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of others were flirting with Joia, engagement ring or not, and two young
officers in Horse Guards uniform were asking Merry about the hunt and
the horses. Mr. Rendell stood aside, stroking the ears of Merry's dog, who
was quiet for once, exhausted by the commotion. Before Holly could seek
out one sister or the other, Bartholemew announced dinner.
Comfort escorted Joia to the dining room, and Evan went right along
with them, pursuing his conversation with the viscount, followed by his
other military-minded friends. Merry was between her two soldiers,
leaving Holly to fend for herself.
Really, Holly thought, Evan should have made sure she was escorted.
His father seemed to agree, for Mr. Rendell bowed before her and silently
offered his arm. "Unmannered pup," he muttered. She didn't think he
meant Merry's dog.
Evan was seated next to her, but he might have been at the opposite
end of the table for all the conversation they had. With so few ladies
present, talk was general, loud, and devoted almost entirely to equestrian
pursuits. Mr. Rendell, Holly noted, seated next to Mama, added little to
the cheerful hum. Evan obviously inherited his love of horses from his
mother's side of the family, as well as his outgoing nature. Perhaps Mr.
Rendell had done him a favor after all, she considered, leaving Evan to be
raised by the Blakelys. A father cold enough to walk away from his own
motherless son wouldn't be much of a parent.
During the last course, Evan told Holly that they had to talk later, he
had great news to tell her. She wasn't surprised when he came to sit beside
her at the pianoforte after dinner, but she was startled when her mother
suggested Holly take Evan to see the new family portrait hanging in the
library. Evan didn't care about art; the countess did care about the
conventions. Therefore, Holly concluded, Mama must also favor the
match.
Lady Carroll watched her middle daughter go off with her old playmate,
certain that a few minutes spent alone with the likable, light-minded Evan
would convince Hollice they wouldn't suit.
Evan didn't bother looking at the portrait over the mantel. He grabbed
one of Holly's hands and tugged her to the sofa, where he sat sideways,
facing her. "Capital news, Hol. M'father says he'll purchase my colors as
soon as I've got an heir. So what do you say we get buckled, old girl?"
Holly could see herself, frail and bent, with a sweet little girl at her
knees asking, "How did Grandfather propose, Grandma?" And she'd have
to repeat: " 'So what do you say we get buckled, old girl?' "
She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, so she stalled. "Why can't
your father get his own successor after you? He's certainly young enough,
much younger than I expected. I daresay he's no older than my mother."
"He's six and thirty, and he doesn't care about that flummery of an heir
and a spare. It's Grandfather Blakely who won't have any closer kin to take
over if I cash in my chips, which I don't intend to do anytime soon. The old
boy is set on having his way, though, so this is the best I can manage.
What do you think?"
"About your signing up? I hate it, Evan. Bullets and cannon-balls don't
care about your intentions to live forever."
"No, goose, about us getting legshackled. M'father says we can have
Rendell Hall. I know how you like managing things, so that should please
you. Or else you could live with m'grandparents. They could use some help
now that they're getting on."
They'd been getting on since Holly was a child. Now they were getting
curmudgeonly. "Evan, are you telling me that I have my choice of residing
at Rendell Hall or Blakely Manor after we're wed, while you are off with
the army?"
"I didn't suppose you'd want to stay on here with your parents, but if
that's what'll make you happy, Holly, I'm sure your father won't mind, the
way he dotes on you girls."
"You don't think I ought to be with my husband?"
"What, at the front? That's no place for a lady, Holly. I'd be a hundred
kinds of cad to drag you off to live in a tent and cook your own supper and
wash your clothes in a stream." He waved his hand around at the luxury of
Winterpark. "After this? Don't be a hen-wit, Holly. Think of the child."
And don't think of having an adventure of your own, she extrapolated
from his words, just stay all cozy and safe, breeding Berkshire Blakelys,
raising rural Rendells. While her husband was off getting killed.
Evan could sense her lack of enthusiasm for the plan, perhaps by the
way she was tapping her foot and shaking her head. "It won't be for long,
Holly. I'll be back soon and we can go to London, do the sights and all. Or
Bath. But if I don't get to go now, Boney'll be defeated and I'll never see [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]