She was right, of course.
She’d always been right.
Milton elbowed his arm. “This day just keeps gettin’ more interesting. Isn’t that your little visitor? The one Longham asked about?”
James turned from his place next to the mantel and looked in the direction Milton indicated.
Miss Hale.
She was the last person he had expected to see, being led around by Mrs. Kent, no less.
What was she doing here?
A general hush fell over the chatty room as other guests took notice of her arrival. It was not often a new face joined them, especially a lovely young woman.
James tried not to stare, but how could he not? Her chestnut hair was curled and coiled at the base of her neck. She was in an exquisite gown of a striking shade of palest pink—a fetching, decidedly feminine hue in a sea of sedate blacks and browns. The gown’s empire waist accentuated the delicate curves of her body, and the candlelight reflected from the smoothness of her skin. She possessed a freshness, an overwhelming sense of radiance that seemed to awaken the very room.
Mrs. Kent had a possessive hold on the young woman’s arm, and judging by the animation in the older woman’s expression and the volume of her laughter, she was enjoying the role very much.
“What’s her name again?” Milton lowered his voice.
“Cassandra Hale.”
“Ah, that’s right. I wonder if Longham was able to speak with her, as he had wanted to.”
James took a drink of his beverage to mask his discomfort at discussing the topic. Yes, he knew Longham had spoken with her. And he also knew that Robert Clark was her father, but it was not fodder for gossip. And it went deeper than that. He’d seen the tears. This experience was painful for her, and he wanted to protect her from the local meddlers as best he could. “I’m not sure.”
Oblivious to the battle within James, Milton continued. “Well, at least one of the rumors about her ’tis true.”
“What rumors?”
“Well, she’s a beauty.” Milton pivoted. “Heard she was. I only saw her but the one time at Briarton, but I’d been so befuddled over Riddy’s attack I hadn’t really noticed.”
James’s gaze landed on the faint flush to her cheeks. The soft curl of the escaping locks of hair framing her face.
Alluring. Entrancing.
It was not a betrayal to Elizabeth’s memory to notice.
Was it?
Not wishing to discuss that topic with Milton, James forged ahead. “And what other rumors did you hear?”
Milton smirked, as if enjoying his role as gossipmonger, and took a drink. “That old man Clark might have left her a significant inheritance—one that will no doubt shake Peter Clark to the core.”
James winced. Longham had mentioned that she might have been left something in his will, but he’d assumed it was relatively insignificant. “Where did you hear this?”
“Various sources. Reliable sources. Apparently when the will was read after Clark’s death, it named two individuals as heirs to parts of Clark Mill. ’Course that was a couple of years ago, so the details are murky, but I’d be willin’ to bet a week’s wages that Peter Clark’s acutely aware.”
James cleared his throat. “I’d be careful to put too much faith in a rumor. Change always brings about gossip—you know that.”
“It certainly does.” Milton watched Miss Hale as Mrs. Kent introduced her to a small cluster of people just inside the door. “Why do you think Mrs. Kent is being so nice to her?”
Annoyance arced through him, and he glanced toward the woman. Mrs. Kent’s snobbery was legendary. “Poor Miss Hale. Someone should tell her to run away from here and never look back.”
“I wonder if Mrs. Kent knows somethin’ ’bout the will,” speculated Milton. “She’s not the sort to be kind for kindness’ sake.”
All the bits of information James knew began to coalesce. Mr. Longham was Robert Clark’s solicitor, and as such would be executor of the will. He’d known that Miss Hale was Clark’s daughter, and Robert Clark had tried to contact her just before his death. What was more, Longham had mentioned the will when they were at the Green Ox Inn. Based on that, it did seem likely that the rumors were true.
Milton drew a deep breath. “Regardless, a bonny face is never a bad thing, is it? Might give it a go myself. But there looks to be competition.”
James turned to see Mr. North approach Mrs. Kent and Miss Hale. Miss Hale seemed to regard the vicar with friendly familiarity.
“Hard to compete with a vicar, but still,” Milton mused. “I daresay someone will give him a challenge. Not every day we get a pretty girl from outside the area.”
James smirked. “Who, you?”
“Why, I think I’ve as good a shot as anyone here. Although my pockets might not be as thickly lined as some, I do have charms that are worth more than gold.”
* * *
James tried to focus on this conversation with Milton, but he was much more interested in the conversations Miss Hale was having.
A fresh curiosity had taken hold about what she was saying and with whom she was speaking.
It had not been intentional, but he and Miss Hale shared secrets. It had been so long since he’d shared a secret with someone. They both knew details about the other’s life that were intimate. And damning. And yet he trusted that she would keep what she knew about his family private. And he would return the favor.
Mrs. Kent escorted her around the room, parading her about and introducing her to the other guests. Miss Hale’s affable expression gave the impression that she was enjoying herself. And why shouldn’t she? She deserved a bit of brightness after how upset she had been the last time he saw her. But at one point, Miss Hale excused herself and exited through the door to the corridor connecting the parlor to the house’s entrance hall. A less observant person might not have noticed, but her gown’s skirt did not swish out of sight. Instead, she disappeared just enough to give the impression that she was standing against the wall, alone.
Why was she standing in the corridor?
This was preposterous. It wouldn’t do to be spying on the young woman. They were already introduced. There was nothing improper in speaking with her, and if he desired to do so, this might be his only opportunity, especially if Mrs. Kent reclaimed her.
He excused himself from Milton and a handful of other men who had gathered and made his way toward her. He found her, as expected, standing alone, her back against the wall. “Miss Hale. Is everything all right?”
She turned and snapped to attention. She ran a nervous hand down the front of her gown to smooth it, and a pretty blush flushed her cheeks. “Forgive me. I just needed a moment.”
He stepped farther into the hall’s shadow. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, no.” The tension in her narrow shoulders eased. “I saw you earlier and was hoping we would have a chance to converse. It is so nice to see someone I am already acquainted with. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be welcome here.”
He leaned forward to take her into confidence. “To be honest, Miss Hale, I feel exactly the same way.”
“You? Not welcome? But surely you’re acquainted with everyone present.”