Chapter 8
Mandie pressed down the nerves churning in her middle as she smoothed her skirt before the mirror. One last time to make sure all was in place before she ventured out of the room.
Bea had said she could join the family for the evening meal if she felt strong enough, and after endless hours staring at these log walls, the prospect of conversation and companionship sounded tempting. Her head barely ached anymore.
Her room was comfortable enough, with a sturdy bed frame, a carved wooden dresser, and a washstand with a thick porcelain basin.
But the furnishings held a masculine air, as if they had been chosen for function over form.
Was this simply an extra guest chamber? Or had she taken a room from one of the family members?
Inhaling a deep breath, Mandie opened the heavy wooden door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she made her way toward the main part of the house.
Rich scents wafted from the kitchen—roasting meat and herbs—and her stomach made an unladylike sound.
As she entered the great room, a tall figure emerged from a side chamber. One of the brothers, but she didn’t know his name. Or rather, she’d memorized the names Bea told her, but didn’t know which face they matched up to.
Except Enoch, of course. That glimpse of the eldest Balfour had burned him clearly in her memory.
This younger brother looked up and stopped short at the sight of her, his eyes widening.
“Mrs. Beaumont.” He quickly collected himself. “It’s a pleasure to see you out and about. I trust you’re feeling better?”
She offered a smile. “I am, thank you, Mr. Balfour. Bea thought I might be ready to join everyone for dinner.” Should she have called him Lord Balfour?
“Please, call me Robert.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “We don’t stand much on formality here. And we’ll all be glad for your company.”
The sound of voices drew her focus to the staircase, where two more Balfour brothers trotted down.
These must be James and Thomas. Hadn’t Bea said Thomas was the youngest?
If so, he must be the darker-haired one.
He looked slightly more youthful, though the entire family was a handsome lot.
What had William been like? Something fluttered in her middle.
Probably as comely as his younger brothers, or maybe more so.
But that didn’t matter. William was gone, and his brothers still grieved deeply, no doubt. Where were their parents? Bea had never mentioned them, which made her think the brothers had been on their own for many years.
Thomas led the way, jumping the last two steps to the main floor.
He flashed an infectious grin. “Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.
Thomas, at your service.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, then straightened with a wink, his green eyes laughing.
“I’d heard whispers of a beautiful maiden gracing our humble abode, but I dared not believe them until now. ”
Goodness, what a charmer.
James elbowed him aside. “Pay him no mind, Mrs. Beaumont. He’s been reading entirely too much Byron of late.
I’m James, and we’re delighted you could join us.
” Taller and broader through the shoulders than Robert or Thomas, he nevertheless shared the same classically handsome features and air of good breeding.
“I suppose I should be flattered to be immortalized in verse.” She arched her brows. “Though I shudder to imagine the rhyming words one could concoct for Mandie.”
“Mandie.” Thomas rolled the syllables around on his tongue as if tasting them. “Why, the possibilities are endless. Candy, dandy, handy...er, perhaps not that last one.” He flashed her a cheeky grin.
The taller brother rolled his eyes heavenward. “Please pay no mind to my ridiculous sibling. The rest of us do try to comport ourselves with some modicum of dignity.”
She couldn’t help a genuine smile. How refreshing to be among people who could laugh and tease without ulterior motives. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so daunting after all.
A door opened beside the staircase, and Enoch stepped into view, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He must have come from washing up, for his damp hair slicked back from his forehead, and water still glistened on his large, work-stained hands.
He joined the group, his sharp blue gaze fixed on her. “Mrs. Beaumont? Should you be out of bed?”
Up close, she could see the fine lines etched around his eyes and mouth, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. Her insides gave a tiny flutter, and she had the sudden, mad urge to reach out and smooth the furrow between his dark brows.
But instead, she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes steadily. “Bea said I could join everyone for the evening meal if I felt up to it. And after being confined to bed all day, I find myself quite eager for companionship.”
Enoch’s head tipped as something like curiosity touched his gaze. But then his expression settled. “I see. Well, if Mrs. Wang thinks it wise...” He trailed off, his gaze flickering over her as if assessing her condition for himself.
James cleared his throat. “We were just welcoming Mrs. Beaumont to the table, Enoch. No need to look so grim about it.”
“I’m not grim.” Enoch’s jaw tightened. “Merely surprised. And concerned for our guest’s well-being.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Come off it, Enoch. The lady says she’s feeling better. Let her enjoy a meal without you hovering like a mother hen.”
A tense silence fell over the room. Mandie glanced between the brothers, sensing the undercurrents of old resentments and unspoken grief.
Thomas caught her eye and flashed a conspiratorial wink, as if to say, Don’t mind the old bear. We’ll have some fun yet.
Finally, Enoch let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing a little. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me, Mrs. Beaumont. It’s not been easy of late.” He gestured toward the dining room. “Please, allow me to escort you to the table.”
Mandie hesitated only a moment before stepping forward and placing her hand on his offered arm. A very solid, very warm arm. The contact sent an unexpected frisson through her, and she had to force herself to breathe. What was it about this man that unsettled her so?
As they walked the short distance to the dining room, she was acutely aware of his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he shortened his stride to match hers.
This was no different than any dinner party back in Savannah.
Yet this wasn’t Savannah.
She was being escorted to dinner by a veritable stranger in a sprawling Montana ranch house. Still, somehow this felt comfortable. And pleasant. Maybe even exciting.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a low, almost conversational voice. “Mrs. Wang seems quite taken with you.”
She allowed a smile. The housekeeper had brought a tray of fragrant tea and still-warm scones that afternoon.
They’d talked for nearly an hour, Bea sharing some of her own history, how she emigrated from China to England as a young girl, then married Mr. Wang and the two came to work for the Balfour family.
She’d asked about Mandie’s past too, and it had felt good to share.
Not all the smaller details, but the main facts.
Her parents, her father’s governmental work, Nicholas and his death.
Bea’s eyes had glistened when Mandie shared that last part, and she’d taken Mandie’s hand. I’m so sorry, dear. I know words don’t ease the pain, but I’d love to hear more about him when you’re ready. Both of them were widows, it seemed. One more bond they shared.
“She’s been very kind to me. She has a way of seeing what other people miss.”
Something shifted in Enoch’s expression then, a minute crack in his stoic facade. His arm twitched beneath her hand. “She does.” His voice came out a little gruffer than usual. “She’s always seen straight through my bluster.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he glanced her way.
Not a full smile, but her heart gave a little flip. How would he look if he truly grinned? If he gave himself over to joy or laughter or abandon? A part of her yearned to find out, to dig past the layers of grief and duty and reservation until she unearthed the man beneath.
But those thoughts would only lead downward.
They’d reached the dining room, where the table had been laid with clean white China and sparkling silver, a bounty that seemed at odds with the rustic simplicity of the house itself.
Enoch paused as he studied the chairs, his brow furrowed as if confronted with a vexing riddle. Then he led her to the chair beside the head and pulled it out for her.
She sank into the proffered seat with a murmur of thanks, watching from the corner of her gaze as Enoch took the seat to her right at the head of the table. He stared at the empty plate before him, as though he’d never seen one like it before.
The younger Balfours filed in behind them, their earlier joviality tempered by something Mandie couldn’t quite put a name to.
Each eyed Enoch as they found their chairs.
Surprise seemed to be the common theme, but she couldn’t for the life of her determine why.
What had Enoch done so differently tonight than his usual?
James finally broke the charged silence, a slow, speculative smile spreading across his face as he settled into his seat across from her. “About time.” He sent her a wink, but didn’t explain his cryptic words.
Enoch’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing as Bea emerged from the kitchen, bearing a large platter of roast beef, the savory aroma preceding her.
She placed it in the center of the table with a flourish, her dark eyes twinkling as she surveyed the gathered family.
“Well now, doesn’t this make a nice picture?
It’s been too long since I’ve seen a lady grace our table. ”
She settled into the seat nearest the kitchen, and they all bowed their heads.
Mandie quickly did the same, and Robert spoke a prayer over the food.
Did he always say grace? She was accustomed to the man of the house doing so—first her father, then Nicholas.
But Robert was third or fourth in line, as far as she could tell.
When they spoke the “amen,” activity commenced before she could even lift her head.
All the brothers reached for the nearest serving spoons and heaped generous portions onto their plates. Enoch took up the fork for the roast, but placed the first serving on Mandie’s dish before scooping a generous chunk onto his own.
As the food made its way around the table, conversation began to flow. James and Thomas regaled her with tales of the spring calves and foals, their words tumbling over each other in their eagerness to share. Robert interjected occasionally to correct an exaggeration or add a salient detail.
And Enoch...Enoch remained largely silent as he listened and ate. But he seemed to relax by degrees, the tight line of his shoulders easing as he listened to his brothers’ chatter.
Every so often, his gaze would flicker to her, as if to gauge her reaction to their stories.
She couldn’t quite puzzle him out. He was clearly the head of the family and took his responsibilities seriously. But he possessed a heaviness. Was it only grief for his brother lurking beneath the surface? Or did another weight drag down his joy?
Whatever the case, his pain called to something deep within her. She knew what it was to pretend at normalcy while your heart bled in secret.
Bea kept the meal running smoothly, hopping up to fetch a second helping of potatoes or refill a water glass. The food was delicious—simple but hearty fare that warmed Mandie to her toes.
As the meal drew to a close, Mandie dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, feeling more sated and content than she had all day. The Balfour brothers’ easy camaraderie and Bea’s warm hospitality had worked their magic, soothing the raw edges of her grief and uncertainty.
She still had no idea how or why she’d come here, but for the first time since waking up after the accident, deep in the fog of confusion, a flicker stirred inside her of something that felt a lot like hope.