Chapter 15 #2
The words caught her off guard. Catriona’s expression remained open, without mockery or condescension, only a straight and honest inquiry.
“Not uncomfortable,” Eloise said carefully. “Only …”
“Only?”
She recalled the table, the conversation, the way she had gone still in the middle of the meal for reasons she still had not addressed with herself. “Only surprised that a stranger would take such an interest.”
“That is fair,” Catriona said, and they walked a few steps farther along the path together. The air had warmed slightly, a few bees drifting among the flowers. The garden was quiet except for the distant sounds of the house preparing for the carnival.
“You teach the children all day?” Catriona asked.
“Yes.”
“And in the evenings too?”
“Sometimes.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“It is worth it.”
“Yes,” Catriona said, turning to look at her. “I imagine it is.” The way she said it sounded sincere, not probing, not flattering, simply understanding, which made Eloise more wary than she liked.
Catriona stopped near the edge of the path and folded her hands lightly in front of her. “Duncan is clever. He watched me during breakfast as though deciding whether I meant to eat the silver.”
Eloise huffed softly. “That sounds like Duncan.”
“Maisie is much warmer.”
“She likes you.”
“I am glad.”
“She likes anyone who compliments her drawings.”
“I should remember that,” Catriona said, and Eloise glanced at her before looking away again. Catriona seemed genuinely pleased by the children, which was somehow both comforting and inconvenient.
“I do not often visit households such as this one anymore,” Catriona said, after a brief pause.
Eloise looked at her. The widow’s expression remained calm but not distant, and when she spoke again her tone was thoughtful rather than sorrowful.
“My husband had a house in Edinburgh. We entertained there often enough. But after he died, I found I had little taste for staying where people expected me to be cheerful.”
Eloise did not answer.
“I assume you know what I mean,” Catriona said, her mouth curving faintly.
“Yes,” Eloise said. “I think I do.”
Catriona nodded. “I am sorry for your own position.”
Eloise blinked. “You have only just met me.”
“Yes. But I have eyes.” The words were dry enough to make Eloise nearly smile, and she looked down at the shears in her hand instead.
“I have found,” Catriona went on, “that when one household is too full of grief, it can become difficult to tell where the sorrow begins and the habit of it ends. I hope that does not sound intrusive.”
“No,” Eloise said at once. “It does not.”
“I only meant to say that I am sorry if I seemed abrupt at dinner.”
“You did not.”
“I am relieved.” They stood there for a moment. Catriona looked toward the house, her expression mild and comfortable. “I notice the little thing Jamie does with his face.”
Eloise’s head turned before she could stop herself. “What?”
“The little gesture.” Catriona lifted one hand and made a brief motion near her own cheek. “When he is aware of his scar.”
Eloise’s chest ached. “I have also noticed.”
“I thought you might have.” The remark was simple. Too simple. Eloise looked at her carefully, but Catriona’s expression remained neutral enough to be impossible to read too deeply. “He was once very good company.”
The statement struck somewhere Eloise had not meant to expose, and she looked away first. Catriona did not press. “I liked him then,” she said instead.
Eloise’s fingers tightened around the shears. The words carried no heat and no longing. Simply stated. Not quite a confession. More like a fact that had never needed hiding.
“My husband had many admirable qualities,” Catriona added, with a small breath and no apparent discomfort, “but he was not Jamie.” She went on, “I was sorry to hear he left the Navy. I heard after my husband had died, and I found myself remembering that Jamie had once been a very different sort of man. Then I learned he was here, and I thought it would be proper to call.” She turned to Eloise with a smile that was half apology and half candor.
“And if I seem to know him too well, it is because I do.”
There was no boast in it, and no warning either. Only a statement, which was somehow the most difficult thing of all.
Eloise gave a small nod, not trusting her voice.
“I do hope I have not intruded on your working day,” Catriona said.
“Not at all.”
“Good.” Her smile softened. “Then perhaps I shall continue to intrude a little, if you do not object.”
That startled a laugh from Eloise before she could stop it, and Catriona looked faintly pleased by it. “I should be sorry to lose a household so quickly,” she said. “It is so much more interesting than I expected.”
Eloise did not quite know whether to be amused or alarmed.
Probably both. She found, to her immense dismay, that she liked Lady Catriona.
That was the worst of it. Not because Catriona had been false, but because she had not been.
She was kind, sharp-eyed, and easy in a room, exactly the sort of woman one might trust in a difficult situation.
Eloise, who had braced herself for judgment, found herself unexpectedly relieved instead.
“I am glad to have met you, Miss Beauchamp,” Catriona said, before she left.
“And I you,” Eloise said, nodding.
Catriona smiled and walked away down the path, leaving Eloise standing with the shears in hand and the unnerving sensation that her opinion of nearly everyone in the house had grown more complicated than it had any right to be.
***
She dressed more carefully for the carnival than she meant to, which annoyed her. She should not have cared whether the day dress was the best one she owned. She should not have checked the fit of her gloves twice or lingered over her hair arrangement longer than was strictly necessary.
And yet she did. The dress was pale and simple, but clean and well cut, with ribbons at the waist that matched the trim on her bonnet.
By the time she went to collect the children, Maisie was already vibrating with excitement in the hall, a ribbon in her hair and an expression of delighted impatience that made her look younger than usual.
Duncan, by contrast, was pretending not to care, though he had combed his hair flat, which told Eloise everything she needed to know.
“Are you ready?” she asked, straightening Maisie’s ribbon.
“Yes,” Maisie said at once.
“If we have to go,” Duncan muttered.
“You sound ecstatic,” Eloise said.
“I am being sensible.”
“Of course you are.” He glowered, which she considered a success.
The children followed her downstairs, Maisie skipping ahead and then back again to ensure she did not lose anyone, Duncan remaining close enough to be annoyed by the pace and too close to admit he wanted to see anything at all.
When they entered the lower hall, Jamie had already joined Catriona near the doorway, dressed more carefully than usual. Not formal. Not stiff. Simply more considered than his ordinary house attire, an effect subtle and somehow more startling because of it.
His head turned slightly as they arrived, and his eyes met Eloise’s, and then his hand rose to the scarred side of his face. It was a gesture so small it seemed to be unconscious.
Eloise’s gaze dropped at once. Frustration rose before she could stop it.
The gesture reminded her how often she noticed him now, and how difficult it had become to ignore.
The study had not helped. Nor had the library or the way he had looked at her when he told her she was not the daughter of her father’s debts.
“Miss Beauchamp,” Catriona said, smiling.
“Lady Catriona.”
Jamie looked from one to the other. It occurred to Eloise, in one swift and distinctly irritating flash, that the two of them might have more in common than she liked. The idea made her absurdly uncomfortable, and she did not know why.
“Your governess is proving an excellent addition to the household,” Catriona said to Jamie.
The praise pleased him visibly. Not a flashy reaction, but better than that. A small straightening of his posture. A softened line at his mouth. The look he gave Eloise afterward made her cheeks warm despite herself.
“Indeed,” he said, and the word sounded sincere. Proud, even, which was more dangerous than plain admiration would have been.
“Then you were wise to hire her,” Catriona said, watching him with mild amusement.
“Very wise,” Jamie said, his eyes meeting Eloise’s for a second. The warmth in his voice reached her too directly. She felt it with dismay, and apparently Catriona did too, because her expression softened.
The front door opened, and Lawrence entered as though the architecture itself was expecting him. Immaculate, of course, his coat perfect, his collar too, his hair not a strand out of place. He greeted the room with smooth confidence, and his gaze swept the household before resting on Eloise.
“Miss Beauchamp,” he said, smiling immediately.
“My lord.”
“I trust you are ready for the day.”
“Yes.”