Chapter 11
Anton wandered the corridors of his house hoping, but almost dreading, to run into Miss Muffet.
He thought a quick trip to see a friend at their request would have cleared his mind.
But he had never been so confused over a course of action in his life.
When he thought of something amusing, he wondered if she would think the same.
He even wanted her opinion about the concerns he had for his friend.
Miss Muffet was not who he ever thought he would fall in love with.
He remembered her odd mannerisms at the house party— the way she would turn away from every conversation, hide in a book, and avoid anything living.
Surely, such behavior was abnormal. His recent time with her contradicted all those previous thoughts.
The odd, petite woman had become attractive to him.
He needed to see her again to understand exactly how he felt about her.
He turned the corner and froze. It was as if his wish had brought her presence.
There she was, standing a few feet from him in the corridor, wearing one of her drab, brown dresses, her head bent over a letter.
The ivory, crocheted collar added a spinster look to a person so young.
She had not seen him yet, and his pulse thrummed as he studied her profile.
Gone were the curls in front. She had pulled all of her hair back from her face, accentuating her creamy skin and neck.
Instead of the tight little bun, soft curls now piled at the crown.
He took a cautious step toward her, his heart finally agreeing with his head.
He didn’t care what the world thought—this was the woman for him.
She had changed in so many ways and had blossomed into someone he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life getting to know better.
His shoes were damp from walking the grounds with Patches and squeaked with his footfall.
Her head whipped toward him, exposing a tear-streaked cheek.
“Miss Muffet?” His hesitant step took purpose, and he strode toward her. “What is the matter?
“Nothing.” She clenched the letter to her chest.
Why was her guard back up? Was it because he had been gone? “Have you received bad news?”
“No. It is from my home. Why should such news disturb me?”
“You must be homesick then.”
“Yes, that is it. I miss my home. It won’t be long now, and I can return. Excuse me.” She pushed past him and hurried away.
He stared at her, his mind racing. What had just happened?
He had been anxious to greet her, but she did not seem to return such thoughts.
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck under his cravat.
Didn’t she trust him yet? Maybe this was not meant to work between them.
He couldn’t force her to bring him into her confidence, nor to care for him.
An hour before dinner, Sophia’s parents and grandmother arrived. Lord Neeley was similar in age to what Anton’s father would be, if he were still alive, and Lady Neeley held her youth much like his own mother—with hardly a gray hair between them.
“Welcome,” Mother said to their guests. “We have been so eager to have you come. Sophia just went to change for dinner, but I shall send a maid to tell her you have arrived.”
A footman held Sophia’s grandmother’s arm, a woman unstable even with her cane.
“Thank you,” Lord Neeley said, putting his arm around Sophia’s grandmother. “This is my mother, Lady Margaret Neeley. She prefers everyone to call her Marg, as she is hard of hearing and often gets lost in such a long title.”
“We are pleased to have you, Marg,” Anton said in a loud voice before bowing.
“Is this Mr. Hastings?” Marg asked, her voice as wobbly as she was.
“No, dear,” Lady Neeley leaned near Marg’s ear. “This is his brother.”
“The earl?”
“Yes, Lord Crawford.”
Marg nodded and pushed up her spectacles. They reminded Anton of the ones Miss Muffet used to wear.
“He’s not married?” Marg asked, turning so Anton could answer.
“No, your ladyship,” he said. This summer he had begun to resent being single, and his wandering thoughts about Miss Muffet seemed to add to his growing discontentment.
The guests were shown to their room where they could change for dinner, and Anton found himself wandering to his own room.
At dinner, Anton was seated farther from Miss Muffet because of the guests. He stole a glance in her direction, but her head was bent low over her meal, much like when she had first arrived.
“How long have you been here, Miss Muffet?” Lady Neeley asked. “I am happy to see you again.”
“Nearly a month,” Miss Muffet answered, her voice subdued.
“How wonderful. I had no idea.”
“I have invited her to stay for the wedding, Mama.” Sophia smiled at Miss Muffet. Miss Muffet’s sudden smile confused Anton. He thought she was ready to return home. “She has written to her parents, and we are hoping they will permit her to stay longer.”
“These three girls have become quite inseparable,” Mother explained to Lady Neeley.
Gunther groaned. “I fear after we wed, Mary will regret she cannot keep planning her wedding with her friends.” Several amused chuckles reverberated around the table.
Lord Neeley reached for his goblet. “What is this I hear about a picnic?”
“Papa, you must come.” Sophia turned in her seat to touch her father’s arm. “It will be a chance to meet a few members of the neighborhood.”
“Looks like I will have to turn in early tonight so I don’t sleep through it.”
Anton glanced down at Miss Muffet again. This time she was looking at him. Was she hoping he would help her get out of staying longer at Banbury? Did she need his help talking to his overbearing sister? Mary could be quite the storm, should she choose to be.
When dinner ended, the men stayed for port until Lord Neeley declared his intentions to retire for the night. “I don’t travel well in a carriage. My mother wouldn’t hear of me riding alongside. She can’t see well out the window, and she worries so.”
“Of course,” Anton said. “You must see to your health.” They all murmured goodnight, and he and the men moved into the drawing room where the ladies were visiting.
Everyone naturally paired off. Terrance sat by Sophia, Gunther by Mary, Mother by Lady Neeley, and Anton was drawn to Miss Muffet.
Four people did not fit comfortably on the sofa, so when Mary and Gunther sat on the other end of them, Miss Muffet was forced to squish closer to Anton.
Her small thigh pressed close to his. Their hands brushed, and she quickly moved hers to her lap.
What was clearly uncomfortable to her was anything but for him. “Are you feeling better than when I last saw you?”
“Yes, I am well.” Her words did not match her sober expression.
“Did I miss anything of importance while I was away?” he asked.
“No, I should think not. We met with a dressmaker, and Terrance interviewed a possible cook for his estate.”
“And what were the outcomes?”
Miss Muffet looked over to Mary and Gunther conversing next to them, then finally turned her face to him. “From what I hear, everything turned out as expected.”
Why was she being so tight-lipped? He hesitated, knowing the question he asked was more for her benefit than his own. “Would you like me to tell the others that you are ready to return home? They will understand.”
“No!” Her vehement response surprised him.
“Oh.” Perhaps he had misread her. “My apologies. I did not mean to overstep.”
She shook her head, clearly flustered. “How did you find your friend?”
He chose not to press her and answered her question. “He is prone to melancholy and was deeply depressed in spirit. He usually fairs better in the summer, but I knew as soon as I received his letter, he needed me. We met at school, and he latched on to me—though he hated Gunther.”
Miss Muffet gave him a hint of a smile. “He likes someone a little more serious.”
“Yes, but I can never be too serious when I am with him. He feeds off of negative energy.”
“Are your visits draining?”
Anton sighed. “You might say so.”
“You are a good friend to go to him when he needs you.”
She always had a way of making him feel like he was the most chivalrous person in the world. “Who do you turn to when you need someone?”
Her brows raised. “Me? I . . . I write in my diary.”
“Really? I do the same. And when you are done? Do you feel better?”
“Mostly. I usually eat something sweet if writing did not help.”
Anton shook his head. “I can just see you pilfering the contents of the larder while everyone is asleep.”
“I would never do it while anyone was awake.”
Her serious expression made him laugh.
“What’s so amusing?” Mary asked, turning her body away from Gunther to face them.
“She hates to miss a good joke,” Gunther explained.
Anton shook his head. “I would never reveal Miss Muffet’s secret midnight snacks.” He looked at her, wondering if she would take offense to his public tease. When she chuckled, he relaxed. If they were to marry, she would have to be able to take a little teasing if they were to survive his family.
Marry? His smile slipped. Was he thinking so seriously about her? It made sense that if he cared for her, marriage would be the next plausible step.
“I am sorry if I am better at stealing food than any of you.” Miss Muffet’s quip made his smile return.
Finally, she was relaxed again in his presence.
Maybe he should not have left her alone for three days.
She needed an ally with all these engaged couples.
But would she stay long enough to give him a chance to sort through his feelings and make a decision about the future?