spreads.”
“If you truly feel the need, Louisa, I shall make certain you do.”
A knock sounded on the doorframe and Miss Dunne entered. She wore her usual drab frock, but her hair blazed in the light of the chandelier, rich as flames, attracting the eye. James wondered if she knew how she demanded attention. Even Thaddeus was staring at her.
Courteously, James stood, catching Miss Castleton by surprise that he felt the need to do so. Catching himself by surprise as well. Miss Dunne has won me over . “This is Miss Dunne. Might I introduce Dr. Castleton and his sister, Miss Louisa Castleton?”
Miss Dunne’s gaze flicked over Miss Castleton. He would pay money to know what those eyes saw, what that mind thought.
She gave a quick curtsy. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. What did you wish, Dr. Edmunds?”
“Could you show Miss Castleton to the drawing room and make sure that refreshments are brought up? Coffeeand whatever else Mrs. Mainprice believes appropriate. Dr. Castleton and I shall be joining her there shortly.”
Thaddeus pulled back his sister’s chair and she rose, imperious. What she thought of Miss Dunne was evident in every rigid line of her face. “Take as long as you need, gentlemen,” she said. “I shall be perfectly all right in the company of this . . . charming young woman.”
“Please come with me, Miss Castleton,” said Miss Dunne. She was better at keeping her opinions concealed.
“A lovely young woman,” said Thaddeus, once they left the dining room. “For a creature of her class.”
How easily Thaddeus had placed Miss Dunne, assigned her the compartment all the newly arrived Irish occupied whether they belonged in it or not. James found it far more difficult to classify her, though. Was she the draw of an undertow? The soft murmur of twill skirts brushing across leather boots? The faintest scent of some wild Irish flower he had smelled on her hair when he’d carried her away from the injured apple girl?
Or something else entirely?
“Cigar?” Opening the cigar box, James withdrew one and held the box out to Thaddeus.
Thaddeus grinned at his cigar. “Ah, I shall miss these. Tell me that after you’ve married Louisa, you’ll let me come to Finchingfield House to smoke your excellent Havanas.”
“We need to talk about that, Thaddeus.” James lit his cigar off a chandelier candle and pulled in a long hot breath of smoke. The taste, which he usually enjoyed, was sour in his mouth. “I have no intention of asking Louisa to marryme. I don’t intend on asking anyone to marry me, ever. I am sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“A widower for the rest of your life . . . what an idiotic plan.”
“The reality, Thaddeus, is that marrying again would be the wrong thing for me to do. I don’t need another wife.”
“You do need a wife, like any sane man does. Even I finally gave in. Louisa would make the perfect mistress of your household. She is lovely, accomplished, well spoken. Knows not to mind what sort of hours you’d keep. I don’t understand why you are so unwilling to have her.”
“Because I do not love her.” A voice from his past haunted: “ Do you love me, James?”
He wasn’t sure he could love anyone.
“Is love a requirement for marriage?” Thaddeus asked, far too coolly. His wife was quiet and proper, an excellent hostess and calm companion, admired but not adored. Like most wives James knew.
“It is a requirement for me.” James flicked ash off his cigar onto a plate taken from the sideboard. Ash showered across the plate, off the edge, and onto the table.
“And what of Amelia? If you remarry, you could finally remove her from your sister-in-law’s care and bring her home. I know Mrs. Woodbridge has done a marvelous job, a task many a woman has done for a deceased sister, but Amelia needs both a mother and a father.”
The earlier itch along James’s spine returned. “Sophia will be moving to Finchingfield House with
“If you truly feel the need, Louisa, I shall make certain you do.”
A knock sounded on the doorframe and Miss Dunne entered. She wore her usual drab frock, but her hair blazed in the light of the chandelier, rich as flames, attracting the eye. James wondered if she knew how she demanded attention. Even Thaddeus was staring at her.
Courteously, James stood, catching Miss Castleton by surprise that he felt the need to do so. Catching himself by surprise as well. Miss Dunne has won me over . “This is Miss Dunne. Might I introduce Dr. Castleton and his sister, Miss Louisa Castleton?”
Miss Dunne’s gaze flicked over Miss Castleton. He would pay money to know what those eyes saw, what that mind thought.
She gave a quick curtsy. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. What did you wish, Dr. Edmunds?”
“Could you show Miss Castleton to the drawing room and make sure that refreshments are brought up? Coffeeand whatever else Mrs. Mainprice believes appropriate. Dr. Castleton and I shall be joining her there shortly.”
Thaddeus pulled back his sister’s chair and she rose, imperious. What she thought of Miss Dunne was evident in every rigid line of her face. “Take as long as you need, gentlemen,” she said. “I shall be perfectly all right in the company of this . . . charming young woman.”
“Please come with me, Miss Castleton,” said Miss Dunne. She was better at keeping her opinions concealed.
“A lovely young woman,” said Thaddeus, once they left the dining room. “For a creature of her class.”
How easily Thaddeus had placed Miss Dunne, assigned her the compartment all the newly arrived Irish occupied whether they belonged in it or not. James found it far more difficult to classify her, though. Was she the draw of an undertow? The soft murmur of twill skirts brushing across leather boots? The faintest scent of some wild Irish flower he had smelled on her hair when he’d carried her away from the injured apple girl?
Or something else entirely?
“Cigar?” Opening the cigar box, James withdrew one and held the box out to Thaddeus.
Thaddeus grinned at his cigar. “Ah, I shall miss these. Tell me that after you’ve married Louisa, you’ll let me come to Finchingfield House to smoke your excellent Havanas.”
“We need to talk about that, Thaddeus.” James lit his cigar off a chandelier candle and pulled in a long hot breath of smoke. The taste, which he usually enjoyed, was sour in his mouth. “I have no intention of asking Louisa to marryme. I don’t intend on asking anyone to marry me, ever. I am sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“A widower for the rest of your life . . . what an idiotic plan.”
“The reality, Thaddeus, is that marrying again would be the wrong thing for me to do. I don’t need another wife.”
“You do need a wife, like any sane man does. Even I finally gave in. Louisa would make the perfect mistress of your household. She is lovely, accomplished, well spoken. Knows not to mind what sort of hours you’d keep. I don’t understand why you are so unwilling to have her.”
“Because I do not love her.” A voice from his past haunted: “ Do you love me, James?”
He wasn’t sure he could love anyone.
“Is love a requirement for marriage?” Thaddeus asked, far too coolly. His wife was quiet and proper, an excellent hostess and calm companion, admired but not adored. Like most wives James knew.
“It is a requirement for me.” James flicked ash off his cigar onto a plate taken from the sideboard. Ash showered across the plate, off the edge, and onto the table.
“And what of Amelia? If you remarry, you could finally remove her from your sister-in-law’s care and bring her home. I know Mrs. Woodbridge has done a marvelous job, a task many a woman has done for a deceased sister, but Amelia needs both a mother and a father.”
The earlier itch along James’s spine returned. “Sophia will be moving to Finchingfield House with
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