Like few things ever did or had.
So, instead, he walked in the direction of the barn.
However, to his surprise, before he was able to exit the hall, he encountered Mrs.Salisbury stepping up from the kitchens.
“Malcolm,” she said, her brows arched, “are you leaving so soon?”
He coughed and looked away from her kind, inquiring face, which, no matter what, made him feel guilty.
“Yes, I—uh—figure my work here is done for the evening.”
“Indeed, you need not feel obligated to stay with us.I thank you so much for the service you have rendered me tonight.I know that it doesn’t bring you any pleasure.”
“Anything for Parkhorne, ma’am.”
“Eleanora,” she scolded mildly.She had long asked him to call her by her given name, which his other by-blow siblings all did readily.“And I hope Miss Perkins was at least a tolerable dinner companion?”
“Yes,” he said, swallowing hard.“But I fear she would not say the same of me.”
“I am sure that’s not true, my dear.”
He only grimaced in response.
“I would love to see a lady catch your interest, Malcolm,” Mrs.Salisbury said.“And this month we’ll have more unfamiliar women about Parkhorne than usual.You might look about yourself.”
His face heated.He knew that Mrs.Salisbury was just being kind, but he hated to imagine himself from her perspective.Her worthless dead husband’s firstborn by-blow, who fit nowhere and wore his scoundrel’s face.
“Thank you, Mrs.Salisbury,” he said politely, trying to mask his mortification.“I can certainly try.”
She gave him a smile and strolled back toward the drawing room.
After that, he continued on his path to the barn.
He knew, after all, what he would find there.And it would be better than being alone.
He strode into the barn.It was all aglow with lantern light and laughter, as he knew it would be.Old Ben was on the fiddle playing a jovial air, and people crowded together under the cavernous ceiling.Two rows of dancers dominated the center of the space that had been cleared on the barn floor.
Because while the fine people might dine up at the hall, the common folk around Parkhorne needed to have their fun too.
Malcolm understood that because, after all, he was one of them.A common man.
Even though he had grown up with his grandfather, who had been the local solicitor, so technically a kind of gentleman, Malcolm had always seen himself as one of the working people.It was probably because his grandparents had died with almost nothing to their name and because he had never had any ambition to work anywhere but outdoors.He knew it would have pleased his grandfather if he had wanted to pursue law or medicine, some line of study, but those subjects had never interested him like farming.
Ezra, his overseer, sidled up to him.“How was the fete up at the hall?”Ezra asked, his kind face shining.
He appeared to have had a tipple this evening, not that Malcolm could blame him.He had had a glass of wine at dinner, which was more than he usually allowed himself.
“Is Mrs.Salisbury pleased with how the Hall has turned out?”
“I suspect so,” Malcolm said.“It all appeared to go smoothly.”
“Very good,” Ezra said.“Ah, there she is.”
Malcolm turned and saw that he was talking to Netty Halcombe, a sweet-faced redhead that Ezra had long fancied.With the way Netty was smiling at Ezra and how the man then put his arm around her waist, it appeared the young woman had finally favored his suit.
“We are celebrating this evening,” Ezra said, his brown eyes sparkling.“Because Netty has agreed to see me to the church door in three weeks’ time.”
Malcolm bowed his head.“I wish you both joy.”
