“Nothing.”
Ollie leaned against the hearth and rested one arm on the mantel. “As you said, we have known each other nearly our entire lives. You can’t hide your feelings from me. Tell me, Hanny. What is wrong?”
I gave a small shake of my head, embarrassed to admit the truth. “I thought you were still attending school at Cambridge. But you were living in London, same as me, and you didn’t call on me.”
“Is that all?” Ollie’s face softened into a smile. “I thought you were still living in Bath. You see? A simple misunderstanding. Had I known you were living in London again, you would have had to chase me off your front porch with a stick.”
Our townhouse did not exactly have a proper porch, only a top step—something he would have known had he bothered to call on me, but that was beside the point. Ollie had made an error. Simple as that. An easy enough thing to do, really . . . Although, hadn’t I written about the ordeal of moving again and sent express directions to write me at our London address? Perhaps my grief had been too profound for me to remember things correctly.
Ollie bent slightly, and catching my gaze, he smiled. “Forgive me?”
Devil take that dimple! I could never be cross with him when he smiled at me that way. “Always. I’m just glad we are together now.”
“Me too.”
At the drawing room door, the butler announced dinner. Lord and Lady Winfield led the procession into the dining hall. Damon set down his book and fell into line behind them, engaging Papa in polite conversation.
The formality took me by surprise. On my previous visits, we hadn’t entered the dining room by rank. But then again, Lord Winfield had rarely been in residence when I’d visited before. Perhaps things were different when he was home, or perhaps I’d merely forgotten.
Ollie offered me his arm. “May I escort you into the dining room?”
I took it eagerly. Too eagerly, judging by the reproving look Damon gave me, and Ollie led me into the corridor.
I frowned at the back of Damon’s head. “Is Damon always so . . . superior?” I asked Ollie.
“Always.” Ollie sighed theatrically. “My brother is a great lord, you know. Superiority, it seems, comes with the title.”
This earned another censuring look from Damon, which in turn resulted in laughter from Ollie and me.
We were all grown, but in this moment, it felt as if we were all children again. Being here with Ollie—and even Damon—my world swung back into balance.
A rainbow of tapestries decorated the wood-paneled walls of the dining hall, and the savory aroma of rosemary and garlic and butter floated in the air.
The seating arrangement at dinner was most agreeable—save for Damon sitting directly across from me. I’d need to be careful that he didn’t put any creeping things in my soup.
“I hear the weather has all but ruined the Season,” Lord Winfield said to Papa. “Tell me how this affects your dealings with the church, Kent.”
Papa dabbed his mouth and chin. “We have seen a slight decrease in the size of the congregation on Sundays,” he admitted.
Lord Winfield nodded. “I daresay God sent the rain to ruin us all.”
“Or perhaps he intends for us to reflect, not bring us to ruin, my lord.”
“Spoken like a true man of God.” Lord Winfield gave a derisive laugh. A laugh that shortly gave way to a deep cough.
“My lord?” Lady Winfield said. “Are you all right?”
“I have no need of a nursemaid, Elizabeth,” he said, and he chased away his cough with drink.
“Of course not. I was only going to suggest we turn the conversation to a topic that all present can take interest in.” She nodded toward me.
“You are quite right, my dear. What shall we discuss?” He chewed a bite of food. “Ah. I know just the thing: the Rumford Ball tomorrow night.”
“Yes.” Lady Winfield brightened. “Just this afternoon, Ollie requested the invitation be extended to our guests.”
I glanced at Ollie and whispered, “Is that where you were when I arrived?”
He flashed me a smile. “Finally, you have guessed correctly.”
