“Perhaps because you choose women who are unavailable or unsuitable for marriage?”
Nicholas held up a hand. “Stop, please, Gwen, this sort of talk is beyond the pale.”
“If I have offended your sensibilities, I apologize.” She looked entirely unrepentant. “You need a wife, Nick. A man cannot manage an estate like this without one. You don’t even have a housekeeper.”
“An unfortunate occurrence. Abercrombie has seen to it. A new housekeeper will arrive next week.”
“But why let matters such as this concern you? A wife would take many concerns from your shoulders.”
“They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake,” he said, quoting Pope.
Gwen laughed. “I refuse to believe you are such a hopeless case. Is it because of your experiences in the war?”
“No. The war leaves its mark on every soldier’s soul, but I’ve come to terms with that.”
She turned the glass and studied it as it sparkled in the firelight. “You have had such a sad life, losing Father and then Emory, so early in his life. And poor Sylvia, such a tragedy. I am sure you loved her dearly, but it was a youthful passion, was it not? And so long ago.”
He couldn’t expect her to understand his sense of failure. Gwen was so practical; she would tell him to put it behind him. But the thought of losing another he loved threatened to bring it all back. He swallowed and pushed the thought away. He glanced at her, half amused, half alarmed. “What are you up to, Gwen?”
She widened her eyes. “Why, nothing. But I wondered why you refused to waltz with Carrie.”
“I thought it unfitting.”
“Was it because you find her attractive? She is lovely.”
“No. You are reading more into it than there is.”
“Am I? I saw how you looked at her.”
“And how was that?” Gwen looked at life through rose-colored glasses.
“When you took Carrie’s hand and led her through the dance. A woman knows these things.”
He wondered uncomfortably if Carrie did. “I am not a green youth to fall under a pretty woman’s spell at the drop of a hat,” he snapped and then eased back in his chair with a deep sigh. “Sorry for being a bear, Gwen. Saddled with the care of these young people is unnerving, but I don’t begrudge it. I would do anything for Max, and I was grateful to have eased his mind a little in those last weeks and months of his illness. There’s nothing between Carrie and me, however. In fact, I have the sense she disapproves of me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” his loyal sister said with an impish smile. “You are extremely impressive.”
Nicholas chuckled.
“Perhaps it was wise not to waltz with her.” Her eyes became dreamy. “I fell in love with Winston the first time I waltzed with him.”
He smiled. “You always were a hopeless romantic. With the fear of repeating myself, nothing of that nature has occurred between us.”
She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps not yet?”
He rubbed his neck. “Shall we find another topic of conversation? Or are you needed elsewhere?”
“How charmingly put.” She put her glass down and rose. “Very well. You seem set on your course. I can only feel sad about it. You would make someone an agreeable husband, Nick, and a wonderful father. How patient you are with Bartholomew, and he adores you. There’s also the matter of an heir. Surely you don’t want Eustace to inherit?”
“What’s wrong with Eustace?”
She firmed her lips. “I never cared for him. And he isn’t a Pennington. Not really.”
He smiled. “You’ve grown rather toplofty of late.”
“Oh, pooh,” she muttered rudely, not quite under her breath, as she stalked to the door.
Nicholas eyed the closed door for a moment and then leaned forward with the poker to nudge a burning log that collapsed in a shower of sparks. Gwen was annoying, but he understood it was concern for him that drove her.
