Jane rolled her eyes. “Don’t tease.”
“I wasn’t teasing,” Richard said. “Not entirely.”
And just like that, the moment passed—swept away in humor and politeness. But Norman remained still, eyes fixed on the doorway, where Kitty had vanished.
Norman strode back toward the house, his jaw tight, and his breath shallow. The breeze had picked up, sharp and insistent as it pulled at his coat—an unwelcome echo of the turbulence within him. He took the stairs two at a time and entered through the east door, his boots echoing against the parquet floor.
She had left. She had truly left. Walked away from him without a glance.
He moved through the hallway with quiet urgency, glancing into the drawing room, the library, the side parlor—each one empty, echoing with quiet domestic life but none of it hers. No rustle of her skirts, no scent of her perfume, no careless laugh thrown over her shoulder.
He rounded the corner toward the music room and nearly collided with Eleanor, who stood before a sun-drenched window, leafing halfheartedly through a book she clearly wasn’t reading.
“Oh,” she said, startled. “You look as though you’ve misplaced a limb.”
He exhaled sharply. “I was looking for Kitty.”
“Ah.” She closed the book and tucked it beneath her arm. “Well, she’s not in here.”
“I gathered.” He raked a hand through his hair, then sighed. “I owe you an apology, Eleanor. I haven’t spent any time with you since everyone arrived. I promised you I would help make introductions—hell, I promised to help you find a husband.”
Eleanor tilted her head, her eyes kind. “And I never asked you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to. I’m your brother. It is my duty.”
She gave a short laugh. “I don’t wish to find a husband at your engagement party, Norman.”
He blinked. “You don’t?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I want to find love. Something natural. Or dramatic, if the world is feeling generous. Like you and Kitty.”
His brow furrowed. “We’re not—Kitty and I—whatever you think it is, it isn’t that.”
“Isn’t it?”
“She’s impossible,” he said, almost at once. “She’s maddening. She changes from moment to moment. One second she’s warm, the next she’s all ice and fire and mischief. I never know what she’s thinking. I never know what I’m thinking when I’m near her.”
Eleanor leaned against the wall, smiling faintly. “Sounds like love to me.”
Norman gave a dry, incredulous laugh. “If it is, it’s a thoroughly inconvenient variety.”
“I don’t think love is supposed to be convenient,” Eleanor replied. “I think it’s supposed to be the kind of thing that unravels you a little. That makes you feel foolish, and lost, and brave, all at once.”
He turned away, staring out of the tall window behind her. “Well, then I’m well on my way to complete idiocy.”
“You’re not an idiot,” she said gently. “Just in love. Which is nearly the same thing. Now come on…the rehearsal is about to start.”
Eleanor grabbed his arm and led him toward the drawing room.
Seventeen
Slowly, the entire group assembled in the drawing room, the air thick with the peculiar energy of amateur theatricals—a mingling of dread and exhilaration that set nerves alight.
Norman lingered near the window, arms folded behind his back, listening more than speaking as the guests settled in. Kitty stood beside Richard and Jane, completely silent, eyes unfocused, as if she was merely physically present, while her soul lingered somewhere in a distant dream.
She had a way of unraveling him that no one else ever had. Why did his thoughts turn so utterly irrational whenever she was near? It was absurd. He had never felt this way before—this restless, this lost. Perhaps he was losing his mind. Or perhaps she was the one driving him to madness.
He fixed his gaze on the golden spill of sunset beyond the window, refusing to let his eyes stray in her direction. If he so much as glanced at her, he wasn’t sure he could stop himselffrom crossing the room and kissing her—again and again and again, consequences be damned.
