too sentimental?’
Once drawn into the discussion, Charlie was soon agreeing that the loss of a favourite pet was a dashed miserable business. Marina could not quite work out how it happened, but suddenly she was talking to Lord Mortenhoe again and Charlie was bearing Mrs Hinton away to see his aunt, who just happened to have a litter of pug puppies to dispose of.
It was too bad of Charlie, removing the most personable of their guests from Lord Mortenhoe’s vicinity! She now had to find him someone else congenial to talk to; she had been counting on her friend’s vivacious conversation and sophisticated charm to distract him from the Thredgolds’ oddities. What might he have in common with the Philpotts?
‘Have you ever taken the waters at Harrogate, my lord?’ She steered him gently in the direction of their neighbours. ‘Mr and Mrs Philpott have just returned from there.’
‘No, I never have. Did you find it a pleasant experience, Mrs Philpott?’ There, now, that was better. Mrs Philpott was a conversable, well-bred woman with an easy style. She and Lord Mortenhoe were soon engaged in a discussion of the waters and whether the accommodations in the spa town might suit an aged aunt of his lordship who suffered greatly from gout and who was bored with Bath and Cheltenham. Mr Philpott joined in with a recommendation for a local livery company and Marina was just thinking she could safely slip away and have a second look at the place settings when her mother appeared, her sister at her side.
‘Araminta dear, Mr and Mrs Philpott are just explaining the benefits of the Harrogate waters to his lordship. I am sure you would find them most energising. What do you think, Mrs Philpott?’
Once again Marina found herself on the outside of the group with Lord Mortenhoe at her side. ‘I am sorry,’ she murmured as they moved away slightly. ‘My aunt’s deafness makes her a little unaware of the fact other people are engaged in conversation. I do hope you had heard enough to be able to advise your relative.’
‘Quite enough, I thank you.’ He regarded her with mock-seriousness as she glanced across the room to her uncle. ‘Would you think me very rude if I did not engage your uncle in conversation on the subject of cattle breeding? I must confess to being terrified of the beasts and he is sure to despise me.’
That surprised a gurgle of amusement from her. The earl was proving to have a quiet sense of humour, which threatened to overturn her poise. ‘My lord! I really cannot believe such a thing, although I have to confess that my uncle is somewhat single-minded in his enthusiasm.’
‘And what are your enthusiasms, Miss Winslow?’ He stopped, leaning one hand negligently on a sideboard, and effectively foiling her efforts to guide him across the room. This was mystifying. Much as she might enjoy his undivided attention, surely 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