“And she wasn’t very nice about it.”
“I believe that is where the similarity ends, Tobias.”
“You do?” He lifted his hanging head, his natural optimism returning with his uncle’s encouragement.
“Certainly. Miss Dunbar was less than subtle about her feelings. She took pains to make a fool of you. It was most unbecoming of a lady. I do not sense such callousness in Miss Grant. She is far more likely to draw back and break contact with you than to have all her friends laugh at your expense.”
“I hope you are right,” Tobias said aloud. Silently, however, he prayed that she would never feel the need to distance herself utterly. An angrily worded letter he could counter. But a lasting silence from Miss Grant would be his undoing. The weight of this thought lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. The hurt Miss Dunbar had caused him could never compare. Wounded pride was no match for a broken heart.
“If there is nothing else…” The earl tilted his head toward his book, where his finger rested patiently in the same spot.
“Thank you, Uncle. If it is all right with you, I will reply to Miss Grant’s letter before resuming my duties in the library.”
“Yes, yes,” came the reply, a wave of the hand dismissing Tobias, who retreated to his chambers.
Emboldened by his uncle’s reassurance, he readied his quill with ink and laid his questions before his hostess-to-be. What had changed her mind? Could they not meet sooner? It did not have to be a dinner.
He scribbled furiously, emptying his heart of all that strained to be heard. When it was done, he read it over. It was a good letter. Forthright. Reasonable.
But in his mind’s eye, he saw the veil of fear draw across her imagined face once more. He could not put his finger on its cause, yet he knew this letter would stir it up. That was not what he wanted. What sort of friend would he be if she reached out a tentative hand, only to have it grabbed too forcefully?
The page was cast into the fire.
Tobias pulled a new sheet toward him.
Dear Miss Grant,
Thank you for the kind invitation to dinner. My uncle is unable to attend, but if I will suffice, it would be my honor to accept.
Meanwhile, I have some thoughts on your most recent poem.
The pen scratched on as Tobias gave Miss Grant what she wanted. It was only in the quiet of his mind that he thought, perhaps one day, he might be permitted to give her what she needed.
Chapter Four
That confounded dinnerinvitation!
Sophia had tried everything to escape it. She had pleaded with Adriana. She blamed the weather, saying that spring would still be too cold for her to leave her cozy private chambers.
But Adriana was unmoved. “Was it not you who begged Papa for a carriage ride so you might take some fresh air?” Her eyebrows arched. “It would seem you have courage enough for snow, but not the hearth-heated dining room.”
“You know full well the snow does not terrify me as much as our father’s wrath,” Sophia countered.
Her sister shrugged. “Papa need never know. We have become quite adept at sneaking off on our little adventures behind his back.”
“You don’t even bother sneaking,” Sophia grumbled. “And I have only ever been a secretkeeper. I have never created one of my own.”
Adriana’s lips tweaked into a poorly concealed smile. “Except for Mr. Mannerly.”
“Keeping our correspondence secret wasn’t my choice.”
“You are a poor liar, Fee. You could easily have discarded Mr. Mannerly’s letters. He would soon have given up trying. But you love every word he has written. Why, I am amazed the pages haven’t fallen to shreds from your constant re-reading of them!”
“You shouldn’t spy on me.” Sophia pouted. “It is poor form.”
“Just admit it. You can’t wait to meet him.”
Sophia hesitated. There was a degree of curiosity, to be sure. What did Mr. Mannerly look like? How did his voice sound?
