Lady Scarsdale’s birthdayball had an autumn theme. The decorations included colorful foliage, harvest turnips and pumpkins, and the countess served hot spiced wine along with delicious cakes and biscuits. But Sir Brian was there for his own purpose—to dance with Rachel Harding and learn more about why she had retreated from the world with her infamous school.
She’d given him a task—to dance with six ladies—in order to earn a place at her school. After one country dance with at least seven other women and men, he could safely say that he’d satisfied the requirement. He had no intention of finding a bride among them—not when he’d set his hopes on Rachel.
He saw her enter the ballroom with Cedric Gregor, her business partner. Brian was grateful to the man for his assistance in helping him become a student at the school. They had both suspected that Rachel would refuse, but Brian was willing to pay any price.
He understood that this was a Herculean task. He’d been helpless, years ago, to help Rachel when she’d been married to that monster. Now, he had the second chance he’d been waiting for—but he had to be so very careful not to frighten her. She’d been hurt so badly she might refuse him entirely.
Rachel wore a demure gown of dove gray, one that covered her arms. She wore another shawl over her shoulders, and she remained firmly in the background, watching over everyone. He could almost imagine her silently making lists of young ladies, just as Cedric was finding gentlemen who would become their future husbands.
He’d intended to ask her to dance, but when he saw the way she held herself back, remaining in the shadows, he sensed that she would say no. Breaking down the walls of pain and healing her invisible wounds would take time. And he didn’t know if she would grant him that time.
But when he looked at her, he saw more than a woman who had been hurt for so many years. He saw a survivor, someone who created happy endings for so many young women—the happy ending she’d never had for herself.
He walked through the ballroom and went to stand near her. “Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Harding?”
She appeared startled that he was speaking to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be speaking with six different young ladies?”
“And so I have. You are the seventh.”
“Have you found anyone who has caught your interest?” she asked.
He let his gaze meet hers. “I might.” Though he kept his expression vague, he was already looking at the object of his interest.
He admired how Rachel had transformed her life, seizing control and finding her path. All he wanted now was the chance to show her that he cared. And perhaps this time, she wouldn’t turn him away.
“Good,” she said. “We will speak of the young ladies in the morning. If you are fortunate, perhaps I can set up a way for you to pay a call upon them.” She stared straight ahead with a silent message for him to go away.
Instead, he remained at her side, surreptitiously studying the flushed curve of her cheek, the mahogany hair that was pulled up in a soft knot. Her eyes were a blend of gray and green, almost like the river on a foggy day. Those eyes held the weariness of a woman whose dreams had faded, one who had known only suffering for years. But there was also the strength of one who had endured and rebuilt a life for herself from the ashes.
She guarded her heart fiercely, and he didn’t know if he would ever win it. But he wanted to try.
*
Ireland
It was thenext afternoon before Emma was able to meet Nuala for tea. Yesterday, the older woman had been out shopping with Moreen, and she’d only returned this morning.
“Good afternoon, Emma.” Nuala’s voice was warm and welcoming when she joined her in the parlor for tea. “You look very well. How is Cormac faring?”
Although the matron’s words were friendly and held a note of concern, Emma remained cautious about believing the woman truly cared for her nephew. She didn’t know whether Nuala’s warmth was genuine or whether she viewed Cormac as an obstacle in the way of Lorcan’s inheriting the estate. She reminded herself that the purpose of having tea with Nuala was to learn what she could about Lorcan and the woman’s ambitions.
Emma rose from her seat and extended her hand to greet Cormac’s aunt. “He’s much better, thank you.”
“Will he be joining us for tea?”
“No, he is visiting some of the tenants, I believe.” Emma didn’t want to reveal his real location yet, especially when she wasn’t certain about Nuala’s intentions.
“Then perhaps I’ll see him tonight at supper,” his aunt said. They sat, and a moment later, a footman brought out the tea and refreshments. “Shall I pour?”
“Please,” she agreed. While Nuala poured, Emma chose a sandwich from the tray. Her stomach had been unsettled since this morning, and she’d slept poorly last night. The thought of breakfast had brought a wave of nausea, but she would force herself to eat something now. “How is your garden faring?”
Nuala took a sip of her tea. “Some of the cooler morning weather has threatened many of the plants. But I’ve transferred some into pots and have brought them inside for the autumn. There’s a great deal of light in the conservatory, so I tend them there.” She offered milk and sugar, and Emma took both.
The tea was warm and comforting, and she tasted peppermint that did soothe her stomach. When she nibbled at the sandwich bread, it did little to ease the ache. She forced herself to eat.
Nuala asked, “Will we be welcoming a new heir in the spring or early summer, perhaps?”
The direct words startled her. “No. Why would you ask?”
