Winifred sighed as they sat down.
“I think it began when he rode past us at the head of his cavalrymen at Trooping the Colour,” she said. “Though I could see only the lower half of his face and was most struck by the firmness of his jaw and the cruelty of his mouth.”
“Ah,” Mama said. “A promising beginning to a romance.”
“Yes,” Winifred said, not hearing the irony in her mother’s voice. “I believe it started to happen then. And the next time I saw him, at Aunt Anna’s ball, I told him I had thought his mouth cruel, and he looked haughtily at me and bore me off at suppertime to sit opposite him at a private table while he interrogated me on myeligibility to marry his brother. And he was scornful when I told him, not quite accurately, that I was opposed to all warfare and could not approve of his way of life.”
“Oh dear me,” her mother said. “You tell such a delicious love story.”
“Yes,” Winifred said dreamily.
—
Nicholas was too restless to go to his room. He wandered back to the ballroom, where the Berrys and various other people were busy doing some essential cleanup jobs, though the bulk of the work would be done by a larger group of volunteers tomorrow.
“No, no,” Jim Berry said, making shooing gestures with his hands when Nicholas offered his help. “We can manage, thank you, sir.”
Nicholas guessed his offered help was seen as more of a hindrance. He stood in the doorway on the other side of the room, one shoulder propped against the frame.
“Dreaming, Nick?” Owen asked, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Afraid you will not sleep?”
“After such a busy day?” Nicholas said. “It would be strange if I could not.”
“So,” Owen said. “You and Winifred Cunningham?”
Ah. Someone had noticed, then.
“We went walking outside instead of going in for supper,” he said. “Neither of us was hungry, and the air was cool.”
“You are not dangling after her, are you, Nick?” Owen asked. “Toying with her feelings? She has a tender heart, I would have you know. My guess is she can be easily hurt.”
Hell and damnation.
“You do care after all, then, do you?” Nicholas asked.
“Of course I care,” Owen said, frowning indignantly at him. “And I will not have you using your famous charm on her, Nick, only to ignore her tomorrow and maybe break her heart.”
“A poor opinion you have of me,” Nicholas said. “When have I ever been a deliberate heartbreaker, Owen?”
“Probably more times than you realize,” Owen said. “Leave her alone, Nick. Though it is probably too late now to save her from being hurt.”
“It is not possible, you think, that I mean honorably by her?” Nicholas asked. “That I love her and intend to marry her?”
“Highly unlikely,” Owen said. “I am devilish fond of her, Nick, but it is as plain as the nose on your face that she is not your type.”
“My type being?” Nicholas asked. He was starting to feel annoyed.
“Well. Beautiful for starters,” Owen said. “Voluptuous.”
“To me she is the most beautiful woman in the world,” Nicholas said.
“Eh?” his brother said inelegantly.
“And you had better not come out with any other implied insults,” Nicholas said. “I may be tempted to plant you a facer. She is my lady, Owen.”
His brother stared at him, openmouthed. “Well, the devil,” he said.
“You missed your chance a few days ago,” Nicholas said. “Now you may mind your own dashed business.”
