Chapter Seven #3
There was a beat of long, uncomfortable silence. She realized an easiness with him was gone, banished by a budding sense of regret.
Perhaps she had been wrong in her thinking. She’d said she’d felt nothing but friendship that summer years ago, and yet his defecting without a reason had stayed with her. He’d hurt her more than if what she’d felt had been friendship alone.
The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Pomfrey and their daughter, Miss Susanne. Thea had no need to talk as they monopolized Neal.
Very shortly, Lord and Lady Montvale and their daughter joined the group. Lady Montvale was not happy to see the Pomfreys there but didn’t hesitate to elbow the Pomfreys aside.
Mirabel came up beside Thea. “Did you notice the elbow? Interesting how quickly friendship dies.”
“Imagine how it will be if he chooses one over the other,” Thea said.
“All I know is that when I return to London, I shall dine for a week on stories of hosting Vanessa Montvale and Sarah Pomfrey. My tale will be all the more delicious because of this little feud.” She smiled at Thea and then raised her voice.
“Come, everyone, dinner is served. Lord Lyon, will you escort me to the table?”
“I would be honored, my lady.”
Mirabel’s chef had prepared an excellent repast of pheasant, venison, and numerous side dishes. There was one hastily cooked beef dish. Wine and cider flowed freely.
After dinner they all returned to the sitting room, where each young woman had the opportunity to show off her talents. Lady Cynthia did indeed have a lovely voice. Miss Susanne entertained them with a complicated piece for the pianoforte, Neal sitting beside her on the bench turning pages.
But the others sang and played instruments as well. Lady Lila had even brought her own violin and walked over to Neal as she played it. She stood in front of him, the music a mournful piece, which she turned into a lively jig.
If this had been another gathering, there might have been dancing, but since each young woman was in competition with the other, the atmosphere was rather tense.
Thea kept an eye on Neal. She told herself it was important she gauge his reaction to each candidate.
She also had a personal interest. She found herself hoping he chose exactly the wrong woman. Then she could label him as shallow, which would put a dent in the noble armor he wore in her mind.
For his part, Neal complimented everyone and managed to spend a few minutes of private conversation with each girl. However, he appeared happy when Mirabel announced that, with the hunt tomorrow, it would be an early day and perhaps they should all retire.
There was a comical moment when not one girl wished to leave before Neal and the others did. They all hovered around him. He was too polite to just leave, so it was up to Thea to extract him from the group. Everyone followed them up the stairs for the night.
Before he turned the corner to go to his room, Neal managed to place himself beside Thea. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“That was my wish,” she said brittlely. Yes, the girls were lovely and had impeccable bloodlines and connections—but their characters were sorely lacking. He must see that? Mustn’t he?
He glanced around. The two of them were at the crossway of the two halls. The fathers had gone immediately into their rooms. Their wives and daughters lingered by their doorways. A few of the girls even gave Neal little waves good night.
“And you have chosen well,” he whispered, conscious that they were being watched. “I don’t think I could fall in love with any of them. Thank you, Thea.”
He didn’t say those words happily, and Thea felt a great weight settle on her shoulders. He was pleased. “You are welcome, my lord.”
He nodded and went to his room. Thea watched him open his door and disappear inside, a hollow feeling inside her. Always before, she’d felt good about putting two people together, but not this time. Neal was making a mistake wanting to marry one of these women. She knew it.
And she also felt strangely deflated.
So she took her heart and closed it off.
Thea went on the hunt with those who wished to go. It was exhilarating to be on a horse again. She’d practically grown up on them but, of course, had not been riding in years.
Lady Lila truly was an outstanding horsewoman and kept up with Neal the whole way. But it was Lady Sophie with whom he spent a good deal of time. The two of them rode back to Bennington Abbey together and seemed to be enjoying their conversation.
Thea didn’t know who was the more jealous—Lady Lila or herself.
Neal’s face was relaxed, and Lady Sophie laughed with giddy pleasure. Thea knew he’d wanted a woman he could not love, but did that mean he’d wanted a ninny-headed one?
Nor did he and Lady Sophie part company when they returned to the house, even upon discovering Sir James had arrived. Of course, the lawyer could easily take care of himself. He knew most of the other guests and fit right into their company.
“Lyon is showing a decided preference,” Mirabel whispered in passing after dinner. “I would not have thought it. I spoke to Lady Sophie this morning over breakfast. She is not bright.”
“She’s kind,” Thea said.
“Damp praise,” Mirabel murmured.
Thea looked at her. “Do you mean ‘faint’ praise?”
A secret smile came to her friend’s lips. “That, too.” She leaned close. “Of course it shouldn’t matter to you.”
Did Mirabel see she was jealous? “It doesn’t.”
“Of course not,” Mirabel agreed smoothly. “That’s why you scowl every time you look in their direction.”
Thea’s immediate reaction was to school her features into a smile. She even lifted a hand to her forehead as if in thought, when in truth she wanted to be certain she didn’t have a frown line.
Mirabel chuckled. “Don’t worry. You are not the only one. We have a host of disgruntled women here.” She floated away to see to her guests.
Thea crossed her arms. Mirabel was wrong. She didn’t give a care whom Neal chose.
Still, it wasn’t easy to watch Neal and Lady Sophie with their heads together over a game of cards after dinner. A part of Thea wanted to chide him over not paying more attention to the others. It seemed her responsibility. Then again, if she did approach him, would he think her jealous?
She stayed on her side of the room.
Lord Corkindale came up to her side. “My daughter is disappointed. She had thought there was a connection between herself and his lordship this afternoon.”