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Royston Meredith ignored his father and crossed to the sideboard over which hung a full-length portrait of his mother, the late Viscountess Salkeld, in her prime, a most regal and beautiful woman, with dark hair and dark eyes, and whom he, perhaps most of her five children, resembled greatly. He had not only inherited her beauty but her love of animals and the outdoors. He also had her forbearance. Finding the whiskey decanter and glasses, he poured himself out a drop, raised it to her, then downed it in one. He then joined his father and sister, who were looking concerned.
“Forgive my lateness, Edie. I had the muck removed and polish applied to my boots, but there was no time to shave or to change for your party.”
Edith glanced him over, from polished boots to knitted riding breeches, to the slightly crumpled dark wool riding frock coat with silver buttons, and on up to his windswept black curls that were inexpertly scraped back and tied at the nape with a ribbon. Her frown lifted. He was most handsome when slightly disheveled, the shadow of stubble on his square chin and cheeks adding to his manliness. Far from being offended by his appearance as was her father, she was pleased he had not shaved or changed, all because she wanted Cousin Helen to see him at his best.
This tea party might be an occasion for Carlisle society to celebrate her upcoming wedding to the wealthiest Scotsman this side of Edinburgh, but it also proved the perfect excuse to have her brother and Cousin Helen in the same room for the first time in years. And with both attending her wedding, they could not help but be in each other’s company. She only hoped there was enough time to achieve the desired outcome. She would not have been so confident about her matchmaking machinations had she not the help of her father, her sister, and her darling Sir James, with the couple none the wiser.
“You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she said brightly, and quickly schooled her features lest he wonder at her unusual buoyancy. Discussing medicine never failed to divert his thoughts to what truly mattered most. “And the Waugh boy . . . Was it a break?”
“A dislocated shoulder, nothing more gruesome.”
“That is a relief. For everyone. I dare say he won’t be astride for a while?”
“Not for several weeks.”
“If you ask me, the sooner the boy gets back in the saddle, the better!” Lord Salkeld said.
Royston Meredith rolled his eyes at his sister before saying levelly to his father, “We did not ask you, sir. It is as well for Colin I am the physician in the family.”
Lord Salkeld gave a dismissive snort.
“This family does not require a physician, sir. What it requires is an heir thinking about marriage, not gallivanting about the countryside attending on fools and miscreants as if he were their servant. It is your wedding we should be attending—”
“Papa! Remember: two eyes, one mouth.”
Lord Salkeld instantly shut his mouth, but he did not allow his daughter’s chastisement to stop him from grumbling under his breath. Royston was surprised and intrigued to see his cantankerous parent suddenly docile and was about to ask Edith what she meant by two eyes, one mouth, when she made a pronouncement that had him not only forget the question, but that he had a mouth at all.
“Ah, here is Cousin Helen come at last!”
A woman of above-average height with slender limbs and a swanlike grace glided across the carpet, and every head turned to watch her pass by. She wore a pale-blue silk gown à la anglaise with a fringed paisley shawl draped off her shoulders and over her arms. But it was at the messy abundance of bright red curls, piled up and pinned and looking as if at any moment the weight would topple and the long tresses tumble to the small of her back, that Royston’s eyes fixed. His throat dried. He swallowed. The dryness remained. He managed to pull his gaze away from her coiffure to look into her eyes. They were the same light blue as her gown. They stared back at him, bright and unblinking. His cheeks flushed with heat. He dropped his gaze, but not away from her. It fixed on her mouth. If her hair had dried his throat and her eyes made him blush, her slightly parted lips sent him deaf. There was a sudden buzzing in his ears he could not explain.
Finally, he tore his gaze away when she bobbed a respectful curtsy to his father, then leaned in to kiss the old nobleman’s forehead. Royston had no idea what she said to make his father chuckle because the buzzing was still in his ears. She then spoke to Edith before surprising him by turning and addressing him directly.
He did not hear her words, so he could not give a reply. He hoped a curt nod would suffice. He was still in a mental fog. And that fog had him hurtling back to the last time he had seen Cousin Helen. It was a little over a year ago, when his greatest wish had finally come true. She had been made a widow and was free again, free to re-marry, and thus free to be his again. But the truth of the matter was she had never really been his, ever. She might now be a widow and able to marry whomever she pleased, but he was very sure that he would never be that whomever.
On that sudden depressing realization, his ears went pop, and his hearing returned.
“Oh, do not concern yourself, my lord,” Cousin Helen was saying. “I am reconciled to it. Cousin Royston was just as talkative the last time we were in each other’s company, and just as polite. To be fair to us both, that was a somber occasion, whereas this”—she smiled brightly at Edith and affectionately touched the young woman’s arm—“this is something different entirely. It is a joyous occasion and one I am exceedingly happy to celebrate with . . . with—” She glanced at Royston, who still stood as a plank beside his sister. “With you all!” She then looked about her as if she had lost something or someone. “But where is Grace?”