Chapter 12

The morning sunshine crept through the window of the drawing-room, pale at first, then brighter and certain, as the day progressed to noon. Sebastian, reading through the paper, trying to distract himself from his father's illness, looked up at the bright sunshine and felt his heart leap.

It was almost midday.

The last two days, he and Eleanor had taken to having all their meals in the drawing-room together. It was much easier since they were within a few paces of Papa's bedchamber. They had discussed it on the first afternoon that Papa had been taken sick, and they had both decided it made sense to eat there rather than in the dining-room, which was downstairs and in the west wing of the house.

He smiled, traces of the story she'd told still weaving through his mind as he found it did often. The lonely young man, locked in the castle all by himself—somehow, he had identified with that character. All his life, he'd felt lonely. It had been just himself and Papa, locked up, as it were, in the vastness of Ramsgate Manor. The story had appealed to him, making his thoughts tread new paths.

"My lord?" a voice called outside the door, making him jump.

"Yes?" The butler was there with a trolley piled with plates and bowls. Sebastian's stomach twisted with hunger.

"It's midday, my lord. Shall I bring the luncheon in now?"

"Please do," Sebastian said at once. "I will locate her ladyship."

"Very good, my lord."

Sebastian smiled to himself as he walked out of the drawing room. It occurred to him, as he walked past a footman in the hallway, that Eleanor had learned the names of most of the household staff already. He felt a shiver of discomfort—he had some people on the staff for whom he'd barely memorized a surname. He had absolutely no idea of the first names of most of them, except for the butler and his valet. And Mrs. Teller, whose name was Betty.

He wandered up the hallway and paused in the upper west wing, where the guest suites were. He still did not know which of the rooms she was using. He let out a sigh. He really needed to find a way of speaking to her.

His mind drifted to the story she had told the previous day, and a grin lifted his lips. As he looked out of the window, he caught sight of her. She was walking in the garden, her dress—a white muslin gown—contrasting strongly with the green lawn. Her hair was simply styled, and his heart twisted, a strange ache forming in his chest as he watched her.

She is so beautiful.

He breathed out volubly. He longed to get to know her better, but even after how closely they had spoken in Father's bedchamber, he had yet to manage a proper conversation with her. They had discussed Papa's illness at some length during the last two days, but nothing much beyond it.

I need to follow Matthew's advice.

He smiled to himself as he heard footsteps in the entrance-way, and, as he rounded the bend in the stairs, he saw her just coming up towards him. Her long hair was tumbling partly loose from its bun, its soft, brown waves framing her face. She looked startled.

"Sebastian!" she breathed.

He beamed, heat flooding through his body. It was hard to look away from her. He didn't want her to feel awkward—he was sure he was staring—so he dragged his eyes away.

"Eleanor," he greeted her warmly. "I was just sent to inform you that luncheon just arrived."

"Oh!" Eleanor blushed, a delightful, flustered expression crossing her face. "I did not know it was midday already. Have I been outdoors so long?"

"You have," he said simply, and smiled. "You seem to enjoy strolling outside?"

"I do." she gave an enraptured sigh. "It's so delightful out there—so warm, still, mid-morning. It seems like summertime out there."

The way her eyes lit up when she talked, her lovely sigh when she discussed the warmer weather—it was all so beautiful. "We are having an unusually warm autumn," Sebastian agreed. He swallowed hard, looking away and hoping she didn't notice how tight his voice was, filled with longing.

"Most assuredly!" she declared. She walked up the stairs briskly and he followed at a slower pace.

They reached the drawing room. The butler had already arranged the dishes on the table and a delicious smell filled the air. He went to draw Eleanor's seat out for her, and she sat down, her cheeks flushing as he gazed at her.

"You must have always enjoyed being outdoors?" he asked her, drawing out his own chair opposite her. The table in the drawing-room was much smaller than the long, formal one in the dining room, and that was another reason why it was so much more pleasant to dine there. In the dining room, the length of the table made any conversation impossible.

"I have," she answered his inquiry. He lifted the lid off a bowl in the center of the table, letting out a delicious smell. The bowl was full of mushroom soup, steaming hot, and he ladled some out for her.

"Thank you," she said with a blush.

He ladled some out into his own dish and sampled it, shutting his eyes for a moment. The creamy richness of the soup was delicious.

"So," he commented after swallowing, "you have always had an interest in gardening?"

"Mm." She nodded, swallowing before continuing. "I used to enjoy the gardens at Woodford. Mama and I did a great deal with them."

"You used to garden at Woodford?" Sebastian blinked at her in surprise. It was not the fact that a lady would dirty her hands that bothered him—he'd already seen Eleanor with very dirty hands, and he found it charming. It was the fact that she seemed so interested. He would not have expected that. The women of his acquaintance either had little interest in anything outside fashion and gossip or had very strange interests altogether. Gardening seemed altogether too practical and straightforward.

"I did," she agreed, flushing. "Just planning the flowerbeds and planting the flowers—the gardener weeded the beds and raked leaves. And cut the lawn."

"I see," Sebastian said, smiling. "You must know a great deal about plants."

"I know a little," Eleanor answered, looking up shyly from under her lids. "I wish I knew more. I could read all day on the topic and not tire of learning of it."

"I see," Sebastian repeated. An idea was starting to form in his mind.

"Mama and I rather enjoyed it. We would plan all the flowerbeds and make a list of what we needed, and then take the list to the gardener. Papa would always complain about the price, but he always bought everything happily and then enjoyed being in the garden more than anyone else." She giggled.

"That sounds nice." Sebastian smiled to himself. "You have any siblings? Besides your brother, I mean." He recalled meeting a young man at her home. He hadn't made any real impression— Sebastian could barely recall what he looked like, never mind if he'd seemed a nice sort or not.

"No. It's just me and my brother. And Mama and Papa."

"That must have been pleasant," he said slowly. "Having a large family, I mean. It was just Papa and me."

"That must have been sad," Eleanor murmured. He chuckled.

"No, not really. I mean, perhaps for Papa. But I had never known my mother and so it was not sad for me. Papa and I were very close. That is why...why..." he stammered. His throat was tight with feelings. He tried to suppress the fear he felt, but sometimes it overwhelmed him.

"I know," Eleanor replied softly, reaching for his hands. He squeezed her fingers tightly. "I know you are close. And I am sure he will be with us for a long while in the future."

"I hope that is true," Sebastian admitted. He swallowed again. They had discussed his father's condition continuously for the last two days. The doctor had said that his father had suffered an apoplexy—the term seemed to refer to anything that caused a sudden loss of consciousness. What exactly had happened to Papa, they still did not know, but he was recovering slowly. He could sit up and his breathing was easier, though he was exhausted.

"I will sit with him after lunch," Eleanor offered.

"No, let me," he replied at once. He realized his hand was still in hers and felt warmth creep into his cheeks. "I would be glad to. You sat with him all evening yesterday."

"I was happy to talk with him," Eleanor replied softly.

"You are kind," Sebastian breathed. He had been amazed by her in the last few days—she had no reason to be kind to him, and yet she had supported him thoughtlessly. She also had no reason to be so thoughtful to Papa, and yet she sat with him for hours, holding his hand, helping him to drink water if he needed it, fetching him books and the paper when he wished to read.

"It is nothing," she said gently. "I am happy to spend time with him. I rather like your father. He's funny."

"He is," Sebastian agreed warmly. He felt his heart twist. His father had always been able to make him laugh. They had argued often in the last few years—Papa had not approved of his lifestyle, but Sebastian had known no other way to be, because anything else had only dragged him down with its wearying boredom. He blinked in surprise. Since coming to know Eleanor, he had not been bored for an instant. He felt his lips lift in a smile.

"I can take him some soup," she suggested. Sebastian nodded.

"Mayhap. But first you must eat. We have not yet partaken of this delicious roast." He lifted the lid on the second dish that the butler had brought up for them. She breathed in and he saw her smile.

"I would be pleased to try some of that."

"Me, too."

They ate the main course of roast beef with baked potatoes, and after eating only a little of her dessert, Eleanor pushed back her chair.

"I will go and check on Lord Ramsgate," she said swiftly, standing up.

"You have some cherry syrup on your chin," Sebastian replied. A thin streak of bright red syrup had spilled on her chin from her dessert. He smiled as she tried to wipe it off.

"Let me help," he said, standing and taking a napkin. He dabbed at it gently, his heart thumping fast.

"Thank you" she whispered.

He swallowed hard. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Her lovely face was tipped up towards him, her soft hair still partly loose. She was so close, and he longed to kiss her. He tensed, not wanting to scare her. She still barely knew him, and he would not impose on her. Not until she knew him well enough to feel comfortable around him.

"I will retire to my study to work," he said softly, trying not to bend down and press his lips to hers.

"I will sit with Lord Ramsgate," she said softly. "Perhaps he will be able to eat some of the mushroom soup."

"Perhaps. Thank you," Sebastian replied, trying to breathe. His every nerve tingled. He watched as she turned, ladling some soup gracefully into one of the bowls the butler had placed on the trolley. Then she turned back to him.

"I will see. Perhaps," she murmured.

"We will doubtless see each other in a few hours," Sebastian replied swiftly. "I will visit Papa in a few hours. Please do not over-exhaust yourself."

"I shan't."

He smiled at her and reached for her hand. She let him take it and his heart raced as he felt her soft, tender palms; like silk in his fingertips.

"See you soon," he murmured.

"Yes."

He breathed in deeply and watched as she walked slowly from the room, the bowl of soup in one hand. He stared after her, his mind racing. He wanted to give her a gift. He had the perfect idea.

He hurried to his study, ringing for the butler to see what he might be able to find.