“Mmm.” Nora studied him with the disconcerting patience she had inherited from their mother. “And Penelope? How are you both getting along?”
Cecil met her gaze very steadily. “She has been helpful. As I knew she would be. She has a good eye for character and she knows the social landscape well.”
“Just that?”
“Just that.” Cecil sighed, feeling tired.
Nora looked at Godric, and her husband wordlessly turned a page.
“She is a wonderful person,” Nora said, shifting tack so smoothly it took Cecil a moment to register the movement. “I think sometimes people underestimate her because she has a great deal of spirit and she doesn't trouble herself to soften it for people who haven't earned the effort. But once you have — you’ll learn there is more to her than meets the eye. She is remarkable. Quite remarkably loyal. And she would do anything for the people she loves.”
“I know that,” Cecil said, with more firmness than he intended, a little put off by his sister’s fond smile.
It was rare for Nora to be this tactile about anything or anyone. He understood why, but it was still surprising to see her try to approach a subject without utilizing the stubbornness they both possessed.
Perhaps her marriage has changed her more than he had thought.
Nora's expression did not change, but something in her eyes did. “Do you?”
“She is my friend too, dear sister.” he said. “She is helping me, and we get along fine. That is the extent of it.”
“Right.” Nora nodded. Then, with tremendous, studied lightness, “Viscount Lockwood is quite taken with her, you know. He has been asking Godric questions about her family. Discreet ones. The sort of questions a man asks when he is genuinely interested.”
Cecil turned a page of his book. Or rather, his hand moved. His eyes did not follow.
“Is he?” he drawled, utterly uninterested, though the growing tightness in his chest said otherwise.
“Apparently so.” His sister gladly informed.
Silence fell in the room once again, and this time it lasted for nearly a minute.
“Well,” Cecil said, “That is entirely her own affair.”
“Of course it is,” Nora agreed pleasantly.
“I wish him the very best then. He’ll certainly need it – as you and I know our friend, Lady Penelope cannot be won over so simply.”
Cecil closed the book, stood, and gave his sister a smile that meant to preserve his dignity above everything else before he informed her. “I am going to take some air.”
“It is a lovely morning for it,” she agreed. “I trust you will enjoy making the choice to do so.”
He nodded at Godric, who had not looked up from his book. Godric's hand drifted to find Nora's, where it rested on the arm of her chair, the gesture so easy and habitual it had the quality of breathing – something neither of them needed to think about. Nora's fingers curled around his immediately. Some wordless thing passed between them, the kind of private sense married people developed without noticing, and Cecil found he needed to be in a different room before he did something as inexcusable as standing there and envying them.
He was at the door when Nora called, “Cecil.”
He stopped.
“If she were simply a friend,” Nora said in the gentle, careful tone, “I would say there is no particular reason to be cautious. But if she is more than that – if you find that she is becoming more than that – then please do keep a little distance. Because Matthias Hawthorne is a good man, and she deserves someone who can give her what she actually needs.”
The sentence landed with a precision that he suspected was entirely deliberate.
“She is a friend. Just a friend,” he insisted, his voice sounding slightly foreign to his own ears.
“Then this conversation is completely unnecessary,” Nora said cheerfully, “And you may go and take your air. Good bye brother dear.”
Cecil left swiftly, glad to be away from his sister and her annoyingly keen senses. Although he did feel in dire need of fresh air, he pointedly avoided the garden for the rest of the morning.
By mid-morning, Cecil had managed to find himself a place to wallow by himself. He had found an unoccupied terrace that overlooked the back of the estate, with a good view of the stables and the lawn atop which a pavilion stood.
