Goldie stepped forward. “You were expecting my sister,” she interrupted, willing herself to breathe normally. “I’m afraid you’re to be disappointed.”
“She will return soon?” His brows crinkled, but his expression was all politeness.
“She is in mourning, my lord.” Goldie flicked her gaze to the black band on Lord Standish’s arm as she uttered the lie. And then she added, “I am sorry for your loss. Won’t you sit down?”
He glanced around the room as though contemplating making his excuses, but when Goldie settled herself on the loveseat, he had no choice but to sit as well.
Looking rather stiff, he took the chair facing her.
Goldie arranged her skirts, again wishing her bodice was a little looser. Or did she struggle for breath because of this man’s presence?
She twisted her hands in her lap and forced her expression into one that she hoped looked sympathetic rather than adoring. Stifling a nervous giggle at the thought, Goldie bit her lip.
She would keep her dignity throughout this meeting. The poor man had recently suffered a horrid tragedy.
It didn’t matter that she’d not been overly impressed with the four gentlemen who’d perished; they’d been his kin.
His father. His brother. His cousin and his uncle—the former earl. It really was unimaginable.
But Goldie had spent several hours mooning over this particular man last summer at the house party.
Even back then, knowing he was an estate manager, she’d found Mr. Reed Rutherford to be inordinately attractive. Now, dressed in attire fitting of his new station this morning, snug breeches, elegant coat, and perfectly tied cravat, he was simply…
Beautiful.
She couldn’t help but notice how perfectly his waistcoat matched his eyes.
Even brighter than the bluebells.
She sighed.
But now he was here, seated before her. And, unfortunately, they’d been seated for nearly a minute in silence. Goldie resisted the urge to squirm.
Why did he need to talk to Nia?
“How are Miss Rutherford and your other sisters? And your mother?” she asked. He had three younger sisters, but she couldn't remember all their names. No doubt they would have remained in the country to fulfill a proper mourning period.
“She is Lady Caroline now.” Lord Standish frowned as though answering her question required great concentration. “She, Lady Melanie, Lady Josephine, and my mother are as well as can be expected. They traveled with me to London, in fact.”
Goldie blushed at her blunder. With Mr. Rutherford inheriting the title, all of their lives had changed. “But they cannot go out in public.” Surely they didn’t intend to participate in the Season?
“Because of the rumors?” he asked. Was that a hint of a snarl?
“Because they are in mourning,” Goldie provided.
“Ah, yes,” he answered vaguely before falling silent again.
Goldie glanced at the clock on the mantel. But where were her manners? “Would you care for tea?” she asked.
Her father would not appreciate her inviting this man to extend his stay, but she refused to be rude. And already, she had no doubt that Mr. Bulwark, the butler, would be chastised for allowing Goldie to even meet with him.
Alone, no less.
If her father had been at home, he’d have tossed Lord Standish out before he could set foot inside. Because there were, indeed, rumors—unmentionable ones.
But Lord Standish didn’t seem interested in tea.
“Do you know where I can find Lady Gardenia?” He looked anxious.
