“No, when I was still a young man and living in London.” He sat forward, suddenly earnest. “I loved her with everything in me, Miss Merriweather, would have given her the moon had she asked.”
Rosalind, though taken aback by such a statement, felt all the heartache behind it. “What happened?”
“She loved another.”
The words were simple, and simply said. But there was a wealth of emotion behind them.
A maid arrived then with a tray, and immediately Rosalind went to work preparing the tea.
“I always feel utterly useless waiting to be served,” Mr. Carlisle said while she busied herself. “We kept a skeleton staff in the country and so I have learned to do for myself. I find I actually prefer it, keeping busy and all. Why don’t I fill our plates in the meantime?”
“I would like that very much,” Rosalind replied. As he went to work, stacking biscuits and bits of fruit on the small bone china plates provided, Rosalind snuck considering looks at him. Truly, the man was the most pleasant, accommodating person. He was a true gentleman. Not at all like that Lord Kingston and his wicked smiles. Would that Tristan had chosen such a person for Miss Weeton, and not a rogue of the first order.
A thought hit her then, like a lightning bolt. But wait, why couldn’t Miss Weeton be paired with Mr. Carlisle? And wouldn’t it be the best way to foil Tristan’s plans? Goodness knows her attempts at befriending the girl had failed miserably. There was no chance she would get in the girl’s confidence to warn her away from Lord Kingston.
But Miss Weeton could be given an alternative.
“Mr. Carlisle,” Rosalind said as nonchalantly as she could manage, considering the excitement that was bubbling up inside her. “I think your father is right, in that you should begin looking for a bride.”
He stilled, a buttery shortbread suspended from his fingers. “Do you really?”
“Certainly,” she said, placing the teapot down and pouring a generous amount of milk into the cup as Mr. Carlisle had indicated he liked. “And I do believe you will find someone to care for again. It is simply a matter of putting yourself out there and making yourself available.”
He passed her one of the plates, piled high with delicacies, then accepted the cup from her. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh yes, most definitely. As a matter of fact, I think it’s best to start right away. To give yourself the best chance for success, of course.”
He sipped at his tea, considering her. “You know, Miss Merriweather, I think you may be right. But where in the world do I start?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She pretended to consider the matter deeply for a time before blurting, “Perhaps the theatre? Tonight?”
“Tonight?” His brows drew together. “Do you truly think so?”
“Certainly.” She sipped at her tea as he chewed on a biscuit thoughtfully. “The theatre is the perfect place to see and be seen, you know. Or so I’ve heard. You do like the theatre, I presume?”
“Oh, most definitely,” Mr. Carlisle replied with feeling. “I have not been in some time. It was a favorite pastime of mine before I left London. There is nothing quite like immersing oneself in the pageantry and art of a performance.” He looked wistful for a moment.
Truly, she could not guide the man more easily if she tried. She might have felt guilty at manipulating him in such a way if she wasn’t absolutely certain what she was doing was right. “I have every hope that I can convince Lady Belham to attend the theatre, and I’m sure she would love to have you there.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes. Most definitely.”
And as he declared his delight at the prospect and they made short work of the delicious spread the cook had provided, Rosalind found she was looking forward to the proposed evening with as much, if not more, excitement than her friend. It was due to thwarting Tristan’s plans, she told herself. But deep inside she knew, with a kind of fatalistic dread, that she couldn’t wait to seehimagain.
