“What does my cosseted brother know of unrequited love?”
He held her gaze until she regretted her unthinking response. “Quite a bit, as it happens. But do not fret, Esme. I never expected you to notice.”
She bit down on her lip and voiced a suspicion she’d nursed since their days in the school room. “Mirrie?”
He nodded.
Mirabel, or Mirrie as she was known, was once their father’s ward and Frida’s closest confidant. She had accompanied Frida here to Ember Hall, long before Frida met Callum. Jonah had followed them soon after.
A fact which Esme had not really registered the significance of until this moment.
Mirrie was now married to their brother Tristan and expecting his first child.
“How long?” she asked softly, wondering if she was correct.
“Forever.” He smiled sadly. “But I always knew she held a torch for Tristan. And I never wanted to stand in the way of herhappiness. Forsooth, I even worked to bring them together.” He shook his head, as if amazed at his own foolishness.
Esme waited for a moment. “You must truly love her, if you put her happiness ahead of your own.”
“Wise words indeed, from a lady who has men falling in love with her wherever she goes.”
Jonah broke their air of intimacy and concentrated once more on his trencher, but she could tell he was no longer interested in breaking his fast.
“That is simply not true,” she said lightly, toying with a bunch of grapes.
“You dispute the fact that you have come here to escape the many suitors clamoring for your hand back at Wolvesley?”
She swallowed, unaccountably tempted to tell Jonah the truth. One confidence for another. “’Tis not only that.”
“But you admit to the clamoring suitors?”
“Oh Jonah.” She threw a grape at him, but it only bounced off the table. “Aye, I admit to the clamoring suitors. But they are dazzled by Father’s coin. Not by me. And if you saw fit to return to Wolvesley, there would be an equally long line of ladies eager for your acquaintance.”
“Because of Father’s coin?” His mouth was set in a grim line.
“Not only because of that,” she insisted.
“Do not feel as if you have to pretend. Why would any woman want to be shackled to me?”
Esme winced at the raw pain shining in her brother’s eyes. “Because you are handsome and clever.” She thought quickly. “You pen fine poems. I am certain you could woo whomever you wished, if you ever came out of hiding.”
Jonah folded his hands on the tabletop. She watched a tremor pass through them. “You are kind, Esme. ’Tis one of the reasons men fall in love with you.”
She shook her head, exasperated. “This again.”
“I am ofttimes an observer, not a participant. I fancy my skills of observation are sharp enough to be trusted. And I have observed the way that Adam looks at you.”
A thrill rippled through her core, which she quickly disguised as a shiver. She wrapped her arms about herself and pulled her legs toward her.
“Interesting outfit,” Jonah drawled.
“Practical,” she corrected him. “You are wrong about Adam. Perchance he is the only man I have ever met who makes no attempt to flatter me. ’Tis refreshing, actually.”
Jonah took a mouthful of ale. “Perchance you are not experienced enough to recognize the signs.”
Her cheeks burned at that. “Perchance I am more experienced in the ways of love than you might imagine.”
Silence fell between them and Esme fixed her gaze on the grooves in the trestle table.
