the last thing he wanted was the company of the old maid of the family?
‘Mine? Why, I hardly know how to answer you, my lord—’ She broke off, perplexed at the question. ‘I have many interests, of course; Mama allows me to run the household and I oversee Giles’s education. Then there is Lizzie to accompany about town, and my sewing. And my friends, of course, although they are all married now and have young families.’
‘But no enthusiasms?’ he persisted.
‘Ladies do not on the whole have enthusiasms, my lord! Oh, perhaps for good causes, although to really throw oneself into that I always feel one needs to be older and better endowed with wealth than I am. Or perhaps I am just using that as an excuse.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Gentlemen may have enthusiasms—for politics or sport, for example.’
Lord Mortenhoe’s eyes were on her face and something in them, some gentleness, made her feel suddenly sorry for herself, which was ridiculous. For someone who had singularly failed to oblige her family by attracting even one eligible offer in the course of three expensive Seasons she was most fortunate in her lot.
‘What are your enthusiasms, Hugh?’ she asked her cousin, aware that he had once more strayed into their orbit, and grateful for the distraction. Another moment and she was going to succumb to the sympathy in those hazel eyes and start explaining just how fortunate she was.
The youth shrugged with his habitual lack of grace. ‘Haven’t any.’
‘Not sport?’ his lordship enquired. ‘Horses, perhaps?’
A trace of animation crossed the sullen features. ‘No point, but, if I could, racehorses—’
‘Surely not gambling, Hugh?’ As soon as she had spoken Marina could have bitten her tongue, for the shuttered expression descended again.
‘Or bloodlines and breeding?’ Lord Mortenhoe suggested.
‘Oh, yes, breeding. To be able to produce such beauty and strength is above everything. I read all the stud books, follow form—but Papa will not hear of it. Says I know nothing about it and I would do better to study his work with cattle. Cattle!’
‘If he has built up a flourishing line, I can understand he might be disappointed if you do not intend to maintain it,’ Mortenhoe said thoughtfully. ‘But horse breeding could run alongside cattle breeding, do you not think?’
Stunned by being asked his opinion, Hugh merely gaped. ‘Er...yes.’
‘Would you like to visit my stud at Newmarket? I will ask your father after dinner. If you would be interested, that is.’
‘Oh, yes! Thank you, my lord. Your stud! I’ll speak to him now, try to persuade him.’
‘That was kind of you. I do not think I have ever heard Hugh utter so many words at one time before.’ Marina watched her cousin talking animatedly to his surprised parent.
‘He is lonely, I think. Possibly he has no one to share his interest. And here he is rather out of his depth. You are the only young person present and you have to talk to the visitors, not to family.’
‘Now you are being ridiculous, my lord,’ Marina chided. ‘Hugh is seventeen, I am...considerably older.’
‘Of course, I should have realised you were on the shady side of thirty.’
‘Certainly not—!’ She broke off, choking back a laugh at her own instinctive indignation. ‘You are teasing me, my lord.’
‘Only a little—after all, you have just done your best to convince me you live the life of a sober spinster.’
‘I do not!’ Natural honesty caught up with her tongue and she added, ‘Well, perhaps, but that, after all, is what I am.’
‘And do sober spinsters go driving with gentlemen?’
Was that an invitation? Surely not. ‘I see no reason why not, my lord, should they be asked.’
‘Good. We will discuss the where and when of that later. If I am not mistaken your uncle is coming over.’
He does intend to invite me to drive with him! But why? Flustered, Marina managed to smile at her uncle, who had Hugh in tow.
‘My son tells me you have invited him to visit your stud, my lord.’ Mr Thredgold was, as usual, abrupt.
‘Yes, sir, unless you should dislike it. He seems to have inherited your interest in animal breeding, doubtless as a result of observing your renowned expertise at close hand.’
A faintly smug expression came over Mr Thredgold’s face at the compliment. ‘Horses, though—how is that going to contribute to the Thredgold herd?’
‘Diversification, sir.’ Marina watched with something approaching awe as Lord Mortenhoe played on the older man’s obsession. ‘Think, in twenty years’ time they will speak of the Thredgold herd and stud with equal admiration—and of you as its founding genius.’
Now that was both kind and clever, Marina decided, seeing how struck her uncle was by this thought. She turned her own approving gaze on his lordship, wondering why he should trouble with an unknown youth. She found he was watching her and experienced a sudden fancy that perhaps he had done it to please her. But why should he? It must be because he was bored by this party and seeking diversion.
‘Dinner is served, my lady.’ As Bunting held the door Lady Winslow appeared at Lord Mortenhoe’s side. Charlie was already offering his arm to Mrs Hinton and the other guests sorted themselves out, leaving Marina to bring up the rear with Cousin Hugh.
She had arranged the place cards earlier, positioning herself between Mr Philpott and Hugh, but as she neared the table she realised that the two remaining places were between Lord Mortenhoe and Mrs Philpott.
‘Bunting, the place cards have become muddled,’ she hissed.
‘No, Miss Marina, Lord Winslow moved them earlier,’ the butler assured her.
It was too late to make a change now. Putting a good face on it, she took her place, trusting that Mrs Philpott would not feel slighted by being next to young Hugh. At least their neighbour was happily occupied in conversation with Charlie at the head of the table. She began to talk to Hugh about his plans for the summer, leaving Lord Mortenhoe to her mother. It would no doubt be a relief to him: the poor man must be thoroughly tired of her company by now.
Far from experiencing any ennui, Justin was pleased with how the evening was going. Lady Winslow and her son had managed to throw him together with Marina with considerable aplomb and she appeared quite ignorant of any ulterior motive to his presence. Her clear, unselfconscious gaze was a pleasure to meet, even while he experienced an uneasy pang of conscience about deceiving her. How he was going to propose marriage without breaking his agreement with Winslow and yet at the same time salve his own conscience was a puzzle.
Lady Winslow was pleasant, vague and, he suspected, a lady of little energy. Certainly she appeared to rely heavily on her elder daughter and he soon realised that it was to Marina that Bunting looked for direction during the service of dinner. Another count in her favour if she was as competent a housekeeper as she appeared. Knightshaye would be a far bigger household than this,
