“And that’s resting? You’ll bury your face in account books, and the servants will have to remind you to eat!”
“But it’s restful to me, honestly.”
“Very well,” Penelope said, as they both rose. “I’ll explain things to Oliver. Maybe he’ll go find Lord Blackthorne’s room and talk to him. He is ... sharing your apartments?”
“He is. I made certain he knows I am uneasy about our marriage.”
“But a man assumes ...” Penelope trailed off again, growing pink.
“I know what a man assumes. But this man was my father’s dearest friend. He has offered to give me time.”
“Probably not much time,” Penelope warned. “He’s a soldier, after all. Now I must go speak with Oliver.”
Cecilia kept a smile on her face as Penelope left her, then it faded away. How longwouldhe wait?
Chapter 2
Cecilia was almost late to dinner, when usually she was the most punctual one in the house. But she’d paced the study for two hours, the account books not bringing their usual focus, her mind whirling about her dilemma even as she imagined her “husband” exploring her rooms. It was Talbot who gently announced—for the second time—that their guests had already gathered in the drawing room, and dinner was about to be served.
Breathless from hurrying, Cecilia found Oliver leaning against the massive hearth, eyeing Lord Blackthorne with undisguised indifference, which pricked her with sadness. His disheveled blond hair was darker than her own, his eyes a bloodshot gray, his frame lean and gangly with youth. Beneath his brown coat, he wore plaid trousers that set off his dashing red waistcoat. He seemed so young when compared to Lord Blackthorne’s military bearing and air of quiet confidence. Hewasyoung, she reminded herself.
Lord Blackthorne, neatly, conservatively, dressed in dark coat and trousers, stared back at Oliver, nonplussed. She didn’t know if she expected him to wear his uniform, but she was relieved he hadn’t. Oliver didn’t need to be reminded of their days in India—and frankly, neither did she.
Penelope’s worried frown cleared upon Cecilia’s arrival. “There you are! And aren’t we all just starving? Lord Blackthorne must be, after his journey from London.”
“It’s not that far from Town,” Oliver said sullenly. “A few hours by horse.”
“The weather and his injury might have affected his travel, Oliver,” Cecilia said. “But why don’t you lead the way.”
She was paired up with Lord Blackthorne, who held out his arm, and she placed her hand on it. She could feel the tight, hard muscles of his forearm, and it made something strange swirl around in her stomach. Never had touching a man seemed so fraught with intriguing danger. Releasing him as soon as was proper, she allowed him to guide her chair beneath her.
The table could easily seat fifty people, but they sat together at one end. She wondered if Talbot had ignored the family dining room to make sure that Lord Blackthorne understood the importance of the family he’d married into.
“Sit at Oliver’s left, my lord, as our honored guest,” Cecilia murmured.
He nodded, and she slowly let out her breath as he walked away and sat down opposite her. Penelope perched on a chair to her right, her expression fond as she looked at Oliver, then hesitant, perhaps even eager, as she studied Lord Blackthorne. Cecilia wondered what Penelope had said to Oliver because his sullen dark glances were no true indication, and she felt another twinge of sadness. As the earl and host, he might have begun the conversation, but he said nothing, only eating the first course, acting as removed as a little boy.
She saw Lord Blackthorne studying him, and she felt a flare of embarrassment and exasperated tenderness all at the same time. In some ways, Oliver had been more her child than her mother’s, especially after the death of his identical twin when they were only children. She touched the locket she always wore, with the miniatures of both her brothers laughing as if to each other.
It took her a long moment to get beyond that memory. “Lord Blackthorne, how was your journey from India?”
“Uneventful, thank you, Lady Blackthorne.”
“The steamships make the journey in only six weeks or so, which is far more pleasant.” She gave a faint shudder. “I remember the six months’ journey on sailing ships. My mother had a delicate constitution and spent much of the time in her bunk.”
Oliver casually said, “So, Blackthorne, tell us the real reason you married my sister, sight unseen.”
“Oliver!” Cecilia cried.
Michael had been expecting this, so he wasn’t all that surprised. Young Lord Appertanshouldbe concerned about his sister—but Michael sensed there was so much more going on. The young man seemed immature and didn’t even attempt to hide it. It was hard to believe he was the son of a military hero. But, then again, Appertan’s father had not often been a part of his life the last ten years or so.
Her face a pretty pink as if with embarrassment, Cecilia said, “My marriage is none of your concern, Oliver. You weren’t my guardian.”
“But I am your brother, and the earl.”
Michael answered honestly, “I married your sister because she asked me to.”
Cecilia winced.
