Thornbrook Park (6 page)

Eve stifled a sigh of envy as she fastened the necklace at Sophia's throat in her preparation to go down to dinner. Strands of gold beaded with onyx and pearls dripped down Sophia's décolletage, the perfect complement to the cranberry velvet gown. Eve once had a necklace like it, only lovelier. She'd sold it, among other jewels, to settle her accounts in India and make passage. To go with her simple black evening gown, Eve had chosen one of her few remaining necklaces, a simple chain of clear crystals bearing a single, round melo pearl.

“I should have had Alice dress here so we could supervise her wardrobe,” Sophia said, smoothing her hand over the waves Mrs. Jenks had artfully arranged in her hair. “I can't fathom what drove her to choose that masculine necktie this afternoon.”

“Really? You can't fathom?” Eve couldn't tell if Sophia meant what she said. “You don't realize that she wore the tie to spite your matchmaking efforts?”

Sophia looked up, stunned. “You really think she did it on purpose?”

“Of course. Alice hasn't quite come around to the idea that she needs a husband.”

“Needs?” Sophia scoffed. “Of course one needs a husband. What on earth can she be thinking?”

Eve shrugged. “She's young. Maybe she fancies spending her inheritance on her own.”

Sophia's grandmother Emerson had left both girls quite enough money so that a marriage of convenience could be avoided in favor of one for love. Eve still wasn't certain which Sophia had ended up in. Had she fallen for Gabriel in their years together, or was it still merely his title that appealed?

“On her own?” Sophia gasped. “She has no idea. You could tell her, I suppose. You know what it's like to be alone now. I'm sorry. Once I said that out loud, I realized how insensitive it sounds.”

“No, but it's true. I do know what it is to feel quite alone. When I married Ben, I lost my family. Now I'm on my own again, or I would be without you.” Eve smiled to show that she had taken no offense.

“But you still miss your parents? You never speak of them.”

“Of course I miss them. If I had been able to marry Ben and keep my family in my life, I would have. You were right when you said it would be difficult to be without them. I've never stopped wishing that I could talk to my brother again.”

“Maybe he will come around one day.”

“One day,” Eve agreed. “I have no regrets. But I would give anything to truly belong somewhere again.” There was nothing she wanted more fiercely.

Her heart gave a twinge with the memory of having been everything to Ben, and he to her. The way he used to look at her, his brown eyes—no, blue. His eyes had been blue. Oddly, she was picturing a different pair of eyes in her mind, clear whiskey-brown eyes tinged with gold. Captain Thorne's eyes.

“Are we ready to go down? The gentlemen might already be waiting in the drawing room.” She might as well get introductions over with once and for all.

“I doubt it.” Sophia laughed. “I think we would hear the sound of fisticuffs if Marcus and Gabriel ended up alone. I'm not quite ready. Why don't you go? Make sure they don't come to blows if they do find themselves together.”

“I'll see you shortly, I hope?”

“Within minutes. I'm just going to call Jenks and see if she can find my onyx earrings.”

Eve braced herself. No sense putting off the inevitable. It was time to see if Captain Thorne had a good memory.

***

Marcus paused outside Sophia's room on his way down. He knew Sophia's voice well enough, but the other seemed oddly familiar. It wasn't Alice. Sophia's maid? Or perhaps that friend of hers who had gone to bed with a headache? They hadn't been introduced upon his arrival, he realized. He'd been too caught up in choking down his annoyance at Gabriel.

Tonight, Marcus would sit at the table, have a good meal, make pleasant conversation with Sophia, try to avoid Gabriel's pointed barbs, dodge Agatha's attempts to read his aura, and maybe flirt with Alice. God help him if Sophia had called in a throng of neighbors to celebrate and adore him. He didn't have the patience to make nice with strangers or, worse, to endure the curious questions of people he used to know.

Yes, I fought in a war. Of course it was brutal. No, I wasn't injured…much. I felt more stupid than brave. How could I not be a changed man?

Perhaps Sophia's maid was in her room sharing conversation. They seemed to be friends. He found it refreshing that his sister-in-law would be so forward-thinking. First Kipling, now relaxing class distinction.
Bravo, Sophia
. He picked up some of the conversation. The woman with the oddly familiar voice remarked on missing her family and wishing she belonged somewhere. Marcus could keenly empathize.

His thoughts flew back to South Africa, to the families he'd had a hand in separating—women and children herded into camps, separated from their men. Had they found each other again? He knew he should be proud to have fought for his country. And yet, he felt a good deal of sadness and regret, a sense of loss that could never be restored. Good men were lost from both sides. Loss of life was never cause for celebration. And William Cooper had been such a fine man, a husband and father who would never come home to his own. Marcus had to remember how much he needed his brother if he wanted Tilly Meadow Farm for the Coopers.

Just then, he heard the women speak about Alice. Ah, so it was Alice that Sophia planned to throw into his path? No wonder she hadn't given up easily on luring him home. Perhaps he shouldn't encourage her. He needed to help the Coopers, not to be saddled with a wife. But just as he turned, about to go down to the drawing room, the door opened behind him and curiosity made him turn back.

He stood face to face with a petite blonde, the friend of Sophia's. He'd barely noticed her earlier, but now his immediate attention was drawn to her bosom, showcased with a melo pearl hanging provocatively down past her décolletage. Regretfully, staring at a woman's breasts was generally considered impolite. He forced his gaze up. His regret faded when he realized she had quite a pretty face, too. Heart-shaped, perfect little nose, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth, pink lips opened to a startled gasp.

“Captain Thorne. We haven't met.” She kept her eyes lowered at first. Then something seemed to strike boldness in her, and she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I'm Lady Averford's friend, Mrs. Kendal.”

“Of course,” he answered absently before he met her eyes and froze. Gas-flame blue.
My
bedside
angel.
She stood right in front of him. But how? How had she been at Averford House on that unfortunate night? And now, to turn up here? Brazening out a lie that they hadn't met? Did she really think he wouldn't remember eyes like hers? “Mrs. Kendal.”

“Yes.” She seemed to relax, as if relieved she hadn't been found out.

“And how do you happen to be here?”

She blinked, perhaps becoming more uncertain. “By invitation, of course. I've come from India. My husband and I made our home there until he passed away.”

“In India? How fascinating. You've recently arrived?”
Her
husband
had
passed
away?
She looked so young to be a widow.

She inhaled sharply. “Somewhat.”

“Were you headed down?” He offered his arm. “I would be happy to escort you. We can get to know each other better.”

“Thank you.” She hesitated. Sophia was still in her room, leaving Eve little choice but to accept the offer or cut him coldly. She placed her dainty gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. “She ‘travels fastest who travels alone,' but it is kind of you to offer. I accept.”

“Kipling.” He tried to hide his surprise. Yet another Kipling quote? He'd suspected Alice of writing for her sister, but now he'd found the truth. “Are you a great reader?”

“I do enjoy a good book. I have mixed feelings about Kipling, however.”

“As do I. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” She laughed, a pleasant tinkling. “I'm sure Kipling has his share of detractors.”

“No, about your husband. It must have been quite unnerving to end up a widow in India.”

“It was. He was an army captain, too, killed in an earthquake in May of last year.”

He couldn't hide his cringe. “Terrible way to go.”

“They say it was instant, no suffering. He was a wonderful man. India was quite an adventure for us, but I'm glad to be back among friends now that I'm on my own. Lady Averford has been such a dear.”

“That she is, inviting you here, and Averford House? You must have stopped in London, then, after disembarking.” He stopped and faced her. “You didn't think I would remember you?”

She bit her pretty, pink lip and looked down. “I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean.”

Yet unwilling to give up the game? He slipped a finger under her chin and urged her to lift her face until she met his gaze. For more than a few seconds, they remained as if frozen, looking into each other's eyes. Hers held a wealth of secrets, he imagined, and he suddenly wished he could uncover them all.

“Sweet mercy, woman, I couldn't forget you. You stayed with me, a stranger, at my bedside the whole night.”

“Not quite the whole night. It was foolish of me, I know, but you seemed so frantic and—”

“Foolish? It was the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me. Embarrassed as I am that you've seen me at my worst, I'm relieved to have the chance to thank you. Sutton denied you'd even been there. I'd begun to think I'd dreamed you up.”

“I asked Sutton not to mention my presence, just in case our paths ever crossed again. Though, I truly didn't think they would so soon. I had no idea you would come here, and then Sophia, well…” Her lips curved into a smile that lit her whole face, making the gas-flame blue eyes flare all the brighter. “You're welcome. Now let's put it behind us, shall we? Probably best if we never think of it again.”

“But you wrote the letter? Kipling? Not exactly Sophia's style.”

“I wrote it,” she confessed. “Sophia asked me for help. She told me most of what to say. I couldn't deny her request, though I had no idea that it would actually succeed in enticing you here.”

“I was overdue for a visit. Now I find that I'm meant for Lady Alice. Don't deny it. I overheard you and Sophia.”

Eve blushed. “She has high hopes for you and Alice.”

“She's not used to being disappointed, is she?”

She shook her head. “She's determined to have her way in all things.”

“Then you'll have to help me. Let's give her a little scare when I ignore Alice and flirt with you instead.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Are you game?”

“For flirting?” She laughed. “Sophia won't like it at all. What kind of friend would I be?”

“Come on,” he urged. “Let's have some fun with her. No harm done.”

“I don't know.” She tilted her head, a golden strand falling from her chignon to brush her cheek. He resisted the urge to sweep it aside. “What's the fun in flirting if you're guaranteed success?” she asked. “You'll just have to see what happens if you try.”

She took her hand from the crook of his arm to continue on alone. He trailed after her. “Mrs. Kendal, you minx. I believe you've already started.”

She could feel his gaze on her, practically burning through her dress as she made her way down the stairs. Lord Averford stood in the center of the hall speaking with Agatha and Alice. Agatha wore subdued peach and blue for the evening. Apparently, Alice had decided to please her sister and wear the recommended emerald silk that suited her in its simplicity. It was a long-sleeved sheath with a high collar that accented her graceful neck.

On sight of Captain Thorne, the earl broke away from the ladies to greet his brother with a clap on the shoulder.

“Look what the cat dragged in. You've finally come home.”

“After two years, it seemed about time to make an appearance.” Hands in his pockets, Captain Thorne shrugged, his black tailcoat accentuating his broad shoulders.

Though dressed alike in their evening finery, the two men could not have appeared more different. Lord Averford wore his with proud ease, the picture of effortless elegance. But even dressed to the nines, Captain Thorne managed to bring more casual scenarios to mind, as if the clothes were an encumbrance to be torn off at his earliest convenience. Or perhaps Eve was simply getting carried away. She checked the urge to run her fingers through his close-cropped hair and give it the rumpling it seemed to deserve.

“Did I hear you speaking with Mrs. Kendal on the way down? You've met?” Lord Averford asked, playing the role of dutiful host.

“We've made our own way in getting to know one another.” Captain Thorne smiled in Eve's direction, and she felt the acknowledgment in a tingle at the base of her spine. “No need for introductions.”

“Oh, that's right,” Lord Averford said. “You stopped at Averford House along the way, Mrs. Kendal. I hope my brother was a proper host.”

“We somehow missed each other.” Thorne arched a brow in Eve's direction, and she felt her pulse quicken in response. “I never had the pleasure of a conversation with Mrs. Kendal at Averford House.”

“Mr. Sutton took quite good care of me. I was there and out again so fast that I barely had time for anything.” Eve spoke up in defense of Captain Thorne before his brother could take issue with him. “I've been meaning to make my way back to London for a day of business.”

“Ladies needn't bother with business.” Lord Averford dismissed her. “I'll set you up a meeting with my solicitor. He can handle your affairs.”

Eve didn't get carried away with the issue of women's rights, but the suggestion that a lady didn't have the head to manage business rankled. “Thank you, but I can handle my own affairs.”

“Right you can,” said Alice, ever ready to jump into a political discussion. “Gabriel, for goodness sake. Before you know it, women will have the right to vote.”

“Ah, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves.” Lord Averford laughed. “I was only trying to help.”

“And I thank you for it.” Eve didn't mean to start an argument. “It's possible I may still need your help, and I'm pleased to know I can count on you if it comes to that. I think I need to go into London myself to check on a few things first.”

“I have affairs to attend to in London as well,” Captain Thorne said. “I can take you to Town, if you don't mind company.”

Eve's mouth went completely dry at the idea of traveling alone with the man. She couldn't speak.

“Go?” Sophia, glorious in her cranberry gown, swept down the stairs to join them at just that moment. “How can you speak of going, Marcus? You've only just arrived.”

“Only for a day. I'll come right back. You see, Brother, your wife misses me already.”

“Wasting no time in wearing out your welcome,
Brother
.” Lord Averford cast a heated glance in Captain Thorne's direction before he smiled to show that he was joking, or so he would have them all believe. Eve wasn't quite so sure. “Shall we go in, then?”

“Not yet, darling. We're expecting more guests.”

“More guests?” Captain Thorne straightened his tie, and his full lips flattened to a grim line.

“It's not a proper homecoming without friends to welcome you home. Lord and Lady Holcomb are coming.”

“And Lord Markham with his new wife,” Alice piped in. “I can't wait to see her. They eloped. She's half his age.”

“Maybe half.” Sophia's eyes twinkled with the hint of scandal. “I believe she's more of an age with his son. But let's not speak of it.”

“Let's not.” Captain Thorne looked ready to bolt.

At the sound of Finch welcoming a new arrival, Eve closed the distance to stand at Captain Thorne's side. “I dread meeting new people—all the questions about my husband and how he died. Perhaps you can sit by me and help me steer the conversation when certain topics arise?”

His amber eyes lit up. “Of course. I'm happy to oblige.”

“Thank you, Captain Thorne.” What she really intended was to help him through any uncomfortable questions about the war. She only used her widowhood as an excuse, and she knew he realized that when he found her hand and squeezed it gently in his own.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kendal. I begin to wonder if you really are an angel, after all.”

Her heart raced. For the second time of the evening, she found herself at a complete loss for words. Fortunately, all parties had arrived and the commencement of introductions and going in to dine would give her plenty of time to regain command of her tongue.

***

Of all the rooms at Thornbrook Park, the dining room had changed the most from what Marcus remembered. The walls had gone from green to a pale shade of violet. Sophia had replaced Mother's green glass chandelier with an elaborate crystal one. In addition, there were lit silver candelabras down the middle of the long rectangular table, and new lamps sat on all the side tables around the room next to elaborate flower arrangements. The paintings remained but had been rearranged, with a recent addition taking the center focal point between cabinets: a portrait of Gabriel posed like a red-coated Adonis on the hunt. Marcus rolled his eyes.

A portrait of Sophia on the opposite wall could have been a companion piece, except that she had chosen a staid interior rather than appearing as Artemis in the grand outdoors. She sat in a queenly white dress, surrounded by vases of flowers, her loyal subjects. It was a suitable likeness, but he would have advised her to embrace the wild theme, let her hair down, pose outdoors, perhaps bare a bosom. Well, perhaps the bare bosom would have been taking things a tad too far, but a loose Grecian gown wouldn't have been out of place. He imagined Mrs. Kendal in a loose gown, blond hair flowing.

Except for the pretty face of Mrs. Kendal at his side keeping his imagination occupied, dinner had been a dull affair. Conversation meandered along, a tedious trek through the usual mundane topics: the weather, the stock of game, and war. Everyone wanted to make Marcus out to be a hero, but he was just a man.

Fortunately, Mrs. Kendal changed the subject to ask if Marcus had ever met a few of her compatriots in India, especially a Colonel Adams who had served briefly in South Africa before ending up in Raipur. Marcus remarked that he hadn't had the pleasure, but Eve's question was enough to turn talk to India and away from his own time in service.

“Was it dreadfully hot? I think I might die from heat if I ever have to go to India,” Lady Markham remarked as the first course, a glazed quail, was served.

Mrs. Kendal took it in stride. “The heat kept the flies from becoming too active. They get lazy, you know, when it's hot.”

Marcus flashed Mrs. Kendal a look, and she winked at him. He knew she was having them all on. The heat would have brought the flies in droves.

“Oh, flies! Dreadful.” Lady Holcomb recoiled. “Thank goodness you're back in England.”

“Thank goodness for me,” Sophia said. “I missed her. And I've missed Captain Thorne as well. Now I simply have to find a way to keep all my favorites here at Thornbrook Park. Alice, you must help me. How can we entice Captain Thorne to stay on?”

“Ha. I'll work to keep Eve on, perhaps. I haven't made up my mind about Captain Thorne yet.”

“I'll have to convince you, but not too aggressively. I'm not set on staying for long,” Marcus said. Though Mrs. Kendal, if not Alice, made him consider the possibilities. Eve, a fitting name. Like the biblical Eve, she put thoughts of sin in his mind, original or otherwise. The combination of those eyes with that figure was too much for any man to resist. He was just about to steal another glance at her when Aunt Agatha made a pronouncement.

“We have a new visitor in the room. Lady Markham has joined us.”

“I've been here the whole time.” Lady Markham laughed and reached for her near-empty claret glass.

“No, my apologies. I mean the first Lady Markham. She considers herself the only Lady Markham,” Agatha added in a loudly whispered aside.

“Well, how about that?” Lady Markham humphed and reached again for her glass, barely waiting for the footman to finish filling it.

“She does not approve.” Agatha shook her head sorrowfully. “Please take no offense, Lady Markham, or I should call you by your given name to avoid provoking her. Do not take it personally. The dead often don't approve of their replacements.”

Lord Markham smiled. “That was my Sarabeth, always finding fault.”

“Your ghost wife passes judgment on me, and that's all you can say in my defense?” The new Lady Markham pursed her lips, clearly not at all pleased with the conversation.

“We're talking to a chair.” Lord Markham gestured. Unsatisfied, his young wife crossed her arms and turned slightly away from him. He shook his head, defeated, and readdressed the chair. “Very well. Now, Sarabeth, darling, you left me and what was I to do? You know I could never manage on my own.”

Lady Markham rose in a huff. “You never call
me
darling.”

“Oh!” Agatha exclaimed. “That did it. She's gone.”

“What did it?” Sophia asked, drawn in to the scene. “Lord Markham's confession?”

“No, the new Lady Markham's indignant reaction. The former Lady Markham threw back her head, laughed, and disappeared. Sometimes the spirits just want to make trouble, don't they?”

“Mission accomplished.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Now let's get back to more pertinent discussion.”

The new Lady Markham, perhaps realizing she looked silly, settled back in her seat.

“Pray, what is more pertinent, Brother? ‘Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind,' as Kipling says.” He smiled at Eve. “So go ahead, Gabriel. Intoxicate us!”

Eve flashed him a look as if surprised he could even mention intoxication.

“Lady Markham knows all about such states, I believe,” he whispered, delighted to see her blush in response. The spectacle with Agatha and the Markhams had interfered with his planned flirtation.

“If you want a good drunk, I've got plenty of excellent scotch.” Gabriel missed his point, as usual.

“I want to be drunk on words, Gabriel. You mistake me. Sophia, dear sister, you like words well enough. Go on, speak! Let us drink our fill from your font of wisdom.”

“I don't think anyone has ever accused Sophia of wisdom,” Alice said with a laugh.

“Now, now,” Marcus defended. “In the letter that lured me here, the lovely Sophia quoted Kipling.”

“Kipling?” Alice laughed. “I doubt Sophia has ever read Kipling. Have you, dear?”

Sophia's cornflower eyes darted between Marcus and Alice, as if she couldn't decide if she was pleased that they were interacting, even if it were at her expense. Or maybe she was trying to figure out if it was indeed at her expense.

Sophia shook her head. “I can't say that I have. I prefer Brontë.”

“Brontë? ‘Better to be without logic than without feeling,' as Charlotte said. I applaud your choice.” Marcus raised his glass.

“You know Brontë, Captain Thorne?” Eve asked, surprised.

“Charlotte? Perhaps she meant Emily. Or Anne,” Alice suggested.

“I've read some Brontë, I must confess.” He met Eve's gaze warmly. “I wouldn't sneer at a book simply because it was written by a woman, as some of my fellow men might do.”

“‘Terror made me cruel,'” Eve said, trying to hide that she was most favorably impressed with his answer. “Do you know that one, Captain Thorne?”

“Was it Lockwood who said so?
Wuthering
Heights
?” Marcus knew it was. Test him, would she? “Tell me, Alice, are you ever cruel, and is it terror that makes you so?”

“I'm not sure I've ever been terrified,” Alice said, after a moment's consideration.

“Oh? I'm certain you've been cruel.” Marcus flashed a smile.

“Why would you think so?” Sophia asked.

“A beautiful woman such as our Alice, not yet wed? She's no doubt disappointed any number of suitors. Haven't you, Alice?”

“A woman can't be expected to say, Captain Thorne. You scoundrel.” Sophia tried to admonish him, although she couldn't help but smile in her obvious delight at the flirting going on in front of her. “Don't answer him, Alice.”

“Alice has met her soul's equal, but she didn't know it at the time,” Agatha said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “He's a shadowy figure. I see him digging in the dirt with bare hands. What could it mean?”

“Perhaps he's burying treasure,” Gabriel jested, probably for the chance to steer the conversation away from another spiritual reading by Agatha. “You're destined for a pirate, Alice. My brother doesn't like dirt. Do you, Marcus? He's never liked to make a mess, always his nose in a book. As you can see from the way he quotes to us. Kipling, Brontë, bah.”

“I was a bookish lad. But then I put away childish things and went to war.” He stared Gabriel down, aware of the hardness in his eyes even as he felt a rage edging in. “I learned to shoot. I don't think my brother has the guts to bring me out with him, lest he find himself bested. Isn't that why you haven't invited me to join you, Gabriel?”