Still, it was a difficult claim to dispute and one that went beyond her looks. She’d acquired a certain grace. She exuded energy and good will as she moved through the room on Channing’s arm, chatting briefly with each neighbour and relative by turn. Some she knew, some she did not, but her warmth didn’t distinguish. It was genuine and thorough for each person she met.
Finn remembered that about her. She’d been devoted to wounded and stray animals, always bringing home a bird to be mended. Once she’d brought home a stray dog from the village and begged him to set the pup’s leg. It had been silly, but he’d done it after she’d followed him around all afternoon and nagged him with a tenacity that would have done any little sister proud.
The pair of them were making their way towards him now, a stunning combination of flame and gold. Channing bent to her ear and whispered something that made her laugh, her face turning up to his. Finn’s gut clenched. The look on her face was unmistakable. She wanted Channing. ‘Wanted’ might be too intense a word, but he’d been accused of being too intense a man in the past. Intense things were common to him.
‘There you are, dear brother. What are you doing over here by the window? Surely there aren’t any flowers to see at this time of year, not outdoors at least. Inside, there is one, however.’ Channing smiled at Catherine. ‘Our Cat has blossomed. Have you greeted her yet?’
Finn stifled a grimace. Channing knew very well he hadn’t. ‘Welcome home, Catherine.’ He kissed her cheek, breathing in the scent of her: fresh peaches and a hint of vanilla, to subdue the potential heaviness of the scent. ‘Ah, Apocynaceae, plumeria in winter, what a wondrous perfume.’ Finn murmured. ‘You always liked Mother’s plumeria.’ The beautiful blooms never left the hothouse, but Catherine had liked their vivid colours and tropical smells.
‘You remembered!’ Catherine beamed and he felt uncommonly proud of himself for his simple answer. ‘People always guess peaches, but no one guesses what flower is used. I’ve heard plumeria also smells like coconut.’ She nudged Channing. ‘You thought it smelled like roses.’
Finn laughed. ‘He thinks everything smells like roses.’
Channing took the ribbing in his stride. ‘As you can see, he’s the same old Finn, still has his nose in the flowers.’
A stir across the room at the door caught their attention, as another guest entered, a lovely blonde dressed in royal blue with a white fox fur thrown around her shoulders. Channing tossed him a quick meaningful glance and excused himself. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up while I greet our latest arrival.’
If Catherine thought Channing’s departure abrupt, she was still gracious about relinquishing him, but not before Finn noted the fleeting disappointment in her eyes. ‘Who is she?’ Catherine asked brightly, moving to stand by him at the window. It was a good vantage point, really, from which to take in the room or the outdoors depending on one’s mood.
‘That is Lady Alina Marliss. She is Channing’s special friend for the holidays.’ Finn didn’t say more. He owed Channing his privacy. If Channing wanted to share his latest venture in London, he would. It wasn’t Finn’s job to do it for him.
‘Is there an understanding between them?’ The cool look on Catherine’s face confirmed his information had been construed in a certain way, certain assumptions made. He knew what she was thinking. Well, if that wasn’t quite accurate, that was Channing’s problem too. There were merits to being forthcoming about one’s activities. Channing would learn that soon enough.
‘I’m not aware of the details.’ Finn replied obliquely. He turned his attention out the window, away from the room, hoping she’d do the same. ‘Tell me about Paris. Did you find it to your liking?’
‘It was wonderful.’ She smiled out into the gardens, keeping her response neutral and vague. ‘But it wasn’t here. It wasn’t home.’
He understood that feeling all too well. There was something magical, something comforting about being home even while there was a stifling, restless side to all that comfort, too. Lately, he’d been feeling the latter.
‘And you? I heard you spent some time in the Caribbean with an expedition?’
Finn looked down at her, caught in the warmth of her smile as she looked up at him, aware that she was spending an awful lot of her time studying the little cut on his cheek. He echoed her words even if he didn’t mean them in exactly the same way. ‘It was wonderful, but it wasn’t home.’