“Dastardly. I prefer dastardly. And I’m fresh out of henchmen. Unless one counts Ainsley. Which one really can’t do, you know. He absolutely refuses to hench.” He would have liked to lean in for a kiss—how could he not, when she was looking all sunny and full of life and smiling at him like that, after first treating his sisters to a morning of sightseeing and storytelling? She’d made their day, no question.
She chuckled. “No, one certainly can’t. And perhaps, my lord, if you behave yourself . . . perhaps I’ll show you sometime soon.”
“I’m free tomorrow.”
She lifted her brows and then glanced toward his sisters. “Are you certain about that?”
Well, now that she mentioned it . . .
The pug let out a short bark, his curly tail wagging furiously. He’d stationed himself at the door, his leash dragging along the flagstone.
Abbie breathed a laugh. “Do pardon Lancelot, madame. He must have caught Lord Telford’s scent—Bram always steals his attention the moment he enters our home.”
Mamm-wynn chuckled. “Our Libby’s kitten seems to prefer him over everyone but her as well.”
“And he’s been harassing me endlessly about needing a dog,” Oliver added.
Which of course had Millicent laughing too. “Give him a few more weeks and he’ll likely find a stray to bring home to you, Mr. Tremayne.”
“Or rather, a stray will find him. They always do.” Abbie sent Sheridan a wink. “We used to tease that that’s how he and Theo became friends, you know. Theo just followed him about like every other lost puppy, and Bram took him in like one more mutt.”
Sheridan folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yes. My very favorite joke. I’m all laughter.”
Everyone else was, though. And he didn’t really put up any more of an argument. Because, truth be told, he had just started following Telford around when they were lads at school, because . . . well, because he seemed a good chap and hadn’t immediately joined the herd of other lads who had seemed to take an immediate disliking to Sheridan. It had made him a prime candidate for a friend.
And his instincts had been right, hadn’t they? So what if they were the same instincts that stray animals had for Telford? He’d simply claim he had the senses of a bloodhound. A wolf. A—
Ruff! Ruff!
A curly-tailed pug. Sheridan chuckled to himself and looked behind him. “Did Enyon say when he’d bring the trunk, perchance?” Not that he meant to toss up its lid and present the trinket box to Beth the moment he arrived—it deserved a bit more pomp and circumstance than that—but he’d feel better when he knew it was here.
“He was unloading a few things for his mam first. He’ll probably be about half an hour. Oh!” Beth reached into her pocket, pulled out a seashell, and slid it across the table to Mamm-wynn with a smile.
Her grandmother took the offering with a smile of her own. “Well, if we’re giving gifts now . . .” She reached for the two bundles of knitting and handed one to each of his sisters. “The red for you, Lady Millicent. And Lady Abbie . . . I debated a good long while and decided the cream would suit you best.”
He’d seen his sisters in many situations over the years—trying ones, fun ones, unexpected ones, boring ones. He’d witnessed their composure, their resilience, their grit, and their grace. But never had he seen either of them—much less both at once—reach out with such looks of reverence on their faces.
“Mrs. Tremayne.” Abbie unfurled hers first, her tone as awed as her face. “It’s exquisite. You can’t mean for us to keep these?”
“Please, my dears, do call me Mamm-wynn. Everyone does. And I do.” She sat back, content as Libby’s kitten when he was curled up on Telford’s shoulder. “I don’t knit as much as I used to, but I’ve been saving up my work for its rightful recipients. I always know it when I’ve found them.”
Millicent had unrolled hers as well and was running her fingers over the pattern. “It’s lovelier than anything I’ve ever bought in Paris. You do us great honor, madame.”
Abbie turned to Sheridan so abruptly that he leaned back against his chair, half expecting a cuff to the ear—not that she’d given him one of those since he was nine and experimenting with some of the more colorful language he’d picked up from those lads at school. “Theodore, it must be said.”
He grimaced. She only ever pulled out his full name when he was in serious trouble. “What have I done?”
“I don’t exactly know, given how little you told us in your letter. But you led us to believe you’d fallen in love with a young lady on the islands, and if it is anyone but Beth, then you’re an absolute dunce.”
He didn’t know which part to take issue with first. “Now wait a moment—”
“She’s absolutely right.” Millie wrapped her new shawl around her shoulders. It matched the stripes in her dress. “She’s perfect for you, and her whole family is clearly just as delightful. We’ll not permit a single argument from you. Not on something as important as your future happiness.”
Was he still sleeping? He could think of no other explanation. He reached into his pocket, where his list rested, wrinkled and apparently superfluous. “But—”
“But nothing.” Abbie sliced a hand through the air. “I know we promised we wouldn’t interfere when it came time to choosing a wife, but clearly we must.”
“We must indeed!” Millicent scooted to the edge of her chair. “If left to your own devices, you would have let Telford bully you into marrying Lady Elizabeth.”
“And the two of you can hardly even tolerate each other.” Both of them were shaking their heads now, that look of superior maternalism in their eyes. “Didn’t we warn you?”
Now, that was just too much. “No, actually. You didn’t. You were too busy gushing about how perfect it would be.”
Abbie lifted her nose. “We do not gush, Theodore. Really.”
“And you misunderstood our enthusiasm. We were laboring under the apparent misconception that you’d been nurturing secret affections for your best friend’s sister. You have to know we want nothing above your happiness.” Millicent reached over Abbie, hand outstretched.
He’d been too well trained not to reach back. Though not so well that he could contain his huff. “Well, yes, but—”
“And, Theo, dearest.” Abbie’s hand landed on his outstretched arm too. “You will have that with Beth. She understands you. We could see it straightaway as she spoke of you.”
“And she has the love of adventure and exploration that your future bride will require.”
“She’s so very intelligent—and imaginative! She had us on the edge of our seats while she was telling us the island stories.” Abbie shot a smile past him, presumably at Beth.
His neck was absolutely on fire. Did it not once occur to them that if he hadn’t already declared feelings for Beth, they would be putting him in quite the spot? “I’m quite aware of how—”
“She’s strong and resilient—”
“And beautiful!”
“And I swear to you, Theo”—Abbie leaned close—“she sounded intrigued when she mentioned one of your theories of the Druids in relation to the cairnfields.”