He shrugged. “Mr. Yorke seems bound and determined towin your support—and more—and he is a charming gentleman.”
“And you think me so susceptible?” Annoyance flickered in Caroline’s chest.
“You would hardly be the first woman to succumb to the charms of a gentleman of theton.”
“Allow me to set any such fears—absurd as I find them—to rest here and now by giving you my word. My votes shall be for you, Oswald. All five of them.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “I hope you will allowmeto claim the first set of the dancing, though. As your candidate.”
That last phrase had been tacked on—needlessly, she thought. Almost as though he was trying to reassure her over a thought that hadn’t crossed her mind until now.
“Naturally,” she replied. “That is, unless I am inexorably swept up by the charms of one of our guests.”
Oswald laughed good-naturedly, and she felt herself relax.
The two of them did not always see eye-to-eye, but they managed to find their equilibrium despite it. Was that not a good basis for a marriage? Perhaps she was being ridiculous in holding Oswald at arm’s length when it would be natural for them to marry. Surely, Trelowen would be the better for it.
And yet, as Oswald took his leave, she found herself reluctant to say anything that might give rise to hope inside him. She watched him ride his horse from the courtyard, wishing she could be more decisive. The longer she waited, the more it felt like putting off the inevitable.
And why? What reason had she to delay?
And if therewasgood reason to do so, why allow him to think there was a chance?
The thought of rebuffing him entirely set her stomach clenching. What would come of their friendship? Would he be angry? Distant?
Caroline’s marriage to Richard had been…satisfactory. Its purpose had been accomplished forher, at least. She had become a lady, and her family had received a handsome sum. For Richard, it had been less satisfactory, for no heir had resulted from the match. He had not blamed her for this—at least not outright—and had held her in great enough esteem and affection to leave her Trevenna.
Or perhaps that was merely a testament to how much he despised his uncle.
Whatever the case, Caroline’s relationship with Oswald was much friendlier than the polite connection she and Richard had shared. Perhaps it was a result of their ages being nearer. She was too grateful for his friendship and support to wish to harm it.
A squeaking floorboard brought her head around, and she found the housekeeper, Mrs. Penhaligan, in the doorway, looking reluctant to enter. She had something in her hand—the menu for the week, it appeared.
“Come in.” Caroline went to the writing desk in the corner where they always discussed such matters.
Mrs. Penhaligan placed the menu in front of her, but their main topic of discussion was what would be served at the gathering on Saturday. Caroline went through each suggestion one by one, adding her own notes and modifications before handing it back to the housekeeper.
“There be one other thing, m’lady,” she said.
“What is it?”
“A few of the servants be askin’ what time yer ladyship reckons we’ll ’ave done ’ere on Sa’urday.”
Caroline’s brows went up. “Oh?”
“Word is there be a gatherin’ on the beach that evenin’, and they be wantin’ to attend—if they’ve finished their duties,o’course.”
“What sort of gathering?” Caroline did her best to give her servants ample time for recreation, but it was not common for them to ask for it on a day as important and busy as Saturday would be.
The housekeeper gave her a significant look. “I only know what I’ve ’eard, but they say ’tis that London gent. ’E be announcin’ his campaign.”
Caroline frowned. So, hedidintend to pursue election. More fool he.
But she failed to see the connection between his campaign and her servants’ desire for permission to attend a party at the beach.
“’E be invitin’ the village, m’lady,” Mrs. Penhaligan explained.
Caroline blinked. “To his campaign announcement?”
