Samantha turned her attention to Mr. Morris while Ben conversed with Mrs. Davies, wife of one of Grandpapa’s Swansea friends, on his other side. But before the first course was finished, Mrs. Fisher, wife of Grandpapa’s physician from Tenby, claimed Mr. Morris, and Samantha glanced at Ben. He was gazing steadily back.
“You are in fine looks, Samantha,” he said. “Finer than fine, in fact, even if you are looking a little less sun-bronzed than when I last saw you.”
He was looking very fine too in his black form-fitting evening coat, gold-embroidered waistcoat, and gleaming white linen. His starched shirt points were high but not ridiculously so. His neckcloth was tied in an intricate style that had drawn glances of envy from two of the younger male guests in the drawing room earlier. A single diamond winked from its folds.
“You have changed.” She leaned a little toward him. “You have found what you were looking for, have you not? Down a coal mine.”
He smiled at that. “There are worse places,” he said, “though I cannot for the life of me think of any.”
She had always loved his smile. It was the expression she had remembered best through the past months, she realized. He had white, even teeth, and his eyes narrowed slightly and crinkled into laugh lines at the outer corners.
“You are happy?” she asked him.
“I have enjoyed the experience,” he told her. “And I have learned a great deal from it, both about the job and about myself.”
“Whatabout yourself?”
“Mainly,” he said, “that I can work with my handicap rather than let it work against me. Indeed, I do not even think of it as a handicap any longer.”
She beamed at him and leaned slightly to one side while a servant removed her plate.
“But do you intend to keep working for Grandpapa?” she asked.
He seemed to give his answer some thought while his own plate was being removed. “That depends,” he said.
“Upon?”
“Oh, no.” He laughed softly. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
Mr. Morris touched her arm at that moment and she turned to listen to what he had to say.
Upon her? Was that what he had meant?
And this was not the time and place forwhat?
Sometimes life seemed like one big tease.
What it depended upon was whether or not she would have him.
Ben had known that from the start, but he had been confirmed in his decision since arriving here this afternoon. He had known as soon as he set eyes upon her again that he would not be able to bear any association with her, even with her grandfather, if she would not marry him. He would rather go away, back to England, and start again. Though he would not be right back where he had been for three years after leaving Penderris. He knew now where his interests lay and what sort of life suited him best. It would be a dreary life, at least for a while, if there was no Samantha and no hope of her, but he would survive.
Outside guests began arriving soon after dinner, and Ben moved into the ballroom. He had seen it before, when Bevan gave him and Samantha a tour of the house. It had seemed a grand room even then. Now it looked quite magnificent enough to belong to a London mansion. The chandeliers were filled with candles, all of them burning—a splendid extravagance. Holly and ivy and pine boughs were draped everywhere, giving the effect of an indoor Christmas garden. Smells of the greenery and of cider and mulled wine from an anteroom added to the festive atmosphere.
Ben took a seat—he was using his canes this evening—and looked around at it all. His eye paused on a few sprigs of mistletoe hanging from some of the window recesses, and he smiled.
Samantha stood inside the door with her grandfather, receiving the guests. Ben recognized a few of them. She looked nothing short of stunning tonight in her royal blue gown, her hair piled high in elaborate curls and ringlets. His eyes moved down her shapely figure. He had waited for her letter for a month or two after leaving here, but it had never come. He had been glad of it, though part of him had been disappointed too.
She seemed to know everyone. She was flushed and laughing, and she occasionally turned to say something to Bevan. Ben was glad she had not held aloof from him out of some sense of loyalty to her mother. She needed him. Her husband’s family had offered her no love. Neither had her half brother or any of her relatives on her father’s side.
She looked happy. The thought gave him a bit of a pang.
Someone was beaming down at him, hand extended.
“Major Harper,” the Reverend Jenkins said. “Thisisa pleasure.”
His wife, wearing a hideous headful of plumes, beamed and nodded at his side.
No London hostess would be entirely pleased, Ben thought when everyone had arrived and the orchestra members were busy tuning their instruments. The gathering could hardly be called a grand squeeze. Nevertheless, the ballroom was pleasingly crowded and everyone would have space to dance, while those who sat or stood on the sidelines would have a clear view of the dancing.
