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Authors: Rosanne E. Lortz
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chit trying to get rid of him?
Eda set her fork down. “I’m sure Torin is quite old enough to make up his own mind about it. He may not wish to attend Oxford at present.”
“But he must do something ! It’s not as if he has a title like Haro, and younger sons must make themselves useful as they can.” Arabella looked the young man up and down. “I hardly think you’re suited for the army.” It was a direct cut at his lack of physique. “Perhaps law then, or the church?”
Torin’s face grew red and his lips hardened into a thin line. He opened his mouth to say something, but Haro, certain that politeness would have no part in it, forestalled him by jumping into the conversation.
“’Pon rep! The house has been dull this afternoon. All of the ladies disappeared and we gentlemen were left to our own devices. It’s remarkable how necessary the fair sex is to the enjoyment of daily life.”
Mr. Hastings laughed. “ My afternoon was hardly dull, but to each his own, Lord Anglesford. To each his own!”
“I am sorry you were so deprived of entertainment,” said Eda, “but I should think each of the womenfolk had quite a good reason for disappearing.” She straightened her shoulders in her simple black gown—an unfortunate contrast with Arabella’s blue silk.
“Ah, yes,” said Haro, having tiptoed around the sticky subject of Oxford only to step into a far muddier patch of conversation. “But I’m sure we’d all just as soon forget those reasons.”
He looked down at Arabella sitting near him. “Despite all the unpleasantness, you still look marvelous—a rare beauty in that blue dress.”
He tried to continue his delicate balancing act by addressing his cousin across the table next. “And you look well, too, Eda. I…hope you found Jenny easily enough.”
“No thanks to you.” Her tone was still as chilly and pointed as the icicles on the eaves.
Haro knew he had made a mull of it as soon as the words came out. What kind of fool tries to compliment two ladies—rivals!—at the same time?
Arabella stiffened at the mention of the wretched beast. Her hand found Haro’s underneath the table and held it tightly, as if she were in need of protection and aid all over again. Haro rubbed his thumb in a gentle circle over the edge of her palm and felt her relax.
“Your nag,” said Arabella, “is not exactly a horse that I would be proud to keep in my stables.”
“Then”—Eda set down her wine glass with a flourish—“it is just as well that these stables don’t belong to you.”
The rest of the dinner and the evening passed in like manner—William Hastings growing somnolent from a full stomach, Lady Anglesford becoming more agitated by the constant friction, Torin becoming more petulant as Arabella needled him, and Eda fencing every thrust with her own sharp tongue. Haro played the part of peacemaker as best he could, but over and over again, one question was running through his head: “Is Woldwick worth this ?”
And there were more than a few times that night that he was tempted to answer no .
8
O n the following day, Great-Uncle Harold finally made an appearance. He had come in from an early morning walk in the woods, dressed in an impossibly long greatcoat with a towering hat pulled down tightly over his ears. Like the young earl, Uncle Harold was impressively tall, and although age had stooped his shoulders a little, he still claimed that the top of his head was the highest in all the county.
The family and their guests meandered through the breakfast room, each at his own pace. Lady Anglesford had disappeared to speak to the housekeeper about the daily tasks. William Hastings had taken his barouche into the nearby village, both to take the air and to post some letters of business. The younger set was loitering outside the drawing room discussing their plans for the day when Uncle Harold materialized.
The Emison brood greeted him fondly. Both young men shook his hand with
Eda set her fork down. “I’m sure Torin is quite old enough to make up his own mind about it. He may not wish to attend Oxford at present.”
“But he must do something ! It’s not as if he has a title like Haro, and younger sons must make themselves useful as they can.” Arabella looked the young man up and down. “I hardly think you’re suited for the army.” It was a direct cut at his lack of physique. “Perhaps law then, or the church?”
Torin’s face grew red and his lips hardened into a thin line. He opened his mouth to say something, but Haro, certain that politeness would have no part in it, forestalled him by jumping into the conversation.
“’Pon rep! The house has been dull this afternoon. All of the ladies disappeared and we gentlemen were left to our own devices. It’s remarkable how necessary the fair sex is to the enjoyment of daily life.”
Mr. Hastings laughed. “ My afternoon was hardly dull, but to each his own, Lord Anglesford. To each his own!”
“I am sorry you were so deprived of entertainment,” said Eda, “but I should think each of the womenfolk had quite a good reason for disappearing.” She straightened her shoulders in her simple black gown—an unfortunate contrast with Arabella’s blue silk.
“Ah, yes,” said Haro, having tiptoed around the sticky subject of Oxford only to step into a far muddier patch of conversation. “But I’m sure we’d all just as soon forget those reasons.”
He looked down at Arabella sitting near him. “Despite all the unpleasantness, you still look marvelous—a rare beauty in that blue dress.”
He tried to continue his delicate balancing act by addressing his cousin across the table next. “And you look well, too, Eda. I…hope you found Jenny easily enough.”
“No thanks to you.” Her tone was still as chilly and pointed as the icicles on the eaves.
Haro knew he had made a mull of it as soon as the words came out. What kind of fool tries to compliment two ladies—rivals!—at the same time?
Arabella stiffened at the mention of the wretched beast. Her hand found Haro’s underneath the table and held it tightly, as if she were in need of protection and aid all over again. Haro rubbed his thumb in a gentle circle over the edge of her palm and felt her relax.
“Your nag,” said Arabella, “is not exactly a horse that I would be proud to keep in my stables.”
“Then”—Eda set down her wine glass with a flourish—“it is just as well that these stables don’t belong to you.”
The rest of the dinner and the evening passed in like manner—William Hastings growing somnolent from a full stomach, Lady Anglesford becoming more agitated by the constant friction, Torin becoming more petulant as Arabella needled him, and Eda fencing every thrust with her own sharp tongue. Haro played the part of peacemaker as best he could, but over and over again, one question was running through his head: “Is Woldwick worth this ?”
And there were more than a few times that night that he was tempted to answer no .
8
O n the following day, Great-Uncle Harold finally made an appearance. He had come in from an early morning walk in the woods, dressed in an impossibly long greatcoat with a towering hat pulled down tightly over his ears. Like the young earl, Uncle Harold was impressively tall, and although age had stooped his shoulders a little, he still claimed that the top of his head was the highest in all the county.
The family and their guests meandered through the breakfast room, each at his own pace. Lady Anglesford had disappeared to speak to the housekeeper about the daily tasks. William Hastings had taken his barouche into the nearby village, both to take the air and to post some letters of business. The younger set was loitering outside the drawing room discussing their plans for the day when Uncle Harold materialized.
The Emison brood greeted him fondly. Both young men shook his hand with
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