“Mandie.” Thomas rolled the syllables around on his tongue as if tasting them. “Why, the possibilities are endless. Candy, dandy, handy...er, perhaps not that last one.” He flashed her a cheeky grin.
The taller brother rolled his eyes heavenward. “Please pay no mind to my ridiculous sibling. The rest of us do try to comport ourselves with some modicum of dignity.”
She couldn’t help a genuine smile. How refreshing to be among people who could laugh and tease without ulterior motives. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so daunting after all.
A door opened beside the staircase, and Enoch stepped into view, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He must have come from washing up, for his damp hair slicked back from his forehead, and water still glistened on his large, work-stained hands.
He joined the group, his sharp blue gaze fixed on her. “Mrs. Beaumont? Should you be out of bed?”
Up close, she could see the fine lines etched around his eyes and mouth, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. Her insides gave a tiny flutter, and she had the sudden, mad urge to reach out and smooth the furrow between his dark brows.
But instead, she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes steadily. “Bea said I could join everyone for the evening meal if I felt upto it. And after being confined to bed all day, I find myself quite eager for companionship.”
Enoch’s head tipped as something like curiosity touched his gaze. But then his expression settled. “I see. Well, if Mrs. Wang thinks it wise...” He trailed off, his gaze flickering over her as if assessing her condition for himself.
James cleared his throat. “We were just welcoming Mrs. Beaumont to the table, Enoch. No need to look so grim about it.”
“I’m not grim.” Enoch’s jaw tightened. “Merely surprised. And concerned for our guest’s well-being.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Come off it, Enoch. The lady says she’s feeling better. Let her enjoy a meal without you hovering like a mother hen.”
A tense silence fell over the room. Mandie glanced between the brothers, sensing the undercurrents of old resentments and unspoken grief.
Thomas caught her eye and flashed a conspiratorial wink, as if to say,Don’t mind the old bear. We’ll have some fun yet.
Finally, Enoch let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing a little. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me, Mrs. Beaumont. It’s not been easy of late.” He gestured toward the dining room. “Please, allow me to escort you to the table.”
Mandie hesitated only a moment before stepping forward and placing her hand on his offered arm. A very solid, very warm arm. The contact sent an unexpected frisson through her, and she had to force herself to breathe. What was it about this man that unsettled her so?
As they walked the short distance to the dining room, she was acutely aware of his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he shortened his stride to match hers.
This was no different than any dinner party back in Savannah.
Yet this wasn’t Savannah.
She was being escorted to dinner by a veritable stranger in a sprawling Montana ranch house. Still, somehow this felt comfortable. And pleasant. Maybe even exciting.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a low, almost conversational voice. “Mrs. Wang seems quite taken with you.”
She allowed a smile. The housekeeper had brought a tray of fragrant tea and still-warm scones that afternoon. They’d talked for nearly an hour, Bea sharing some of her own history, how she emigrated from China to England as a young girl, then married Mr. Wang and the two came to work for the Balfour family. She’d asked about Mandie’s past too, and it had felt good to share. Not all the smaller details, but the main facts. Her parents, her father’s governmental work, Nicholas and his death.
Bea’s eyes had glistened when Mandie shared that last part, and she’d taken Mandie’s hand.I’m so sorry, dear. I know words don’t ease the pain, but I’d love to hear more about him when you’re ready.Both of them were widows, it seemed. One more bond they shared.
“She’s been very kind to me. She has a way of seeing what other people miss.”
Something shifted in Enoch’s expression then, a minute crack in his stoic façade. His arm twitched beneath her hand. “She does.” His voice came out a little gruffer than usual. “She’s always seen straight through my bluster.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he glanced her way.
Not a full smile, but her heart gave a little flip. How would he look if he truly grinned? If he gave himself over to joy or laughter or abandon? A part of her yearned to find out, to dig past the layers of grief and duty and reservation until she unearthed the man beneath.
But those thoughts would only lead downward.
They’d reached the dining room, where the table had been laid with clean white China and sparkling silver, a bounty that seemed at odds with the rustic simplicity of the house itself.
Enoch paused as he studied the chairs, his brow furrowed as if confronted with a vexing riddle. Then he led her to the chair beside the head and pulled it out for her.
She sank into the proffered seat with a murmur of thanks, watching from the corner of her gaze as Enoch took the seat to her right at the head of the table. He stared at the empty plate before him, as though he’d never seen one like it before.
The younger Balfours filed in behind them, their earlier joviality tempered by something Mandie couldn’t quite put a name to. Each eyed Enoch as they found their chairs. Surprise seemed to be the common theme, but she couldn’t for the life of her determine why. What had Enoch done so differently tonight than his usual?
