Page 33 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“Perhaps,” Eudora replied doubtfully, still unable to forgive her sisters for leading her to believe Lord Delaney was in love with her. The sting of humiliation was still too raw to allow that just yet.
“You will,” the young merchant’s voice was firm in its conviction, “There is no better luck in this world than to have a sister, Miss Mifford. Even with three, I think you too sensible a young lady to be so careless as to lose the affections of even one.”
Eudora preened a little at being called sensible, a characteristic which was not often used to describe her. She then pursed her lips a little as a thought struck her.
“Have you sisters, Mr Lowell?” she asked, curiously, suddenly realising that she knew nothing of the man before her.
At her question, Mr Lowell bowed his head low, causing a dark lock of hair to cover his eyes.
“I had one,” he said, after a pause, lifting his grey gaze to meet hers, “As I said, Miss Mifford, it is a terrible thing to lose a sister.”
Eudora rushed to apologise, but Mr Lowell brushed them aside with a charming smile and a rueful shake of his head.
“Please don’t fret,” he assured her with a wan smile, “It was many years ago - I am afraid that being cooped up inside this house for so long has made me sentimental. I am not a man given to idleness…”
His athletic frame could attest to that, Eudora noted, but she was wise enough to keep this thought to herself. That was not the kind of compliment one offered to a man, especially when alone in a room with him, completely unchaperoned.
Just as Eudora wondered how she might politely extricate herself from this delicate situation before they were discovered and caused a scandal, the gong for luncheon sounded out from the far-off entrance hall.
“I must go freshen up,” Eudora said, somewhat feebly. She wanted to say something profound in light of Mr Lowell’s sad revelation, but she was quite unpracticed at spontaneous profundity. Instead, she offered the industrialist sincere thanks for his help, turned tail and fled.
Outside in the corridor, Eudora almost bumped bodily into Mable, the buxom maid, who was making a great show of polishing the wood coving surrounding the window.
“Mr Allen sent me,” Mable offered sullenly, despite Eudora not having asked.
“It is my sister who is your mistress, not I,” Eudora answered evenly before nodding goodbye and continuing to the dining room.
It did not take a great leap of the imagination to conclude that Mable was loitering near the handsome industrialist’s hiding place in the hope of engaging him in a flirtation. Eudora could not blame the girl—Mr Lowell was handsome and kind, a rare combination in a man. He was also a big improvement on Lord Albermay, the previous object of the maid’s attention.
Eudora went to the dining room, idly mulling if she should inform her sister of Mable’s activities. As she went to take her seat, Eudora realised that she still held Mr Lowell’s handkerchief in her hand.
I’ll return it later, she thought to herself before becoming distracted as Lord Delaney entered the room, followed shortly by Mr Lowell.
Still embarrassed, Eudora averted her gaze from the former only to have her eye caught by the latter, who offered her a warm, encouraging smile.
This smile was noted by Lord Delaney, who glanced between the two with an odd expression on his face.
Yesterday, Eudora might have attributed his slight frown to jealousy, but her old battered heart refused to allow her such fancies.
Nothing more than indigestion, she decided, most firmly.
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER LUNCH, ROBhad hoped to catch a moment alone with Eudora. However, before he could speak with her, his host nabbed him.
“Do you have a moment to spare for your interview, Delaney?” Lord Crabb asked, his question accompanied by an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I must interview everyone, for the sake of appearances.”
If Robert hadn’t been so dithered by jealous feelings toward Mr Lowell, he might have noted the irony of hearing the words he had spoken to Mr Cartwright echoed back at him.
“I have moments galore, old chap,” he replied absently as his eyes followed Mr Lowell’s exit from the dining room. The industrialist had smiled so warmly at Eudora during luncheon that Robert had been unable to finish his game pie - one of his favourite dishes. Having never been in love before, Robert had never dealt with romantic jealousy. He was surprised by how discombobulated he felt.
An urge to strangle Mr Lowell battled internally against a stronger urge to throw Eudora over his shoulder and whisk her away to be married. These two competing desires were accompanied by a sizeable pang of regret for the game pie he had left on his plate.
Rob was so overwhelmed by emotion that once they had reached the library, he downed the brandy offered by Lord Crabb in one gulp.
“Care for another?” the viscount asked, unable to hide his amusement.
“A small one this time,” Rob answered before attempting to explain his thirst, “Bit of an upset stomach, you see.”
