Chapter 7

Felix was not at breakfast the following morning when the four sisters went downstairs, but Baron Oglesby, who had arrived late the previous evening, was. Eleanor obtained an introduction from their hostess and made a point of sitting at the same end of the table as the baron. Although Felix seemed quite taken with Pippa, their situation was dire enough that they could not afford to put all their eggs in one basket.

Mindful of Pippa’s remark that all four sisters needed to make a good-faith effort to charm Lord Oglesby, Eleanor tried to be warm and affable, and she attempted to nudge Clarissa and Kate into doing the same. But she was honestly unsurprised that the baron seemed the most partial to Pippa.

The planned entertainment for that morning was a walk to the new folly Lord Milthorpe had recently constructed. After changing into their worn half-boots, Eleanor and her sisters headed for the front lawn.

The autumn morning dawned crisp with a sky free of clouds. Eleanor was enjoying the cool breeze on her face when Pippa cried, “Felix is here!” and went scurrying across the damp grass.

Felix was indeed there, and he was not alone—he was throwing a stick for the two largest dogs Eleanor had ever seen. They were mastiffs with dun fur and squished black faces that gave them a perpetually sorrowful expression, although their wagging tails and bouncing gait suggested that they were having the time of their lives chasing the stick.

Felix brightened at Pippa’s approach. “Miss Philippa!” he said for the benefit of the guests within hearing range. “Good morning.”

Pippa paused as one of the dogs came loping up. “Are they friendly?”

“They are,” Felix reassured her. “I know they look a bit terrifying. But they’re tremendously good-natured and actually quite affectionate.”

Pippa stuck out a hand, and the male came over to sniff it. “Who is this gorgeous fellow?” she asked, scratching him behind the ears.

“This is Benny, and the female is Bea. Or, as my brother Jasper would tell you, Benedick and Beatrice.”

Eleanor started. “You named your dogs after characters from Shakespeare?” Eleanor adored Shakespeare. She had read his complete plays and knew many passages by heart. Much Ado About Nothing, in which Beatrice and Benedick featured, was a particular favorite.

“I didn’t. My brother, Jasper, did. They’re his dogs, I just like to borrow them sometimes.”

“I can see why,” Pippa said. Both mastiffs had taken to her immediately, and Beatrice was licking her face, which Pippa did not seem to mind a whit. “They’re adorable! Would they let me throw the stick for them?”

“They would like nothing better,” Felix reassured her, handing her the stick.

Eleanor settled back a discreet distance with Clarissa and Kate. The only ones who seemed to enjoy Pippa’s company more than Felix were Beatrice and Benedick, who were frolicking like puppies in spite of being larger than the pony who pulled their former neighbor Mrs. Ramsay around Boroughbridge in a little cart.

A sharp whistle pierced the crisp morning air. Both dogs looked up, then went bounding off toward the house.

Eleanor turned and saw the Duke of Norwood descending the steps. He had donned a coat of olive-green tweed in a nod to their country setting, pairing it with a waistcoat of burnt umber wool that picked up the subtle check of the fabric. The rustic garments made him look even more hardy and vigorous, and when the two giant dogs fell into step by his side, Eleanor felt a great lump rise in her throat.

Oh, this was awful! The man detested her. The glower he had leveled at her in the dining room last night had left her without a single doubt on that front.

It would not do at all to find him attractive.

Speaking of glowers, he was directing another one at the Weatherby sisters. “Felix!” he snapped. “Come!”

Felix gave an easy grin. “He seems to have mistaken me for one of the mastiffs.”

Pippa giggled, and even Clarissa cracked a smile. Kate, who was staring off toward the woods, did not seem to have heard, although Eleanor was pleased to see that she had brought along her sketchpad. Other than making a series of paintings of Pepper, Ollie, and Crumpet so Pippa would have something to remember her beloved cats by, Eleanor had not seen her sister draw or paint since the news of their father’s betrayal had broken.

“Felix! I need to speak with you.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Coming, brother.”

Lady Milthorpe clapped her hands. “I believe everyone has assembled. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will show you the way to the folly.”

Eleanor fell into step with her sisters as they followed Lady Milthorpe toward the woods. As they approached the edge of the trees, Eleanor admired a gorgeous old maple whose leaves were turning from yellow to orange. When their party startled a herd of fallow deer that went loping off across the meadow, Kate straightened and watched their retreat with a flicker of interest. It might not seem like much, but it was the most animated Eleanor had seen her sister in weeks, and it made her heart give a hopeful squeeze.

She could see the St. James brothers a little way ahead with the mastiffs trotting at their heels. By all appearances, they were arguing in hushed whispers.

Just then, the duke turned his head and his eyes locked with Eleanor’s. His lip curled and his eyes narrowed.

She responded with a smug smile.

His scowl deepened, and he turned back to his brother, who looked distinctly annoyed.

After a pleasant ten-minute walk, they caught sight of the folly. It had been designed to look like the remnants of a ruined abbey and was situated at the far end of a little clearing just as it melded into the woods. Everyone oohed and aahed over the picturesque sight.

Their hosts had spread some woolen blankets out upon the grass. Kate marched up to one on the far side of the clearing, took a seat with her back to the folly, and flipped open her sketchpad.

“Kate, dear,” Eleanor began, taking a seat behind her, “the folly is that way.”

Kate nodded silently toward a spruce tree on the edge of the clearing. It took Eleanor a moment to spot the red kite perched upon a branch. She glanced at Kate’s pad and saw that she had already sketched the raptor’s outline and was just starting to capture its keen gaze.

Pippa and Clarissa settled beside them on the blanket. Most of the guests had wandered over to explore the folly—all, in fact, save Felix and the duke, who were arguing on the edge of the clearing.

It seemed that Felix had had enough. “Oh, leave me be, will you?” he snapped at his brother. He proceeded to stride across the clearing, stopping at the edge of their blanket. “Miss Philippa,” he said, holding out a hand, “could I interest you in having a look around the folly with me?”

Pippa looked hopefully at Eleanor, who nodded. “It’s fine, dear. There are plenty of other people about.”

Smiling brightly, Pippa accepted Felix’s hand and stood. Eleanor watched as they strolled toward the faux abbey, heads tilted toward one another.

A shadow fell over their blanket. Eleanor glanced up to see the Duke of Norwood looming above her, his face creased into a dark scowl. “Miss Weatherby,” he said through a clenched jaw, “might I have the pleasure of your company?”

He said the word pleasure in such a tone to suggest that it would, in fact, be pleasure’s opposite. Frankly, Eleanor was surprised he had approached her at all, as they had not been properly introduced.

She lifted her chin. Never mind that. They had taken each other’s measure, and she wasn’t the least bit surprised he had gone to the trouble to find out her name. She wasn’t going to crumple before Jasper St. James, and the sooner he learned as much, the better.

She pushed up from the blanket and attempted to infuse her voice with as much malice as his. “The pleasure will all be mine, Your Grace.”

He did not offer his arm so much as seize her wrist in an iron grip. Eleanor tossed her head back and tried to look carefree as he all but dragged her across the meadow. She marveled at his size, which she was experiencing up close for the first time. She wasn’t a small woman, either in height or frame, but she felt positively petite standing next to Jasper St. James.

Once they reached the edge of the trees, he rounded on her. “Just what are you playing at?”

“Playing at? I have no idea what you mean. A moment ago, I was enjoying the fine view.” She flicked her gaze down to his boots and back up to his face, curling her nostrils as if the present view suffered by comparison. Which, of course, was a lie, but she would gladly take on the sin for the sake of annoying him.

It did annoy him, if the way his brow lowered was any indication. “I saw you last night,” he hissed. “I saw you switch my brother’s place card.”

She tossed her head. “Yes, well, he was seated next to Lady Duncombe, who all but bathes in Eau de Occitanie. Perhaps I was trying to help preserve his appetite.”

“And perhaps,” he snapped, “you were trying to promote a match between him and your sister!”

She lifted her chin. “And why would that pose a problem? Are you suggesting, sir, that there is anything wrong with my sister?”

“You know very well that there is! My brother is the son of a duke, and your sister is one of those Weatherby W—”

He cut himself off, seeming to realize the extreme rudeness of what he had almost said.

Eleanor was not prepared to let him off so easily.

She took one step closer, then another. “Go ahead,” she said, eyes locked upon his. “Say it.”