Miss Winfield shot a bewildered glance over her shoulder at Heath before answering, “Sherry?”
Camellia stepped forward. “Cream first or jam first?”
“Jam,” Miss Winfield replied emphatically.
“You’re in.” Camellia looped her arm through Miss Winfield’s, and led her toward the rear sitting room. “We’ve made a place for you at our gaming table. Do you know how to count cards?”
Heath stepped into their path. “Now that Miss Winfield has been properly vetted, might she at least meet our parents before you abscond with her?”
A flicker of sympathy flashed across Camellia’s eyes.
Heath had his answer.
Father did not deem the occasion important enough to attend.
No matter. Heath ignored the twist in his heart. Father might bear the title, but Mother was the one who ran the family.
Heath offered his arm to Miss Winfield. Perhaps this was a boon. He would not have to worry about what Father thought of Heath being the next Grenville to break societal rules, after all. The baron was unlikely to take notice.
The five of them piled in behind Lady Roundtree and her footmen and streamed into the parlor.
When Mother greeted Lady Roundtree like the old friends they were, and spared not a glance toward Miss Winfield, Heath realized his sisters must not have informed their mother of the true purpose of today’s visit.
Perhaps that was a boon as well. He would introduce Miss Winfield to his mother, then give the extended family some space to get to know each other before causing an uproar with an official announcement.
“Mother, I would like to present Miss Eleanora Winfield. Miss Winfield, this is my mother, Lady Grenville.”
Miss Winfield executed a perfect curtsey.
Mother flashed a preoccupied smile and returned her focus to her conversation with Lady Roundtree.
“Now can we steal her away?” Bryony stage-whispered. “Mother won’t stop talking about hair ribbons for at least another hour.”
Heath offered his elbow to Miss Winfield before his sisters could deprive him of the privilege.
“Have you ever tossed half a deck of playing cards in someone’s face?” he asked politely.
“Just my brother’s,” she replied with a startled laugh. “But only because we didn’t have a whole deck.”
“She’s perfect!” Dahlia exclaimed and gave a little twirl in excitement.
They ushered her into the sibling sitting room.
“Heath invented the game,” Bryony confided. “But we made it better.”
Within moments of taking her seat at the gaming table, Miss Winfield was parrying words with the others and hiccupping with laughter as if she had been part of the family forever.
Heath’s pulse skipped. His future bride wouldn’t have to try to fit in—she already did. The afternoon quickly flew by.
“Guess what I have,” Camellia called in singsong.
“Not spades,” Dahlia groaned as cards fluttered about her head.
“I’m out.” Heath tossed his cards face down and leaned back in his chair to spend the rest of the round watching Miss Winfield’s animated expressions.
He had always believed it impossible to ever find a “perfect” woman. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Miss Winfield had been right in front of him all this time.
“Ha!” Bryony exclaimed as she scooped up a pile of hairpins they’d been using to wager. “Father would be so proud.”
