But Luke ended the embrace and took a step back. He set his hands on Ashley’s shoulders. “By God, Ash, it really is you. What the devil?” He patted his brother’s shoulders as if to assure himself of the reality of his presence. “What the bloody devil?” Clearly he had forgotten his surroundings.
Ashley, facing into the ballroom, had become suddenly aware of them. Noise, or rather the surprising lack of noise considering the occasion and the largeness of the gathering, assaulted his ears. He was aware of people, of the very public nature of this reunion. He was aware of Anna, who came hurrying up behind Luke, looking scarcely a day older than when he had left and every bit as lovely, looking as sweet and as sunny as she had ever looked.
“Ashley,” she said, and Luke stood aside and she was in his arms. “Oh, Ashley, my dear, you are home.”
And then his mother was there, looking her usual composed, dignified self even though her eyes were wide with surprise. He had recovered some of his control and bowed formally over her hands and kissed her cheeks.
“Madam,” he said, “you are looking well.”
And then a lady in pink satin and silver lace was hurtling across the room and throwing herself into his arms, and he closed his eyes again briefly as he hugged his sister to himself.
“Ashley.” She said his name over and over again. “Oh, Ashley, you wretch. You have not written to any of us for over a year, so that we have been almost beside ourselves with worry. And all the time you have been coming home. How could you!”
Doris, Lady Weims, looked a vibrant and lovely woman rather than the pretty, sometimes petulant girl she had been when he left. She had married Andrew, the Earl of Weims, five years ago. They had two children.
But Luke was recovering control of both himself and the situation. He turned to face his guests in the ballroom and raised his arms, though the gesture was unnecessary. The attention of almost everyone was already focused upon the drama playing itself out in the doorway.
“My apologies for the delay in the festivities,” he said. “As you can see, Lord Ashley Kendrick has arrived home from India unexpectedly. You will pardon my family group for withdrawing for a few minutes? The music will resume as soon as the sets have formed.” He nodded to the leader of the orchestra.
“Ashley.” Anna had taken his arm and was leading him away from the ballroom. “Where have you left Lady Ashley—Alice? And Thomas? Are they downstairs? Or did you have Cotes or Mrs. Wynn show them to a room?”
He was aware of his family about him. A stranger had joined Doris—presumably Weims. They were all beaming with happiness. They were in the middle of celebrating a new baby’s christening with a ball. And he was tired. Bone weary. Soul weary.
“My wife and son are at a hotel in London,” he said. “They were exhausted after the long voyage. I came on alone. I wanted to come home.”
He was desperately tired. Perhaps tomorrow there would be peace. Not tonight. There was too much turmoil tonight.
Perhaps tomorrow.
•••
Ahand touched her elbow and she came back from a long way away to find herself standing in the ballroom at Bowden Abbey. Lord Powell was smiling at her and gesturing to the sofa beside her. She sat.
He stood looking down at her, his hands clasped at his back. The hilt of his dress sword, she noticed, was studded with rubies. They did not match his coat. But perhaps, unlike Luke, he did not have a sword to match each outfit. Or perhaps, unlike Luke, he was not so meticulous about such matters.
He bent forward and waited for her eyes to focus on his lips. “Her grace will not now be here to dance with me,” he said. “I may spend the time sitting here talking with you, Lady Emily.”
She nodded, not quite sure to what she was agreeing.
“If ’tis your wish,” he said. “If you do not consider it improper. Or an imposition. If you have not promised to spend the time with another gentleman.”
She shook her head and he seated himself beside her again. He smiled. He looked very pleased with himself. She wished he would go away. She wished she could be alone. Lips moved wherever she looked but she could understand nothing. She was like an alien in an alien country.
She did not want Ashley to come home. Not now. Not ever.
“Lord Ashley Kendrick?” Lord Powell was saying. “From India? He is his grace’s brother, is he not?”
She nodded. Yes, Ashley. Yes. But she did not want it to be Ashley.
“What a happy chance,” Lord Powell said, “that he has arrived tonight of all nights. They all seem exceedingly happy.”
She nodded. She wanted simply to close her eyes, to shut out everything.
“I have observed,” he said, “that this is a close and loving family, Lady Emily. You must consider yourself fortunate to be a part of it.”
Yes. Yes, Ashley was home.
Lord Powell leaned a little closer. “I am reminded of my own family,” he said. “You will find—youwouldfind a similar closeness with us, Lady Emily.”
