He eased away again and listened to Lady Wrexham’s next song, a more cheerful Scottish tune that others knew well and she invited all to join in. Which gave Lettie an opportunity to lean her shoulder against his chest, yet again. “I was so busy thinking of myself that I neglected to tell you how handsome you look tonight. The women were swooning over you. Miss Blair and Mrs. Blevin declared you the handsomest man they’d ever met. I heartily agreed.”
“Thank you, Lettie.” Was she ever going to pull away?
“You know what’s odd? My heart tugged when I saw you earlier in the parlor just before we left for this party. You were standing in shadow and looking up at the stars. Did you notice the sky? One half of it was clear as mountain water, filled with stars and a bright moon, while the other side of the sky was hidden under the cover of clouds.”
He nodded. “I did notice.”
“I wonder if it’s an omen. I think we’re getting closer, clearing away the clouds to your identity. I’m sure this is Jeremiah’s way of telling us to persevere, that we are getting close. You’ll see. When we leave tonight, the clouds will all be gone, chased away by the winds of truth.”
“Winds of truth? Seriously, Lettie?” He rocked back in his chair, not wishing to be cruel to her, but he hated seeing the hopeful look in her eyes when he knew there was no hope. “Did you have a chance to look at the de Wolfe portrait gallery?”
She nodded. “You’re purposely being mean to me, Brynne.”
“I’m not. But you know bloody well that not a single portrait among the twenty or so hanging on the walls resembled me. There are no winds of truth out there, Lettie. Just cold, bitter air.”
“We only had a quick look at them. You can’t tell. And there is too such a thing as the winds of truth. You’ll see. The clouds will be gone and we’ll have a clear, starry night.”
When the evening was over, Lettie charged outside ahead of him to look at the sky. She looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, Brynne.”
He put a gentle hand on her slumped shoulders. The sky was covered in thick layers of clouds. “It’s just the weather, Lettie. Not an omen.”
Farewells were exchanged with their host and hostess who reminded them to come around tomorrow. Then their carriage was brought around and Lettie was once more swallowed up in the fur Frances had loaned her as she settled against the leather squabs. Now that the three of them were alone, they had the chance to exchange stories. “Lady Wrexham invited us to use their library,” she explained to Frances. “She suggested we go over there tomorrow and spend the day researching the de Wolfe records. Afterward, we’re invited to tea.”
Brynne nodded. “Her husband made me the same offer.”
Lettie continued to address Frances. “Do you mind if we abandon you tomorrow? We’ll return right after tea and help you put up the holiday decorations.”
Frances gave Lettie a quick hug. “I don’t mind at all. Most of the decoration are up, anyway. It’s only a matter of putting onthe finishing touches. I will not feel abandoned in the least, for you and I shall have the rest of the month to spend together.”
“Thank you, Aunt Frances.” She gave her a quick hug in return before casting her attention on Brynne. “I hear that their son, also called Maximillian like the viscount, is a tiny terror. He’s only four years old, but Lady Wrexham claims that he’s aged her twenty years. She calls him Max the Terrible, and vows that if he doesn’t reform his ways by the age of five, she’s going to have his name officially changed to Ivan.”
Brynne’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I’m not surprised. We’ve read enough accounts about the de Wolfe men and their fighting prowess to know they were fierce, brave warriors. Seems little Max will continue the proud family tradition.”
They fell silent as they approached Wolverton Grange. Lettie had spent the last twenty minutes looking out the window obviously praying for the sky to clear, and he had spent those same twenty minutes looking at Lettie beneath his hooded eyelids.
“Brynne, I think the clouds are thinning. They’ll be gone soon.”
That was Lettie, ever hopeful.
But the clouds actually thickened and a wet snow began to fall halfway into their journey, slowing their travel. However, they were close to town and managed to make it home with only a slight delay. Judging by the sudden wind and ferocity of the icy mix of rain and snow that now fell, Brynne knew they wouldn’t be going anywhere tomorrow.
When they reached Wolverton, he assisted Frances across the slippery few steps and returned for Lettie only after he’d gotten her aunt safely into the house. Even the few steps it took to get the ladies safely inside were treacherous, for the wintery mix stung their faces and blinded them with its howling force.
Brynne had just stepped inside with Lettie when she turned right back and poked her head out the door before the Wolverton butler could close it. “Brynne,” she shouted to be heard above the wind, “I’m sure it’s clearing up.”
He scooped her up by the waist and held her pinned against his side until the butler had securely fastened the door’s latch. “Stop looking for that omen, Lettie.”
“Never,” she vowed as he released her.
He shook his head and sighed. Lettie wanted so desperately for him to stay that she kept looking for miracles and was heartbroken when they didn’t happen.
But he’d never believed in miracles.
He wasn’t staying.
If anything, he planned to leave a day sooner.
He felt Lettie’s gaze on him, as though she sensed something was wrong. He returned her gaze with a steady, expressionless one of his own. He’d make tomorrow special for her. The storm wasn’t going to let up, so he and Lettie would be spending the day with Frances, helping her to decorate her home for the holidays.
