And had his first words to her after more than a day apart truly been a comment on the weather?
“Yes,” she managed to reply. “It has been very dry.”
Reed wore the same smile as when he’d first stepped inside. There was nothing particularly personal in it. “I understand the Hombolts’ ball is this evening.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “It is indeed.” She didn’t entirely manage to keep the eagerness from her voice. “Are you planning to attend?”
He shrugged a bit as he reached for a cucumber sandwich. “It will, no doubt, be a terrible crush. Any gentleman with a modicum of sense will stay home.”
“Oh.” What could she say beyond that? He didn’t mean to attend. Perhaps he thought she wasn’t attending. That would certainly explain it. “I am quite looking forward to the Hombolts’ ball.”
He made a vague sound of acknowledgment. “This cucumber sandwich is excellent.” Reed turned his attention to Mother. “An exceptional sandwich, Mrs. Harris.”
“Why, thank you.” Mother’s eyes darted to Lucy, a look of triumph in her eyes. Did she honestly think Reed’s complement of her tea offerings was a sign of success?
“Well, ladies.” Reed stood and took in the room with a quick sweep of his gaze. “It has been a pleasure visiting with you all.”
And with that, he left. Two days apart, and Reed visited with her only for two minutes and spoke only of the weather and cucumber sandwiches. What an utter disappointment.
She rose from her chair. “If you will excuse me, Mother,” she said quickly, and left the drawing room with as much dignity as she could summon.
The moment she reached the corridor, she took up a brisk pace, rushing up the stairs to her bedchamber. She hurried to her window, drew back the curtains, and looked down at thestreet below. Reed walked from the house at a leisurely pace, swinging his walking stick as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
She pressed her open hand to the glass, watching him leave her behind without a single backward glance. “Haven’t you missed me at all?” she whispered.
***
“I am not convinced this is a wise course of action.” Reed resisted his brother-in-law’s efforts to nudge him into the Hombolts’ ballroom.
“Nonsense,” Robert insisted. “Everything is working perfectly.”
Perfectly?If everything was so perfect, why was he keeping company with his brother-in-law instead of his wife? Reed considered that a significant step in the wrong direction.
“Stick with the plan, Reed,” Robert said. “You’ll not only settle your current contretemps, but you’ll save yourself a great deal of misery down the road.” Robert gave him a significant look. “You’re a married man now. If you don’t put your foot down, you’ll soon become extremely well-acquainted with misery.”
“That is a fine thing to say about your own sister.”
“You are the one who married her and turned her into awife. She was a fine, sensible sort of lady before that.” Robert gave him one final nudge, forcing him into the ballroom. “Time to face down the dragon.”
Reed straightened the cuffs of his jacket. “First she’s a wife, and now she’s a dragon. How much worse can this get?”
“Your mother-in-law is approaching,” Robert answered.
“So quite a bit worse.” He shot Robert a grin.
Robert laughed as they walked around the edge of the ballroom. “Mother isn’t as terrible as some.”
True. He was exceptionally fond of Lucy’s family, even if its ladies were currently making life difficult for him.
“Mrs. Harris,” he said. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you again.”
She smiled. “I know the look of a suitor when I see one. I daresay you’ve come to ask permission to dance with our Lucy.”
Robert pierced him with a significant look. Reed gave a subtle nod. He knew his part. “I am promised already for the next several dances,” he said. “But should I have dance free before I quit the ball, I will be certain to seek your daughter out.”
Mrs. Harris’s eyes pulled wide with shock. Reed offered a very appropriate bow and took leave of his mother-in-law. He glanced back only briefly. Robert, who still stood by his mother, gave him a firm nod of approval. Their plan was moving along nicely.
Why, then, do I feel so utterly dissatisfied?
