave nothing to chance. You ought to let her know how you feel, and soon.”
The blood began to pound in Sorin’s temples. “Am I so easily spotted for a fool?”
“Never a fool,” answered Marston kindly. “I think she would make you a fine wife, if you can convince her. She has sworn off marriage, you know.”
He met Eleanor’s smiling eyes over the top of the pianoforte, and his face prickled with heat. “I’m aware.”
Beside him, Marston chuckled. “This would be most entertaining did I not know you so well and so deeply sympathize with your plight.”
Turning, Sorin regarded his friend with all seriousness. “Sympathize?”
“Oh, come. Do you think I don’t know what the pair of you were whispering about over here? And even were you not, you cannot have failed to mark the manner in which I am treated by Miss Caroline.”
“I won’t lie and tell you that it went unnoticed, or that I did not express to Lady Eleanor my curiosity regarding the matter.”
“Then you must know that I’ve very likely made a lifelong enemy in Miss Caroline,” said the other man. “She despises me utterly.”
“An unhappy circumstance for you, unless I’m mistaken.”
“Indeed,” said Marston, his brisk manner at odds with the sadness in his eyes. “And to make matters worse, I absolutely must marry this year. I forfeit my inheritance to the next in line if I do not, and such is not an option as I must support my mother and two younger sisters, one of whom is a widow and the other unwed and unlikely ever to marry. Mother begged me to ask for Miss Caroline’s hand last Season. I very much wanted to comply, but I simply could not bring myself to do it.”
“Why? I was given to understand she was quite willing to accept you.”
Marston stared at his folded hands for a long moment. “I was too afraid,” he said at last. “The first time I pursued her, she dropped me for a more tempting prospect and I was humiliated. I was reluctant to bind myself to a woman whose affections I could not be certain of, so I avoided her while we were in London. My plan was to wait and renew our acquaintance upon returning home, where I’d at least have some privacy in the event of another rejection. But she would not see me. I was offered no explanation. When I finally cornered her and demanded to know why I was being treated thusly, she informed me that I was the cause of all her woes and then accused me of spreading lies about her in London.” His eyes were devoid of hope. “I swear to you on my honor that I never said anything about her that was unflattering. Though we are friends, I would not have even spoken to you of what lay between us had you not let on that you already knew part of the tale.”
Sorin disliked meddling in other people’s lives, but he disliked his friend’s misery more. “I would like to help you if it is within my power.”
“There is nothing to be done.” Marston’s pronouncement had a disturbing ring of finality to it. “She made her choice and has left me with none but to seek a wife elsewhere.”
“Do you still care for her enough to want to marry her?”
The other man didn’t speak for a long moment. “I loved her once. She was sweet and unspoiled when we first met.” Hi
s voice hardened. “But London infected her with its caprice, and now it is too late.”
“Perhaps not,” Sorin suggested. “She might be more forgiving if she knew the truth. Young ladies are often tempted to foolishness in their first Season. Might you not try just once more?”
Marston shook his head. “I thank you for your kind offer, but I beg you to leave it be. She did not find me worthy then, and she likely never will.” He fixed Sorin with a piercing stare. “As for you, my friend, don’t let this opportunity pass you by. If you love Lady Eleanor, you must be swift to claim her heart. Do not allow her to—”
But he was interrupted by applause, which both gentlemen hastily joined as the two women rose and curtseyed before their audience. Eleanor sent him a quizzical look that he returned with a smile. Caroline, however, had the demeanor of a thundercloud.
Chapter Eight
“That beastly man!” hissed Caroline as they rose from their seat at the pianoforte. “How I wish your cousin had not invited him! I hope he dies this very night of…of—the pox!”
Eleanor looked to her in shock. Caroline had always been quick to vent her spleen, but rarely had she seen her friend in such a state of rage. Her face was nearly as red as her hair, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Linking arms with her, Eleanor quickly propelled Caroline straight out into the hall, ignoring Rowena’s look of concerned inquiry as they passed her by.
“What are you doing?” squeaked an indignant Caroline, trying to pull away.
“Saving your neck!” Eleanor told her. “Now keep your voice down before the whole house hears you.” Quickly, she dragged Caroline into the room across the hall. “If anyone asks, we’ll tell them you felt faint,” she said, shutting the door behind them.
“No!” said Caroline, wrenching her arm free. “We must go back before he spreads lies about me to Lord Wincanton!”
“Lies? How can you possibly know for certain what they were discussing?” Eleanor prudently blocked the door. “Let us not be so hasty in condemning the man.”
But her friend’s red curls shook from side to side with a violence that made them look like dancing flames. “Any fool could see from the look on Wincanton’s face that something untoward was said—and I am no fool!” Her eyes narrowed. “I shall have to mend the damage as quickly as possible. I cannot afford to lose even a moment! Now stand aside.”
“You’re making a terrible mistake!” Eleanor warned, flinging out her arms to prevent the angry girl from dodging past. “Caroline, you cannot pursue Lord Wincanton!”
