Sir Rex? Is he well?”
Lizzie’s smile remained. “He is at Land’s End.”
Mary said, “Only Cliff has seen him lately, and that is because he stopped at Land’s End on his way back to the islands last fall. Rex claims he has been renovating his estate and cannot leave. I haven’t seen him since Cliff returned to London with Amanda as his bride.”
That was a year and a half ago. Blanche became somewhat concerned. “Surely, you believe Sir Rex? You don’t think something is wrong?”
Mary sighed. “I believe him, of course I do. You know he avoids society at all costs. But how will he find a wife if he closets himself in the south of Cornwall? There are hardly any eligible young ladies there!”
Her heart lurched oddly. That in itself was a stunning sensation, as she was never taken aback. “Does he now wish to marry?” He was two years her senior and should have taken a wife long ago; still, this was entirely unexpected.
Mary hesitated. “It is hard to say.”
Lizzie took her arm. “Put it this way, the de Warenne women are determined for him to have a family of his own. And that requires a wife.”
So the de Warenne women would plot to see him wed. Blanche had to smile. His days as a bachelor were undoubtedly numbered. They were right. He should marry—it was wrong for him to live alone as he did.
“And it requires his leaving Land’s End,” Mary said emphatically. “However, in May, Edward and I are sharing our twenty-third anniversary here in town. Rex will attend—the entire family will gather for a celebration.”
Blanche smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Congratulations, Mary.”
“I have so many grandchildren, I have lost count,” Mary said softly, her eyes shining. Then she took her hand. “Blanche, I have considered you a daughter ever since your betrothal to Tyrell. I am hoping, very much, that you will one day find the joy and happiness that I have.”
The countess was one of the kindest and most generous women Blanche knew. She was also adored by her husband, her children and grandchildren. She meant her every word, but Blanche was somewhat saddened. She would never find the joy and happiness Mary de Warenne had. Had she the ability to fall in love, she certainly would have done so by now. Gentlemen were always sniffing about Harrington Hall. She could only wonder what it must be like, to be so loved, to love so much, and to be surrounded by such a family.
“I will no longer avoid matrimony,” she said slowly. “There is no point. I simply cannot manage these estates by myself.”
Mary and Lizzie exchanged pleased glances. “Do you have anyone in mind?” Lizzie asked with open excitement.
“No, I don’t.” Blanche realized that half the room had cleared—and it was much easier to breathe now. She fanned herself. “That was a long afternoon!”
“And it is only the beginning.” Lizzie laughed while Blanche felt a moment of dismay. “Well, I have seen a number of interesting prospects. If you wish to gossip, let me know.” Lizzie laughed again, now holding out her hand for Tyrell. He instantly left his group and came to her side, clasping her palm, their gazes meeting briefly in an intimate communication.
“We should go, as you seem very tired, dear,” Mary remarked. The women exchanged hugs and goodbyes.
Blanche then spent the next half hour smiling at the departing gentlemen, doing her best to seem gracious and truly interested in each and every one. The moment her last caller was gone, she went to the nearest chair and collapsed, her smile gone. Her cheeks actually hurt. “How can I do this?” she gasped.
Bess grinned, settling on the sofa. “I thought it went quite well.”
Felicia asked a servant to bring sherry for three. “That went very well,” the voluptuous brunette smiled. “My God, I had forgotten how many dashing men remain eligible!”
“That went well? I have a raging migraine!” Blanche exclaimed. “And by the by, the Earl and Countess Adare will be celebrating their twenty-third anniversary in May.”
Felicia looked surprised; Bess did not. “And Rex de Warenne will attend,” she said.
Blanche looked at her and their gazes held. What did her friend mean?
“Are you certain you want an elderly husband, Blanche?” Bess smiled.
Blanche was uncomfortable. “Yes, I am very certain. Why did you just mention Sir Rex?”
“Oh, hmm, let me see. I was standing behind you while you were discussing Sir Rex with his family,” Bess said pointedly.
Blanche failed to understand. “I am bewildered. I asked after the entire family, Bess. Are you implying I am somehow interested in Sir Rex?”
“I hardly said such a thing,” Bess gasped in mock denial. Then, “Come, Blanche. This isn’t the first time his name has come up.”
“He is a family friend. I have known him for years.” Blanche remained confused. She shrugged. “I have merely wondered why Sir Rex never called. It was a lapse. It was somewhat insulting. That is all.”
Bess sat up straighter. “Do you wish for him to court you?”
Blanche could only stare. Then she started to smile—and briefly, she laughed. “Of course not! I wish for a peaceful future. Sir Rex is a very dark man. Everyone knows he broods—and that he is a recluse. We would never suit. My life is here, in London, his is in Cornwall.”
Bess smiled sweetly. “Really. I have always found him disturbingly sexual.”
Blanche paled. She did not want to know what that meant! And only her friend could get away with such an inappropriate remark. She decided to ignore it. “If anything, I want my old life back,” she said sharply.
“Yes, of course you do. Your old life was just so perfect—doting on your father, and living vicariously through me and Felicia.”
Felicia pulled up an ottoman as they were finally served the sherry. “Bess, I tried to seduce him after Hal died. He is truly a boor. In fact, he was so lacking in charm, he was almost rude. He would be the worst possible candidate for Blanche’s hand.”
Blanche didn’t hesitate to defend him, for she hated malice of any kind. “You mistook an introversion of character, Felicia,” she said gently. “Sir Rex is a gentleman. He has always been the perfect gentleman around me—and perhaps, just perhaps, he did not wish to dally with you.”
Felicia flushed. “The de Warenne men are notorious for their affairs—until they marry. Perhaps he simply isn’t virile.”
“That is a terrible thing to say!” Blanche cried, aghast.
Bess cut in. “He has a reputation for preferring housemaids to noblewomen, Felicia. He also has a reputation for great stamina and skill, never mind his war injury.”
Blanche stared at her friend, aware of heat rising in her cheeks. “That is gossip.” Then, “I do not think it appropriate to discuss Sir Rex this way.”
“Why
