Then he heard another voice, and his surprise was complete.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been able to get the threads to lie just so.”
Leonora.
“Ah, well, dear, what you need to do—”
He didn’t take in the rest of Ethelreda’s advice; he was too busy speculating on what had brought Leonora there.
The discussion in the morning room continued, Leonora inviting advice, his old dears taking great delight in supplying it.
Vivid in his mind was that piece of embroidery lying discarded in the parlor in Montrose Place. Leonora might have no talent for embroidery, but he’d have sworn she had no real interest in it, either.
Curiosity pricked. The nearest flower arrangement was tall enough to conceal him. Two swift steps and he was behind it. Peering between the lilies and chrysanthemums, he saw Leonora seated in the middle of one of the chaises surrounded on all sides by his collection of old dears.
Winter sunlight poured through the window at her back, a glimmering wash spilling over her, striking garnet glints from her coronet of dark hair yet leaving her face and its delicate features in faint and mysterious shadow. In her dark red walking dress, she looked like a medieval madonna, an embodiment of feminine virtue and passion, of feminine strength and fragility.
Head bowed, she was examining an embroidered anti-macassar laid across her knees.
He watched her encourage her elderly audience to tell her more, to participate. Also saw her step in, swiftly tamping down a sudden spurt of rivalry, soothing both parties with tactful observations.
She had them captivated.
And not only them.
He heard the words in his mind.
Inwardly humphed.
Yet he didn’t turn away. Silent, he simply stood, watching her through the screen of flowers.
“Ah—my lord!”
With incomparable reflexes, he stepped forward and turned, his back to the morning room. They’d be able to see him, but the movement would make it seem he’d just walked by.
He viewed his butler with a resigned eye. “Yes, Havers?”
“A lady has called, my lord. A Miss Carling.”
“Ah! Trentham!”
He turned as Ethelreda called.
Millie stood and beckoned. “We have Miss Carling here.”
All six beamed at him. With a nod of dismissal to Havers, he stepped down and crossed toward the group, not quite certain of the impression he was receiving—almost as if they believed they’d been keeping Leonora there, trapped, cornered, some special delight just for him.
She rose, a light blush in her cheeks. “Your cousins have been very kind in keeping me company.” She met his gaze. “I came because there have been developments in Montrose Place that I believe you should know.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for coming. Let’s repair to the library, and you can tell me your news.” He held out his hand; inclining her head, she surrendered hers.
He drew her from the midst of his elderly champions, nodded to them. “Thank you for entertaining Miss Carling for me.”
He had no doubt of the thoughts behind their brilliant smiles.
“Oh, we enjoyed it.”
“So delightful…”