They began the first course of oxtail soup and red mullet.As Hannah dipped her spoon, she noticed Becky standing just outside the door, Danny in her arms. The baby—two fingers in his mouth and drooling away as usual—seemed content, so why had Becky brought him down? But the girl’s eyes were not seeking hers out. Rather they seemed fastened on Edgar Parrish, a dreamy smile on her impish face. Edgar did not seem to notice, his attention fully engaged by Mrs. Turrill’s excellent soup. But Nancy noticed. And frowned.
Oh dear.Inwardly, Hannah sighed.
She tried to catch the girl’s eye. And when Becky finally glanced her way, Hannah gave a little jerk of her head, signaling—she hoped—for the girl to move away from the door and stop ogling another woman’s man. Not that she had never done the same. Instead, one of the eager new footmen mistook it as his cue to lay the next course, though most were still spooning their soup. As the young man reached for Sir John’s bowl, Hannah quickly lifted a hand to forestall him, sending him an apologetic smile for good measure. Not a promising beginning.
Across the table, Mrs. Parrish smirked at her. Or perhaps Hannah was being overly sensitive.
To cover the mistake, Hannah opened the conversation, as perhaps Sir John should have done as host. She looked at Edgar and Nancy and asked brightly, “So, you two. What are your plans?”
It was the wrong question, evidently. Nancy turned to Edgar, who glanced at his mother. Seeing her forbidding expression, he looked into his soup. “Ah, we ... No specific plans at present. I have my hands full managing the properties and putting money aside, and...”
“Really, Lady Mayfield,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Don’t go putting ideas into their heads. They are still so young.”
“Don’t forget, my dear,” Dr. Parrish spoke up. “You married me when you were only a slip of a girl. Barely eighteen.”
Mrs. Parrish gave him a sour look. “I was too young to knowmy own mind. Just because my parents allowed me to rush headlong into marriage does not mean I must encourage my one and only son to follow the same rash course.”
Sheepish looks were exchanged, followed by silence as thick as clotted cream.
Nancy looked up first, her smile brave despite tear-bright eyes. “And what about you, my lady? Why do you not tell us how you met Sir John and about your courtship and wedding?” She gazed at Hannah hopefully.
Hannah appreciated the girl’s tact in trying to rescue the conversation, but she did not appreciate the specific question.
“Ah. Well.” She darted a glance at Sir John, hoping he might rescue her. He coolly met her gaze from the head of the table. Apparently not. “I ... am afraid there is not much to tell.”
“Come, my dear,” Sir John said. “If you won’t tell, then I shall have to do the honors.”
Did she hear gallantry in his tone, or threat?
When she said nothing, he began, “We met at a public ball in the Bristol assembly rooms.”
Then he did remember, Hannah realized. It was not a flattering memory for either of them, so they had never spoken of it.
Picking up the story, Hannah said lightly, “He refused to dance with me. Or at least he ignored the extremely overt hint that he should do so, from the man who introduced us.”
Sir John shrugged. “I never cared for dancing. Good thing.” He tapped his cane on the floor for emphasis and grinned wryly. “I suppose that’s one benefit of being lame—I shall finally have an excuse to decline that amusement.”
“Oh now, Sir John.” The doctor tucked his chin in gentle chastisement. “One never knows. With God and plenty of exercise...”
Nancy interrupted eagerly. “Did you know straightaway he was the one for you? Even though he didn’t ask you to dance?”
“Oh, em ... not then, no.”
From the vestibule came the sound of the front door opening and closing. Everyone turned to look. A moment later James Lowden passed by the dining parlor on his way through the house.
He drew up short at the sight of the well-lit and crowded room. “Oh. Sorry to interrupt. I forgot the dinner was tonight. You all go on with your meal.”
“You’re back early,” Hannah said.
“Yes. We concluded our transactions more quickly than anticipated.”
Hannah glanced at Sir John’s placid expression, then smiled politely at the newcomer. “You must join us, Mr. Lowden. I am sure there is room for another place. Is that not right, Mrs. Turrill?”
Mrs. Turrill hesitated. “If you wish it, of course, my lady. And plenty of food.”
James waved a dismissive hand. “That’s all right. I’ll have something later. I need to wash and change after being on the road.”
Sir John looked from her to his solicitor. “Come, Lowden. Join us. You may even sit by Lady Mayfield if you like.”
