Mr. Eastwood's Match, page 3
Emily’s breath caught.
Lyness Eastwood.
It had been months since they had danced in London, yet the memory of his steady hands and charming smile returned at once.
Juniper, still addressing a lively lecture to Jack, hadn’t noticed him yet. But Jack’s head had turned in that direction with a steady focus. He looked at Emily, eyebrows raised.
She swallowed and pretended she had not seen anything unusual. No, of course not. She had not noticed the handsome younger brother of Baron Hartwell, nor had she immediately hoped to change course to speak to him.
Jack glanced from his wife to the man on the bench, gesturing with a movement of his chin. “Mr. Eastwood. We ought to greet him. I paid a visit to his brother when we arrived, but I have not yet seen Eastwood about town.”
And their family had not invited Jack’s to visit. Nor did Emily know his mother’s at-home day, and Juniper had not said anything about arranging to meet the matriarch of their family.
“Yes. Of course we should,” Emily said, arranging a sensible smile even as her feet—traitors to prudence—carried her a measured pace nearer.
Juniper turned to see the gentleman, her eyebrows raised with interest. Before her sister-in-law gave her nod of approval, Emily’s steps carried her forward. Toward him.
Caution caught up with her as she neared the bench. What if he did not remember her? Let alone with the fondness she had for his memory?
Lyness Eastwood rose the moment his eyes found hers, the great hound beside him lifting her head to watch Emily with mild curiosity.
“Lady Emily,” he said, inclining his head. His voice was quiet, but not hesitant, and the faintest smile touched his mouth. “It has been some time.”
She curtsied, aware of the heat in her cheeks. “Mr. Eastwood. Indeed. We have not seen each other since the ball in London. I hope you are well?”
“I-I-I—Yes. Quite well.” His gaze flickered toward the path behind her, taking in Juniper and Jack as they approached, before returning to Emily. “And you?”
The presence of his stutter did nothing to deter her from smiling wider in greeting. Then remembering herself, and her lessons, she forced the smile back to an appropriate size.
“I am well, thank you.” She hesitated. “I have been in York for some weeks, but I have yet to come across a member of your family.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I-I could say the same of you, though York is not large enough to k-keep from r-running into people for long.”
He took in a deep breath, his chest visibly expanding, and released it with deliberate slowness. A thing that made her think of all the moments in the past several months when she had to fortify herself to face yet another challenge. Did he have to steady himself to speak to her?
No. What a silly thing to suppose. The more likely explanation was that all women made him nervous, or shy, or…whatever it was that made him hesitate to speak. Or even visit.
When he spoke again, it was with a steady, deliberate tone. “It is good to see you again, Lady Emily.”
The remark was harmless enough, but it made her pulse quicken. “I am glad to see you again,” she said, and the admission made her breathing steady and her shoulders relax. Especially when his response was the upward turn of his lips.
Jack and Juniper reached them at last, and Jack spoke first, his tone brisk. “Eastwood. What an unexpected pleasure, to see you here.”
“The p-pleasure is mine,” Lyness said, a faint hitch catching on the second word, and gone so quickly Emily barely noticed it. “Is this your first visit to the Walk this season?”
Juniper, hand still slipped through Jack’s arm, answered with her usual good humored tone. “We have been remiss. I told Jack we must take advantage of the fine weather today, and now it seems we have been rewarded with a happy meeting.”
“I-I should have called on you before now,” Lyness said, his gaze settling on Emily. She held it, perhaps longer than was polite, but he hardly seemed to mind. “Are you—” He stopped, a breath catching for a moment, then continued smoothly, “—enjoying York?”
“I am,” she said, hoping the steadiness of her tone disguised the flurry in her chest. “Though I have not yet seen all it has to offer.”
The dog had risen when he did and sat again on her haunches throughout the greetings. Emily glanced at the large, elegant animal. “Who is this soulful looking creature?”
“Oh.” He blinked and looked down, as though he had somehow forgotten the massive dog keeping him company. “Athena. She i-is my brother’s dog. A-a German board h-hound.” He put his gloved hand down to scratch behind the creature’s pointed ears.
“She is lovely,” Emily said with a grin at the dog. “I miss our dogs on the farm, though they could not have been half so large as Athena.”
“They were shepherds,” Jack said, and winced immediately. The Sterling family had the tendency to call Jack their shepherd dog. He looked after them, metaphorically nipping at their heels, protecting them from harm and their own mistakes. Which was why they had sent Emily to stay with Jack and Juniper. They trusted him to see to Emily’s well-being in a less stressful situation than what she had faced in London.
Juniper was, Emily realized, being suspiciously quiet at the moment. She cast a curious glance sideways, at her sister-in-law.
The newly wed woman, who was younger than Emily yet had a lifetime more in terms of experience in the world of nobility, was looking at Mr. Eastwood with raised eyebrows and something approaching curiosity.
When she spoke, it was with her usual cheerful politeness. “I understand your brother’s dogs are often together, rather like bookends on either side of him or yourself, Mr. Eastwood. Is your brother here today? Or the other dog? I imagine the pair of them are a sight to see when they’re together.”
“Not today, L-Lady Juniper.” He picked up the leash he hadn’t been holding before. “I am passing the t-time while my mother walks with a friend.”
Emily would have expressed an immediate desire to meet his mother, but she looked at Juniper who slightly shook her head. Would it be rude to request an introduction in that moment? As daughters of earls, both Juniper and Emily outranked a baroness and could, therefore, solicit an introduction without being perceived as rude. At least, that was Emily’s understanding of the peerage and precedence, but… Goodness. There were far too many rules.
“Please give your mother my good wishes, Mr. Eastwood,” Juniper said, tone polite. “I have heard so much about her knowledge of gardening. I hope I will make her acquaintance soon.”
Before Lyness could reply, a cheerful female voice called his name from farther down the path. Emily turned to see a handsome, dark-haired lady approaching with a parasol in one hand and an expression of unmistakable satisfaction on her lightly lined face.
Lady Hartwell, she realized. Mother of Lord Hartwell and Lyness Eastwood.
Lyness glanced toward his mother, then back at Emily, the smallest crease forming between his brows. “Perhaps my mother would agree to an introduction presently.”
“That would be delightful.” Juniper added kindly, “Only if she is presently able, though. I am certain Lady Hartwell has many demands on her time. We will wait here. Either way, it was delightful to see you again, Mr. Eastwood.”
Jack gave a sharp nod of agreement.
Emily curtsied again. “It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Eastwood.”
“St-Sterling. My lady. It is always good to meet f-friends.” He bowed. “And you, Lady Emily.”
As they stood there, watching him go to his mother, Juniper leaned close enough for Emily to hear her murmur, “There now. At least one gentleman in York knows how to look at you properly.”
“He is Jack’s friend. Of course he would be attentive.” Emily kept her gaze fixed ahead, but her cheeks betrayed her, growing warm. As much as she wanted to believe Juniper, believe that Mr. Eastwood had given her pointed interest, she would be lying to herself. He had been kind. He had remembered her. That was all.
“Now you have done it. Here he comes, with Lady Hartwell.” Jack’s lips turned upward. “A woman considered a pillar of York society by some.”
That made Emily’s shoulders tighten. She cut a quick glance at her brother, alarm stirring in her mind.
“Hush, Jack. You will make your sister nervous,” Juniper said softly, her full attention turned to the approaching pair.
Mr. Eastwood and Lady Hartwell reached them with a swish of her embroidered skirts. She wore a gown that had to have been from a modiste in Paris or Austria, so beautiful and precise was the clothing. Emily had only seen such things depicted in fashion plates. It took effort not to look at her hat sporting a plume of beautiful peach colored feathers with awe.
“Here we are, Lyness,” the baroness said, as though she had been hunting the three of them through the entire city. “Meeting friends of yours is always a pleasure.”
“Mother,” Mr. Eastwood said evenly, though Emily noted his hand tightened a little on Athena’s lead. “Allow me to present Lady Juniper Sterling, sister of the Earl of Haverford, and her husband, Mr. John Sterling, younger son of the Earl of Benwaith. And Lady Emily Sterling, Mr. Sterling’s sister.”
Lady Hartwell’s eyes brightened as she inclined her head graciously. “How very delightful. York is most improved by the presence of such distinguished company.” She glanced at each in turn, her gaze lingering politely last on Emily. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Emily.”
Emily reminded herself to temper her smile as she replied, “The pleasure is mine, Lady Hartwell.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet us, Lady Hartwell,” Juniper said. “I know you have a great deal to take up your time. I have long hoped I might have a conversation with you about gardening. I did not wish to presume upon my limited acquaintance with your son, however, and descend upon you without meeting first.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Hartwell said with a little flutter of her hand. “I am forever pleased to welcome new friends to York.”
“Mother—” Mr. Eastwood began, but she turned to him with mock severity.
“Do not tell me you have been keeping acquaintances from me, Lyness. It is most unneighborly.”
“I met the St-Sterlings in London,” he said, the faintest stammer catching on their surname. “Last Season. They have not been in York long.”
“Merely a few weeks,” Jack said, tone as polite and even as ever it was, “and I have kept both ladies busy with decorating our cottage. I am as much to blame for keeping you from new friendships as your son is, your ladyship.” Truly, Emily’s brother was a master at wearing a mask of neutrality.
“Then we shall have to make up for lost time,” Lady Hartwell declared. “I will not have friends of my son wandering York without proper introductions. At present, I have an appointment I must honor. But I will send an invitation to dine with my family very soon.” She cast a knowing glance between them before taking Lyness’s arm again. “Now, if you are finished sitting on park benches, Lyness, you may escort me home.”
Mr. Eastwood inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Of course, Mother.”
After they took their leave, and as they turned away, Emily thought she saw the corner of Lady Hartwell’s mouth curve—a small, oddly satisfied smile, as if she had just seen something that pleased her.
Lyness fell into step beside his mother, Athena’s lead in hand. The dog’s easy gait kept time with his own, a steadiness he appreciated in the face of his mother’s brisk satisfaction. She twirled her parasol over her shoulder, the rapid spinning likely matching whatever pace the thoughts in her head had taken up.
“You might have told me,” she said lightly.
“Told you what, Mother?”
“All about meeting someone as lovely as Lady Emily Sterling.” Lady Hartwell’s voice took on a sing-song tone, her delight as complete as though she had discovered Lady Emily herself. “She is the very picture of unspoilt beauty, and yet there is a maturity there not usually found in debutantes. I have heard her name mentioned only once before, from my friend Mrs. Gainsworth. How old is she? More than twenty, I think. But not too much more?”
“I believe she is five-and-twenty,” he responded, tone deliberately flat. Trying not to give away that he was completely aware of her age. Perfectly aware, in fact, of every detail he had managed to learn about her in the little time he had such an opportunity. Too aware.
“An excellent age. But unmarried?”
“As you say.” The words came tighter than he intended, as though he’d drawn them through too narrow a space. He cleared his throat softly. “Her family was tucked away in the countryside until recently. They only came to the title through a most unexpected inheritance.”
“Oh, that is rather marvelous. That means she has few bad habits, in terms of genteel behavior. Five-and-twenty is excellent, too. You know, girls really do marry too young. Their poor husbands must finish raising them when they are wed at eighteen. What eighteen year old do you know who is wise enough to make life-altering decisions, hm? You certainly were not ready for such things before twenty.”
“Why does Lady Emily’s age concern you s-so much?” He gave his mother a sideways look, his tone sharpening despite himself. Even Athena seemed to catch his tension, glancing up as though curious at his tone. He cleared his throat quickly and lowered his voice. “What does it matter?”
“How well do you know her?” Lady Hartwell asked rather than answer him. Of course. She seemed half in her own thoughts on the matter, barely paying attention to what he had to say.
They were nearly to the end of the path, where their carriage waited to take them home again. They were not precisely in a hurry, but his mother made it clear she had no intention to linger. Meeting with one friend had obviously fatigued her, and still she had a wish to interview a new gardener that afternoon.
“Not well. We danced together in London. Roman danced with her, too. I have met her brother many times. They are all acquainted with the Duke of Montfort.”
“Roman danced with her?” His mother’s eyebrows and her tone rose, but no one was near enough to hear. Thankfully. “How interesting. He does not usually bestir himself so.”
“It was only a polite gesture, Mother. As a favor to the family.”
She made a noncommittal sound that, in his experience, meant she had drawn her own conclusions and would not be dissuaded from them. “She is a very pretty young woman. Elegant without being overdone. I approve.”
Lyness averted his gaze forward, watching the boats along the Ouse catch the fitful wind in their sails. A boy leaned in one of the skiffs leaned far over the side, his laughter carrying faintly across the water. “I doubt she requires your approval.”
“Nonsense. Everyone requires my approval.” She tilted her head to glance at him, her eyes bright beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Do you know if she will visit with her family in York long?”
“I did not have time to ask.”
“Mm. Then we must find out. York can be so very dull without new faces at the tea table.”
He felt the smallest tug in his chest at her words—a flicker of hope, quickly smothered. “If you wish to invite her, I will deliver the note myself.” Only because his mother had expressed an interest to know her, of course. He and Roman both worried over the lack of variation in her activities. It was all gardens and gossip. That she showed interest in someone new was the reason for Lyness’s enthusiasm, and nothing more.
“I said I would extend an invitation, did I not? But you need hardly play messenger, Lyness.” Lady Harwell’s smile was mild, but Lyness knew her too well. Plans were already forming behind that expression. Plans with direction, purpose, and none declared aloud. But to what end? “You must be there, of course. And Roman. Because she knows you both.”
At the sound of his brother’s name a second time, the flicker of hope extinguished. If his mother’s plans were more for Roman than himself, he had best not concern himself with them.
He cleared his throat, stroking Athena’s head when she nosed at his hand. “Did you enjoy your walk with Mrs. Gainsworth? You were looking forward to it for some time, I believe.”
Lady Hartwell laughed softly, twirling her parasol so the light flickered through the eyelets along its edge. “Oh, very much, yes. I am always pleased to spend time with an old school friend. She returned from Scarborough with the most outrageous opinions about sea-bathing. She tried to talk me into coming with her next time, if you can imagine such a thing. Me! In the freezing sea water! I thank you, no.” She shook her head, eyes shining with good humor for the first time in weeks. “I do wonder what sort of constitution she imagines herself to have, plunging into cold water every morning. But she is excellent company. We passed a full hour together and scarcely touched on the same topic twice.”
Lyness allowed himself a faint smile at that, relieved to have turned her thought. “Then I am glad of it,” he said with sincerity. His mother’s eccentricities had become more pronounced of late, likely due to her seclusion. “You have missed her.”
“Mm. I have,” Lady Hartwell admitted, though her gaze slide back toward him with a spark. “It is so important to have good friends, is it not? I am truly looking forward to making more.” The tone she used told him, though her words did not, that she had no intention of forgetting Lady Emily Sterling at all.
How could he blame her? He had not forgotten her either. Indeed, he had found himself wishing to see her again since their first—and only—meeting in London. Lady Emily’s voice had lingered in his memory, precise and lovely, returning to haunt him at inconvenient hours of the night. He had wished—foolishly, yet persistently—to see her again.
But life had a way of keeping him from the things he wanted, and it was likely for the best. The younger brother to a baron had little to recommend him, aside from obligations enough to weigh down brighter dreams. Acting as his brother’s steward kept him up to his elbows in ledgers, most days.
