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It was the first time he hadn’t seen a smile on her face when he approached since they were married in Scotland.
Something was amiss.
His mind raced. Had he told her he’d meet her and not shown? Slighted her at dinner somehow? Promised something else entirely that he’d long since forgotten about?
“You’re unhappy.”
She blinked, her lips pursing. “I’m not.”
“You are if that decidedly cruel frown you’re attempting to hide is any indication.” His hands clasped behind his back. “What is it? Does it have to do with your brother? If so, I apologize for threatening him, but I cannot have the man thinking he can come into my home and pluck you out of it.”
She shook her head and tightened the shawl about her shoulders. “No—no—that I understood. My brother does not possess tact or he wouldn’t have charged in with swords at the ready. When he gets angry he is not always the best at controlling it.”
Reiner offered a pinched smile. “I saw that.”
“You were right to not try to placate him—ferocity calls for ferocity in an instance like that with him. It is the only thing he’ll respond to.”
Reiner nodded. “So if it isn’t your brother, what is it? Tomorrow? The rest of the guests should be arriving before the wedding in the morning.”
Her look shifted off of him and she stared at the moon over his shoulder.
“Are you nervous about the ball? You shouldn’t be. You’ve done splendidly as hostess thus far. You’ve even managed to charm the crotchety old hens that love the gossip.”
“No, I’m not nervous—this was what I was raised to do.” Her look whipped back to him, her stare intent on his face. “But yes, actually, who is it that will be arriving tomorrow morning?”
“Several more peers and their wives.” Reiner shrugged. “A few men that arrange investments. One or two merchants.”
“Tradesmen—they are welcome?”
“We’re not in a London ballroom, so yes—one cannot imagine the amount of schemes and partnerships that are put in place during these house parties. People that wouldn’t dare to even glance at each other on a Mayfair street are inseparable connivers at Wolfbridge. It is most difficult to keep all these ancestral titles and estates afloat without new funds and investments making their way into the coffers. And this is a place to do that.”
Sloane nodded, a decided frown landing upon her face.
He reached down and grabbed her hands, tugging her to her feet. “So tell me what has put that sour look upon your face.”
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.
“I will keep you out here all night if I have to.” He set his hands along her shoulders, his fingertips curling into her soft shawl. “And it will get chilly. These last few days have been unusually warm, but summer is gone. So tell me before your absence in the castle is noted by one of the gossipmongers and we have to marry under a cloud of scandal tomorrow.”
Her look slowly made its way back to his face, her eyes slits, pinpricks focused solely on seeing into his soul. “Lord Falsted caught me in a room alone an hour ago.”
His head snapped back. “Falsted? But I had Claude and Lawrence tailing him. He wasn’t supposed to get within ten paces of you.”
“Yes, well, he managed to slip away from them—if I recall, it’s not such a difficult task.”
Reiner shook his head, muttering under his breath. Imbeciles. The both of them. His gaze focused on Sloane. “He didn’t touch you, did he? For if he—”
“No—no—he didn’t do me any bodily harm.”
Reiner’s head angled to the side as he stared at her. “But he harmed your mind?”
She twisted her shoulders out of his grip and took a step to the side, backing three steps away from him. “He told me you agreed to purchase more Swallowford lands.”
His breath caught in his throat.
What in the blasted hell had Falsted told her?
He stared at her. At her wide blue eyes glowing in the moonlight, begging him for an explanation.
