Malcolm tried to catch Viola’s eye, but she studiously avoided his gaze.
What had she said when they parted earlier?We both have some thinking to do.
Had she decided against even maintaining a friendship with him? Reasoning that if they did not intend to carry their relationship to its logical, marital end, then they should cease speaking altogether?
A wheezing panic settled into Malcolm’s chest, as if he had taken the mountains surrounding Laverloch at a run.
Theoretically, this was the outcome he had wanted, was it not? After all, a romantic relationship was an all-or-nothing proposition. And if he felt they should be nothing to one another, then this was how things had to be.
And yet, the frantic whipping lash of his pulse implied precisely the opposite.
19
Had any dinner ever gone on for so long?Viola wondered.
She was quite sure she had been sitting for weeks at this table.
And yet, the clock—placed directly opposite at eye level, as if to better mock her—showed that scarcely an hour had passed.
The guests chatted and laughed. Cutlery clinked against china dishes. A lady giggled. Lord Hadley smiled politely at something Kendall said to his right. Lady Hadley and Sir Rafe were speaking with Malcolm at the other end of the table.
Viola, sitting precisely in the middle, had never felt less merry. The tense conversations from earlier in the day had cast a pall over her mood. How could they not? In the space of just a few hours, her future had hidden itself behind a foggy wall as impenetrable ashaarrolling ashore from the North Sea.
How was she to navigate her life now? When all familiar landmarks—her father’s affections, her hopes for romantic love, her desire to write on topics of her own choosing—were now shrouded and indistinct.
She fanned herself.
Light streamed into the room, the last gasp of the sinking sun. The attending footman had drawn translucent shades to block the worst of the glare through the terrace doors, but the shimmery curtains did nothing to block the heat. The room had warmed several degrees over the past hour.
At Viola’s elbow, Ethan kept up a steady stream of conversation, on everything from his love of a good walking stick to the beauty of foliage in autumn.
His attentions had been more marked than usual this evening. He had raced to her side the moment she arrived and hadn’t left it since. Viola fretted over the frank conversation she had to have with him tomorrow. But if anything, his eager behavior made it imperative that she curtail his affections before they progressed further.
Across from her, Mrs. Ruxton regarded Viola and Ethan sitting side-by-side, smiled widely, and abruptly exclaimed for the ninth time—yes, Viola was counting—
“I say, Lord Hadley, what a bonnie couple Miss Brodure and Mr. Penn-Leith make!” The lady’s glib tongue was insatiable this evening.
Both Hadley and Kendall looked at Viola and Ethan . . . also for the ninth time.
“Indeed, Mrs. Ruxton,” Lord Hadley boomed, a smile on his lips. “We have all agreed on that point, have we not?”
Kendall met Viola’s gaze with a sardonic lilt of his eyebrows.
“Yes, Hadley,” the duke said, words soverydry and monotone, “but surely it bears repeating.”
Viola ducked her head, a blush painting her cheeks cherry red. Her breathing constricted.
Lord Hadley laughed good-naturedly, either oblivious to the undercurrents racing like escaped geese around the table, or more likely, choosing to ignore them like the sensible person he appeared to be.
Viola lifted her head for the briefest moment, her gaze unerringly finding Malcolm’s at the other end of the table.
Forgoing his habitual kilt, Malcolm had arrived in the evening dress of a London gentleman. He wore his black evening coat and loose trousers with an easy grace, the hallmarks of a man comfortable in his own skin. To Viola’s endless frustration, the sight had sent a flutter of excited butterflies skimming her stomach.
She refused to lose herself in contemplating Malcolm Penn-Leith’s broad shoulders and enticing lips.
Her father’s words from earlier rang in her head—
Actions reveal the true intent of our hearts more than words ever could.
