But he had not moved her, after all.
***
Dinner proceeded with all the ceremony and ritual that such occasions demanded. The first course was served, then the second, then the third, each accompanied by the appropriate wines and the gentle hum of conversation. Daniel fulfilled his duties as host with mechanical precision; directing the servants, proposing toasts, drawing out the more reticent guests with practised questions about their families and their farms.
And all the while, he watched Lillian.
He watched her laugh at something the vicar said—a genuine laugh, warm and unguarded, that made the vicar beam with pleasure. He watched her lean close to Mrs. Hobbs, listening with apparent fascination to what was surely a tedious account of someone's ailments or someone else's scandal. He watched her turn to old Mr. Garrett and speak to him in a voice pitched perfectly to penetrate his failing hearing, drawing from him stories of Wynthorpe's history that Daniel himself had never heard.
She moved through the evening like water through a stream; adapting to each companion, finding the approach that would set them at ease, leaving each person she spoke with feeling somehow more valued than they had felt before.
It was a gift. A rare and genuine gift. And Daniel found himself increasingly fascinated by it.
"She is quite something, is she not?"
The vicar's voice came from Daniel's left, pitched low enough that it would not carry to other guests. Daniel forced himself to look away from Lillian, though the effort was considerable.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Miss Whitcombe." The vicar smiled, his round face creased with benevolent observation. "She has a way of making everyone feel important. It is a talent one does not often encounter."
"She is a friend of my sister's."
"So I understand. Lady Rosanne seems quite devoted to her. It is good to see your sister with such a companion. She has always seemed rather alone, if you will forgive my saying so."
Daniel stiffened slightly. "Rosanne has many acquaintances."
"Acquaintances, yes. But friends? True friends, who value her for herself rather than for her connection to you?" The vicar shook his head gently. "Miss Whitcombe appears to be the genuine article. Lady Rosanne is fortunate to have found her."
"Indeed," Daniel said quietly. "She is."
"And you, Your Grace?" The vicar's tone was light, casual—too casual. "Have you also found Miss Whitcombe's company agreeable?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "She is a pleasant enough young woman."
"Pleasant." The vicar's eyebrows rose slightly. "Yes, I suppose that is one word for it."
"What word would you use?"
"I?" The vicar smiled with an innocence that Daniel did not believe for a moment. "I would use the word 'remarkable.' But then, I have always been given to excessive enthusiasm. It is a failing of the clerical temperament, I am told."
Before Daniel could formulate a response, and he was not at all certain what that response might have been, the vicar's wife claimed her husband's attention with a question about Sunday's sermon, and Daniel was left to his own thoughts.
Remarkable.
That was true. That was a word for her. Miss Lillian Whitcombe was remarkable; in her intelligence, in her composure, in the quiet way she had inserted herself into the fabric of Wynthorpe life until her absence would leave a noticeable gap.
He watched her now, across the length of the table, as she listened to Rosanne describe something with animated gestures. Lillian's expression was attentive, interested, touched with a warmth that made Daniel's chest feel suddenly too tight.
She caught him watching.
Their eyes met across the table, a moment only, a fraction of a heartbeat, but in that instant, Daniel felt as though the rest of the room had simply ceased to exist. There was only Lillian, with her steady gaze and her slight, questioning smile, and the unbearable awareness that he was in very great trouble indeed.
He looked away first.
He had to. If he had continued to hold her gaze, he would have…….He did not know what he would have done. But it would have been noticed. It would have been remarked upon. The entire county would have been buzzing with gossip by morning.
She is your sister's friend, he reminded himself fiercely.She is a country neighbour of modest means. She is entirely unsuitable for anything more than casual acquaintance.
