Clara was left speechless. She looked at her cousin and could easily imagine him being overwhelmed by the domineering, smooth Taylor. She would have to speak to Ralph severely…and soon. Clara jerked out a hand to reach for the wine, in order to soothe her agitation, but knocked over the glass – she’d used her right again. Quickly, she pulled her hands under the table, not only to hide the tremble, but to conceal the fact that she still wore gloves to dine.
Sir Matthew frowned at the mess she’d made, and a footman rushed over quickly to blot up the spill. She pulled back into her chair and felt her face flush in distress, as she heard a female laugh filter down from higher up the table – derisive and mocking.
“Don’t you worry, my dear. I once dropped a trunk on a duke’s foot. He was crippled for a week. His wife was grateful though, so there’s always a happy ending.” Clara turned in stunned amazement to the man on her left. She had been so horrified by having Sir Matthew to her right that she had completely ignored her other dinner companion. He was a thin, older man with greying hair; a myriad of laughter lines graced his face.
“Sir, I am so dreadfully rude, we haven’t been –”
“Lord Bains, my dear, but just call me Dill. And you are Miss Clara Lockwood.”
“My lord, I am truly pleased to meet you, and nevertheless, I apologise for my ignorance. I just…”
The benign, old man tapped his finger to his nose, “Don’t you worry, lots on your mind, I’m sure.” His eyes became hard as they slid to Sir Matthew, and Lord Bains suddenly didn’t look very benign at all. In fact, he looked more like…Rookdean.
“Are you a relation to the house, my lord?” Clara felt compelled to ask.
“Indeed, I’m Di’s…I mean, Rook’s uncle.” Clara frowned. Surely, he should be sat nearer his nephew or niece then? Understanding her silent question, Dill replied with an amused tone, “Just because I’m related to them, doesn’t mean I want to talk to them all the time. Need to meet pretty, new faces.” He smiled at her with Rookdean’s blue eyes and Clara felt… lighter.
“I knew your Uncle Daniel, actually. We used to meet for discussions at our club, would you believe. Small world. He loved having you around, said you were always getting into scrapes. He used to call you his ‘little Eudora’ – his gift.”
Clara felt tears at the back of her eyes. Her parents had died from the same fever, when she’d been eleven, and her guardianship had been transferred to her Uncle Daniel on her father’s side.
At first, they had both been rather daunted by the magnitude of the situation. Her uncle, who was a confirmed bachelor and a classicist scholar, suddenly had a child to attend to, and Clara had been nervous about the huge bear of a man, who was now her guardian.
They had been wary of each other, until one day, he had found her crying in the garden. She had broken her doll, but once the tears had started, they had refused to stop: she had wanted her mother.
Uncle Daniel had gathered her up into a swing and proceeded to tell her the story of Eurydice and Orpheus. Perhaps not the best tale for an orphan, but his gruff tenderness had been everything she needed. In turn, he said that she had brought laughter and sunlight to his fading years.
As Clara reached nineteen, he had died after a short illness; she’d been heartbroken. However, during her longer than usual mourning period, she had collated his many untidy notes. The process had helped her grief, and she’d managed to avoid entering society entirely, until her cousin had come to fetch her.
“Didn’t mean to make you sad, lass,” Lord Bains murmured softly.
“I am fine, my lord. I just miss him so much.”
“It’s Dill, remember. And if I may be so bold, as your uncle’s friend, if you should ever need any help, just let me know. Hmmm?” Clara blinked in surprise.
“Thank you my lor…Dill,” she amended, smiling.
“Now, tell me about that translation of ‘Euripides’ that your uncle was working on before he died. Couldn’t stop him rattling on about it.” And Clara happily did.
The tension eased out of Rook, as he saw Miss Lockwood smile at his uncle. He didn’t know what that cad, Taylor, had said to her, but she looked quite upset, and he had wanted to go and find out why. Only Jack’s one word of, ‘no’ had stopped him from rising from the table.
“Is she the one you’re hunting, Rook?” Jack enquired.
“I am not hunting,” Rook reiterated firmly, but Jack merely chuckled gleefully.
He didn’t know who had put that Taylor fellow next to Miss Lockwood. In fact, he couldn’t understand why Taylor had been invited. All the men knew he was in dun territory, and the ladies were generally more up on the gossip, but perhaps Hestia had been swayed by his toadying, fawning manner. He would have words with his sister later, he thought irritably, although by the sour look on her face, maybe tomorrow.
When he’d noticed Taylor’s place at the table, he’d quickly swapped cards on Miss Lockwood’s other side, and asked his uncle if he minded keeping an eye. Dill had winked at him, and asked why, to which Rook had muttered something about keeping his guests happy. His uncle had perused Miss Lockwood’s face and form and then let out a guff of laughter.
“So Lady Lucas,” Jack drawled to the brunette widow next to Rook. “How do you like the gardens?”
Rook groaned silently. She gushed, practically gushed about the gardens, about his house, and about him. It was…embarrassing. He remembered the shocked gasp of, ‘Rookdean!’ by his mystery woman the previous night. Lady Lucas would have thrown herself back into his arms – another woman to cross off his list.
He glared at Jack, who smiled cheekily and shrugged. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
By the time that dinner was done, and the ladies had retired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Rook felt more relaxed. He had surveyed the room during dinner, and identified another dark-haired lady. Dill had kept Miss Lockwood busy, and Sir Matthew had kept his trap shut. The only person he couldn’t shut up was Jack.
“If you just told me, I’d stop asking.” Jack smirked pitilessly. “Why are you stalking dark-haired ladies? Haven’t even seen you chat with a blonde once.”
