“I find myself envious,” she murmured, her eyes stinging.
“It is not too late, madam.” He hesitated. “You can have such a relationship with your brother. With your parents gone, you need the closeness of family.”
Her throat was tight with the emotions she didn’t want to reveal. His kindness had shown through in his letters, and now, seeing it in person, made her feel so very confused.
“So I have your approval?” he urged.
“Are you asking for it?” She spoke softly, wondering about the kind of husband he’d be.
“He is your brother.”
“So if I asked you to leave him alone, you would?”
He regarded her solemnly. “He is in need of an older male influence, but yes, I would abide by your wishes.”
She realized she’d been holding her breath, and she let it out slowly. “Very well. You have my permission to attempt the battle of Oliver.”
His head tipped back as if in surprise. “He’s been as bad as all that?”
“No, no, but it is you who make it seem like he’s your new campaign.”
“I am a soldier; I see much of life like a battle to be mastered and won.”
“And do you often win, my lord?” she asked softly.
“Almost always, my lady.”
He’d lowered his voice until it was a deep rumble that reverberated through her. Again, she felt a twinge of intriguing danger, which she would do her best to ignore. She was responsible for Oliver, and she’d vowed never again to fail a member of her family.
The door swung open, and Penelope entered like a floral spring breeze. “Hello, Cecilia!” she trilled, then came to a stop upon seeing Lord Blackthorne, her happy smile fading to pleased curiosity. “Oh, I am interrupting you.”
Lord Blackthorne rose stiffly to his feet. “Good morning, Miss Webster.”
“You are always welcome, Penelope,” Cecilia said, finding herself relieved.
Hesitantly, the young woman said, “Did you remember that we were going to paint the autumn colors of your garden after luncheon? But we don’t have to, of course. Circumstances have obviously changed.” She gave Lord Blackthorne a bright smile.
Cecilia knew Penelope was thrilled with the revelation of Lord Blackthorne. But then she was very much like her sister, Hannah, who’d been a firm believer in true love. For a moment, melancholia rose inside her at the senseless drowning of her dear friend. Every death seemed to buffet Cecilia in a new direction.
“Of course we’ll still paint,” she said, grateful that she had the other woman to remind her that there was more to life than business.
“Oh, I’m glad,” Penelope said. “Talbot asked me to tell you that luncheon will be served in half an hour.”
Cecilia glanced at the mantel clock in surprise. The morning had passed swiftly. “We’ll be there.”
She expected Lord Blackthorne to follow Penelope out of the study, but after a couple limping steps, leaning heavily on his cane, he turned back to her.
“Miss Webster was introduced to me as Appertan’s fiancée. For a young man still living wildly, the engagement seems unusual.”
“They grew up in constant contact, as the Websters have long leased a manor from the estate.”
“And Miss Webster was determined she would be the next countess?” Lord Blackthorne asked.
“I never had that feeling,” Cecilia said, blinking in surprise.
“Then whose idea was it?”
She rose to her feet. “When my brother announced the engagement, I did not question what had gone on privately between them. I trusted their feelings. Oliver plans to wait until at least his twenty-first birthday to set a wedding date, which will give them time to decide if such a match truly suits.”
