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Caroline turned to her, brow puckered. “You needn’t bite my head off. I meant no insult. I was simply admitting I’d been mistaken about him.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts from lack of sleep, I suppose. It was a long night.” Yes. That’s it. I’m tired. “Come, let us go down and meet them.”
“With all of those dogs running about loose?” said her friend with a look of horror. “Are you not afraid for our gowns?”
“My cousin’s hounds are very well trained, I assure you.” If one knew the proper commands, which she did.
Caroline looked doubtful, but followed anyway.
Eleanor waded right into the churning mass of dogs without any hesitation, leaving Caroline to cautiously pick her way through with many a gasp and squeal of dismay.
“A successful hunt, I see,” Eleanor said, grinning at the men. “I suppose I should run and tell Cook what we’ll be having for dinner for the rest of the week.”
Her cousin beamed at the compliment. “Blasted creatures were so complacent I could have simply plucked them from the ground like fallen fruit and shoved them into sacks.” He turned to Sorin. “You will take some of them with you, won’t you?”
“I’ve got plenty of my own, I’m sure,” replied Sorin with a shake of his head. “Mine have had five years’ respite, whereas yours have been undisturbed for only two. Perhaps you might render me the same assistance in thinning them out next week?”
“I should be delighted,” said Charles with gusto. “But look at these lovely creatures that have come to witness our triumphal return!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the two women. “How brave of you ladies to risk your slippers and hems amongst this unruly lot. Down, Albert!” he commanded one particularly excited dog that had decided to personally greet Caroline—who was even now squeaking a horrified objection.
Eleanor repressed a laugh as the dog obediently put its forepaws back on the ground. Caroline’s previously pristine skirt now bore an enormous pair of muddy streaks down its front. “You cannot let them know you’re afraid,” she tutted without sympathy. “As long as you appear fearless and in command they won’t bother you.”
“Yes, well I rather wish you’d told me that before coming down here,” said her friend crossly. “Just look at my gown—it’s ruined!”
“Not to worry,” Eleanor soothed, flicking a glance at Sorin. “Fran will have it out in a blink.” Good, now he’d see what a petulant ninny Caroline could be. She turned to him. “You did enjoy yourself, I hope?”
He barely glanced at her, so intent was he on retying a knot that had worked loose on one of the birds during their walk back. “Very much indeed.” He turned away from her to face Caroline. “And I’m glad to see we were not the only ones taking advantage of the spring sunshine. How sorry I am to see your lovely gown spoiled, Miss Caroline. I’m sure Eleanor meant it when she said it could be quickly put to rights.”
Shock suffused Eleanor as he smiled down at Caroline—and as Caroline blushed to the roots of her hair in happy response. Her heart began to hammer in her chest in a peculiar, almost painful manner.
“Cousin Eleanor?”
She started and looked to see Charles staring at her expectantly. “Yes?”
“I asked if you would be so kind as to run to the house and tell Rowena we’ve returned. Oh, and do let her know the menu will need adjusting. We’ll feast on pheasant tonight!”
“Yes, of course,” she replied woodenly. Turning back, she again stared at Caroline, who was now batting her lashes in the most preposterous manner. Despite her foolish appearance—she looked as if she had something in her eye—Sorin was being quite cordial toward her. Attentive, even.
Her cousin cleared his throat, clearly impatient for her to get on with it. Feeling alone and put out, she began walking up the hill. It didn’t make any sense at
all. Sorin loathed women who behaved like Caroline. Or so she’d thought. Hadn’t he always told her that a lady who flirted too brazenly was no lady at all? Hadn’t he always adjured her to conduct herself with more dignity?
Confused and nettled, she trudged across the lawn and into the house. Pausing on the doorstep, she turned and listened. Faint sounds of laughter drifted back on the breeze—Sorin’s and Caroline’s. As there was no one about to care, she gave in to a sudden fit of ill temper and slammed the door behind her with a resounding bang, causing the glass panes to shudder in their frames.
The noise brought her up short. Why am I so tetchy this morning? Sorin was only being…Sorin. Obviously, he’d come to accept Caroline as part of the family, that’s all. She stared at the floor in shame and noticed how damp and dingy the hem of her skirt had become from the walk through the grass.
By the time the other three had finished their leisurely stroll back to the house, she’d changed her gown and was waiting for them with Rowena in the salon, a pot of fresh tea at the ready. In they came, still red-cheeked from the chilly air and talking excitedly of the shoot.
Caroline, still bearing the muddy paw prints, hung at Sorin’s elbow, her eyes shining with admiration. “Do tell me about the elephants, Lord Wincanton. I’d give anything to see one myself, but since that is, of course, impossible, I should love to hear about them in every detail.”
If Eleanor was irritated before, she was now positively ready to take her friend by the ear and toss her out of the nearest window. “Tea, anyone?” she offered brightly. “You must surely be chilled to the bone. This just came from the kitchens so it’ll be nice and hot.”
“Ah, yes!” boomed Charles. “How very thoughtful of you, cousin. Wincanton, have some tea. And if that won’t drive away the bite, there’s always a nip of brandy, eh?”
Eleanor watched with bewilderment as Sorin seated himself by Caroline rather than taking the seat beside her as he’d always done in the past. What in heaven’s name is going on? Carefully, she thought back over the evening prior, trying to remember if she’d done anything that might have offended him. But other than forgetting her gloves, nothing came to mind. While they talked, she poured. “Lord Wincanton?” she said, handing him a cup. “Dash of cream and half a spoonful of sugar, is that not how you take yours?”
“Yes, thank you,” came his absent reply as he reached out and took it from her. She shivered as his fingers briefly brushed against hers. Strange, she’d thought it quite cozy in here a moment ago. Her temper warmed her quickly, however, as he immediately turned his attention back to Caroline, who was talking about the nature sketches she’d been working on over the winter.
Frustrated by his short answer and lack of attention, Eleanor poured for her cousin and Caroline. The temptation to put lemon in her friend’s cup instead of sugar was strong, but she decided against the juvenile prank. Caroline was not to blame for his odd behavior, after all, even if she was making a complete cake of herself. For the life of her, Eleanor couldn’t understand why Sorin was paying her any mind at all. He intensely disliked women like Caroline—or at least that was what he’d always claimed.
