that Northam's invitation had Louise's fingerprints all over it. "Louise is trying her hand at matchmaking," Elizabeth said, going straight to the heart of it.
"I know. Her remarks could not properly be called hints. She commented on your qualities with all the subtlety of a Greek chorus." Northam regarded Elizabeth closely and correctly judged she was unamused. "It could not hurt to permit her to think she has succeeded, could it? I believe she will rest her attentions elsewhere if we appear to fall in with her plans."
Elizabeth's gold-flecked eyes narrowed. "I believe you are as manipulative as Louise," she said after a moment.
Northam's brief smile was unapologetic. "What say you, Lady Elizabeth? Aren't you the least bit intrigued that Lady Battenburn thinks we would suit?"
Intrigued? No, that was not the word. Terrified. That was a far better descriptor."You would be better served to attach your interests to another of my sex," she said. "For all that you might find them less entertaining, you will also find them less taxing." Elizabeth could see by his patient regard that she had not dissuaded him in the least. "Oh, very well, my lord. I shall accompany you on the hunt. As for the remainder of your stay at Battenburn, we shall see."
Northam scooped up his books and candle. He let the light flicker over the promise of sunlight in Elizabeth's hair. "Good evening," he said, his tone gentle now, respectful.
Elizabeth Penrose made no reply. Her gaze dropped away from his with a certain deliberateness that was not avoidance or surrender, but dismissal. She heard Northam chuckle softly and take his leave. When she looked up from her letter as the door closed, her vision was blurred by tears, and the hand lying over the quill was shaking.
* * *
Brendan David Hampton, Earl of Northam, woke with a start. He had only just fallen asleep, or so it seemed. Southerton was no respecter of anyone's respite but his own. He closed the door loudly behind himself and proceeded into the room without waiting for an invitation.
Northam opened one eye, saw who it was, and rearranged his pillow so it was over his head. He did not care in the least if he suffocated, only that he died in his sleep. "Go away," he muttered in the event Southerton could not interpret his mood.
Southerton blithely ignored his friend."I have confiscated a tea service from one of the maids. Apparently it was intended for Lady Heathering, but I am confident that lady will thank me for my timely interference. She is still ensconced with Lord Allen, though they have moved from the linen closet to his room. I stumbled upon them yet again trying to find my way here."
Since Southerton had been one of the finest navigators in the Royal Navy, it seemed highly unlikely to Northam that his sense of direction had suddenly become impaired. "What are you up to, South?" he asked, lifting the pillow just enough for his voice to carry.
Grinning, Southerton said, "Returning a favor."
Northam realized this was something he did not want to know. He pushed one hand out from under the covers and held it up. There was blessed silence. "What are you doing here? Where is Brill?"
"Your valet is deuced unhappy with you. Most everyone else is risen these last two hours and he hasn't been able to turn you out. I am here as the sacrificial lamb. If I do not have my heart cut out, Brill will let himself in directly." Southerton poured a cup of tea, added a single lump of sugar, and carried it to the bed. "Here. Take this. You will feel more the thing after you drink something." His clear gray eyes dropped to the books on top of the bedside table. "Never say you only nodded off."
Northam sat up slowly, raked back his hair in a tired gesture, then took the offered cup and saucer. "I was reading."
Southerton lifted the uppermost book. " Castle Rackrent. A Gothic novel." One brow kicked up. "Kept you awake, did it?"
"I confess I was reeled in like a gaping trout."
The viscount laughed.
"I know. Her remarks could not properly be called hints. She commented on your qualities with all the subtlety of a Greek chorus." Northam regarded Elizabeth closely and correctly judged she was unamused. "It could not hurt to permit her to think she has succeeded, could it? I believe she will rest her attentions elsewhere if we appear to fall in with her plans."
Elizabeth's gold-flecked eyes narrowed. "I believe you are as manipulative as Louise," she said after a moment.
Northam's brief smile was unapologetic. "What say you, Lady Elizabeth? Aren't you the least bit intrigued that Lady Battenburn thinks we would suit?"
Intrigued? No, that was not the word. Terrified. That was a far better descriptor."You would be better served to attach your interests to another of my sex," she said. "For all that you might find them less entertaining, you will also find them less taxing." Elizabeth could see by his patient regard that she had not dissuaded him in the least. "Oh, very well, my lord. I shall accompany you on the hunt. As for the remainder of your stay at Battenburn, we shall see."
Northam scooped up his books and candle. He let the light flicker over the promise of sunlight in Elizabeth's hair. "Good evening," he said, his tone gentle now, respectful.
Elizabeth Penrose made no reply. Her gaze dropped away from his with a certain deliberateness that was not avoidance or surrender, but dismissal. She heard Northam chuckle softly and take his leave. When she looked up from her letter as the door closed, her vision was blurred by tears, and the hand lying over the quill was shaking.
* * *
Brendan David Hampton, Earl of Northam, woke with a start. He had only just fallen asleep, or so it seemed. Southerton was no respecter of anyone's respite but his own. He closed the door loudly behind himself and proceeded into the room without waiting for an invitation.
Northam opened one eye, saw who it was, and rearranged his pillow so it was over his head. He did not care in the least if he suffocated, only that he died in his sleep. "Go away," he muttered in the event Southerton could not interpret his mood.
Southerton blithely ignored his friend."I have confiscated a tea service from one of the maids. Apparently it was intended for Lady Heathering, but I am confident that lady will thank me for my timely interference. She is still ensconced with Lord Allen, though they have moved from the linen closet to his room. I stumbled upon them yet again trying to find my way here."
Since Southerton had been one of the finest navigators in the Royal Navy, it seemed highly unlikely to Northam that his sense of direction had suddenly become impaired. "What are you up to, South?" he asked, lifting the pillow just enough for his voice to carry.
Grinning, Southerton said, "Returning a favor."
Northam realized this was something he did not want to know. He pushed one hand out from under the covers and held it up. There was blessed silence. "What are you doing here? Where is Brill?"
"Your valet is deuced unhappy with you. Most everyone else is risen these last two hours and he hasn't been able to turn you out. I am here as the sacrificial lamb. If I do not have my heart cut out, Brill will let himself in directly." Southerton poured a cup of tea, added a single lump of sugar, and carried it to the bed. "Here. Take this. You will feel more the thing after you drink something." His clear gray eyes dropped to the books on top of the bedside table. "Never say you only nodded off."
Northam sat up slowly, raked back his hair in a tired gesture, then took the offered cup and saucer. "I was reading."
Southerton lifted the uppermost book. " Castle Rackrent. A Gothic novel." One brow kicked up. "Kept you awake, did it?"
"I confess I was reeled in like a gaping trout."
The viscount laughed.
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