Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
immediately retreat to the kitchen to report on the visitor and her reaction to him. They would gossip endlessly over what
he said, what she said, how he looked at her, how she looked at him and what it all meant, and she didn’t want to add fuel
to the fire by seeming too glad to see him.
Although she was. Amazingly glad.
Something that she was afraid her telltale face just might reveal.
“Lady Thomas.” Maguire greeted her with the appropriate amount of formality.
“Major Maguire.” She returned his greeting as formally, although her smile broke out as, Cyril having asked Maguire if he could take his coat and being told he preferred to keep it, Cyril turned away.
“Come talk to me in the library. I was in there earlier, and there’s a lovely fire.
” As she turned to lead Maguire to the library, Rynn bethought herself of something.
“Would you like some tea? And sandwiches, perhaps?” she asked him over her shoulder, ready to call after Cyril and request a tray be brought.
He shook his head. “I can’t stay.”
“Oh.” Did she sound disappointed? She feared she did. Schooling her expression, she stopped walking and turned back to face
him. “In that case, what can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’ve come to steal you away.”
“What?” She frowned at him.
“It’s Tim’s eighteenth birthday. Moira’s having a big to-do and lots of people will be there. She’d like you to come.”
“She barely knows me.”
“I’ve been talking you up.” He smiled at her. “Besides, I owe you a meal. And Moira is the best cook in County Donegal.”
“Mrs. Frampton would take issue with that.”
“I’m sure she would, as would many other ladies. But still, Moira’s food is not to be missed.” His eyes slid over her. “And
you could use some fattening up.”
Rynn stiffened in mock outrage. “Are you calling me skinny?”
“Never. Willowy, maybe. Sylphlike. Fine-boned. But never skinny.”
“Just because I no longer rise to your vision of female pulchritude . . .”
He shook his head. “I never said that.” His eyes lost their teasing glint. “But you’ve lost a deal of weight, you know. And
I hear that you rarely leave this place.”
“Who told you that?”
“How about we say, a little birdie, and leave it at that.”
Remembering how he’d given the same answer to the same question when she first met him, she gave him a condemning look. “And
people think gentlemen don’t indulge in gossip.”
“Oh, we do. I admit it freely. The thing is, I have to put in an appearance at Tim’s party or I will be in my sister’s black books forevermore.
I also have to be back in Dublin tomorrow morning for a meeting, and I want to talk to you.
If you’ll come with me, you’ll allow me to accomplish all those things in the small amount of time I have available, and you’ll get a good meal, good company and get out of the house.
And it’s got to be better than whatever you’ve been doing that’s got you looking so glum. ”
“First I’m skinny, now I’m glum. You’re just full of compliments today, aren’t you?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You don’t need compliments from me—you need to be rousted out of this rut you’re in. Isolating yourself like this isn’t healthy,
and you know it.”
She hesitated. The thought of going into company, especially to a family party where she didn’t really know anyone and was
sure to be an object of curiosity, made her shrink inside. But the idea of sending him on his way and returning to those heartbreaking
boxes held even less appeal.
He clearly read her indecision in her face.
“It’ll be fun, I promise. And from the look of you, you could use some fun. Along with some food.”
The look she gave him should by rights have choked him. He didn’t smile, but his eyes twinkled and his dimples came into play.
“Rynn. Come to the party with me.”
His voice cajoled. His eyes coaxed. And he’d called her Rynn.
It made her feel as if they were moving into a new phase of their relationship, from slightly distant, slightly wary coconspirators, to true friends.
Wavering, she glanced down at herself. Dust streaked her skirt from where she’d been kneeling on the floor, and her hair, because she hadn’t been expecting visitors, was bundled into a braid that she’d twisted into a now-untidy knot at her nape.
And for all she knew she had dirty streaks on her face.
“I’m not dressed for a party.”
“That’s an easy fix. Go change. I’ll wait.” The smile in his eyes expanded to include his mouth. “Did I mention that Moira
will be upset with me if I turn up without you? And if I’ve learned one thing in the course of a badly misspent life, it’s
this—never upset the cook.”
She laughed. And decided.
“All right. I won’t be long. You can wait in the library.” She showed him the way, left him with a newspaper and headed upstairs.
She washed, and dressed in another of her black dresses, although this one was a slim silk column embellished with lace inserts
at the neck and wrists, and did up her hair. The merest touch of pink by way of cosmetics on her cheeks and lips took her
from ghostly pale to pleasingly porcelain, she was glad to see. The onyx earbobs Thomas had given her added the finishing
touch. As she put them on, she smiled a little sadly at herself in the mirror, remembering. Then, feeling a tangle of emotions
far too complex to even try to sort through, she went downstairs.
“Better,” Maguire said, giving her a comprehensive look when she walked into the library. Putting down the newspaper, he got
to his feet.
“If you keep this up, I’m liable to get conceited,” she responded tartly.
He laughed, helped her on with her coat, and, with a word to Cyril, they were out the door.