“Thank you, Menkle.”
“Where is Eliott, Menkle?”
“In the library, Miss Cassie, reviewing the account ledgers, I believe.”
Cassie laughed. “Poor Eliott, I’ll wager he is muttering to himself and tugging his hair. Guilder was here all morning—our agent, you know—and left Eliott frantically toting up columns of numbers. He will be pleased to be rescued, Edward.”
Eliott Brougham, fourth Baron Tinnsdale, was in fact staring past his account books out over the east lawn, a young lady in his thoughts. He started guiltily every few minutes and forced his attention back to his task. He looked up, startled, as Cassie burst unceremoniously into the library.
“Close your books, my love, for I’ve a surprise for you.”
“What, Cass, you’ve finally caught that large sea bass for my dinner?”
“It’s not a fish, Eliott, but I trust that I have finally caught him.”
“Edward. Good God, man, it’s been ages.” Eliott quickly rose to shake Edward Lyndhurst’s outstretched hand.
“I trust we do not disturb you, Eliott. This madcap sister of yours dragged me in here without a by-your-leave.” He has become a man, Edward thought, gazing at Cassie’s brother. Though he had the same open, smiling face, three years had added firmness to his jaw, and his light blue eyes seemed to hold widened experience, if not wisdom.
“I am quite used to her bursting in upon me.” Eliott laughed. “I am only safe when I am taking my bath.”
“Edward is home to stay, Eliott,” Cassie said, tugging at her brother’s sleeve, “forever.”
“Oh?” Eliott said carefully, his eyes upon Edward’s face.
“As Cass said, Eliott, she’s finally caught me,” Edward said blandly.
“He kissed me, Eliott. Would you not say that he has compromised me irrevocably? He must now do the honorable thing.”
“I think what he should do first, Cass, is join us in a glass of sherry. Despite all your letters, Captain Lord Delford, I vow we have a good deal of catching up to do.”
“Your letters were so terribly military, Edward,” Cassie said by way of explanation, “that I saw no reason for Eliott not to read them. There was only one that I did not show him, for he would have been obliged to call you out.”
“To your safe return home, Edward,” Eliott said as he clicked his sherry glass to Edward’s, then to his sister’s.
“To a new beginning,” Cassie said.
“To a continuation of a long ago beginning,” Edward said.
“Let us sit down,” Eliott said. He had often wondered if Cassie’s lifelong infatuation for Edward would endure into adulthood, but as he watched them, he could not doubt that it had. He saw their eyes meet, and although they made no move to touch each other, they might as well have been locked together.
Eliott cleared his throat. “Your mother is well, Edward?”
“She enjoys her ill health, as always. Uncle Edgar’s death came as something of a shock to her.”
“Your uncle was an honorable gentleman,” Eliott said. “Your estate was in capable hands. Speaking of hands, Edward, did that shoulder wound you suffered a couple of years ago heal well?”
“Not even a twinge now. I was fortunate e
nough to fall into the care of a sober surgeon. In India, that commodity is hard to find.”
“I insist upon seeing the scar,” Cassie said.
Eliott frowned at his sister. “Really, Cass, Edward will think that you have not been properly raised. You should have seen her, Edward, when you finally wrote of your wound. She was like a raging virago, and if it had not been for my calm good sense, I think she would have sailed her sloop to India by herself.”
“I was very worried, though speaking of Eliott and good sense together is far off the mark. But since he became Baron Tinnsdale, he is so full of self-consequence that he must needs continually make up all sorts of outrageous qualities for himself.”
“At least his idea of good sense does not include swimming like some sea nymph in the ocean or taking his life in his hands in a rickety sailboat.”