Witfeld?"
She shook herself. "Yes, of course. I'd like to sketch your hands later, though. Perhaps out in the garden?"
"Certainly." Caroline Witfeld was a single-minded chit, and more composed than he would have expected, if she was still thinking about the portrait after two damned kisses.
"You can't monopolize him, Caro," one of the twin girls protested, grabbing his arm and towing him toward the door. In the flurry of activity he couldn't even tell which of the sisters had hold of his other arm. "We want to show him Trowbridge."
"And the garden and the pond," another said.
"The wildflowers on the hillsides are lovely this time of year."
"We could take one of the riding trails, Lord Zachary. You could ride Sagramore."
"I'd be pleased to go," he commented. "But of course I am at my aunt's disposal."
"Oh, you must come visit with us!"
Well, at least here he seemed to be more than an extraneous sibling. Zachary nodded. "I'll do my best."
Halfway through breakfast Mrs. Witfeld appeared, arm in arm with Aunt Tremaine. "Girls, what do you think?" their mother said, her voice quavering with excitement. "I've been talking with Gladys, and she's agreed to stay for at least the next fortnight."
"Hurray!"
"And so, even with the monthly soiree at the assembly rooms already set for Thursday, I thought this would be a wonderful occasion to hold a ball of our own!" Her pale green eyes swept around and caught Zachary.
He'd seen that look before. Aunt Tremaine might not have matchmaking in mind, but someone did. Amid the general cheers and cacophony that followed Mrs. Witfeld's pronouncement, he did some surveying of his own. All the girls were making plans for buying new gowns and deciding on a theme for the party—all but one.
Caroline finished her buttered toast, her gaze on her plate and her focus on something private and personal. He wondered whether she'd even heard the announcement of the ball. Her father had said that two of his daughters had common sense; she was obviously one of them.
"Caro, are you going into Trowbridge with us?"
She blinked, looking up. "Hm? No. I have some work to do."
"You always have work to do." The one with the lightest-colored hair, Susan, he thought, leaned over to touch his arm. "You're coming with us, aren't you, Lord Zachary? We promised we'd show you the town."
He knew where he'd rather stay, but Griffins weren't rude. "I'd be delighted—if Aunt Tremaine has no objection."
"Heavens, no. Sally and I have planning to do."
"I can't wait to see the look on Mary Gorman's face," another Witfeld chit whispered. "She'll die when she sees who's staying with us."
"Are you certain you won't come, Caro?"
Zachary glanced at her again. She wasn't daydreaming now. In fact, she was looking straight at him—and unless he was greatly mistaken, she didn't look very happy. Apparently he'd done something to provoke her again. Good. "I'm afraid I can't leave my ears behind," he said, to the laughter of the others. "But they'll return."
Her jaw twitched, "Don't mind me. I'm certain I can make do without your ears for the morning."
One of the other girls stood and moved behind Caroline, placing her hands on her sister's shoulders. "Do come with us. If anyone's going to help me choose colors and material for a new gown, I want it to be you." She leaned over and kissed Caroline's cheek. "Please?"
Ah, the other one who had some common sense. Zachary couldn't remember her name, but he felt unexpectedly grateful to her. Honey-colored curls framed her oval face as she glanced at him from beneath long eyelashes. Very nice, but uncharacteristically for him, it was still the Witfeld chit with the quick mouth and the unladylike snort who kept his attention. "Allow me to add in my request for your company, as well, Miss Witfeld," he drawled. "The more the merrier."
Caroline sighed. "Oh, very well. If you'll still allow me to sketch you in the garden this afternoon."
"Caroline," her mother admonished. "You
She shook herself. "Yes, of course. I'd like to sketch your hands later, though. Perhaps out in the garden?"
"Certainly." Caroline Witfeld was a single-minded chit, and more composed than he would have expected, if she was still thinking about the portrait after two damned kisses.
"You can't monopolize him, Caro," one of the twin girls protested, grabbing his arm and towing him toward the door. In the flurry of activity he couldn't even tell which of the sisters had hold of his other arm. "We want to show him Trowbridge."
"And the garden and the pond," another said.
"The wildflowers on the hillsides are lovely this time of year."
"We could take one of the riding trails, Lord Zachary. You could ride Sagramore."
"I'd be pleased to go," he commented. "But of course I am at my aunt's disposal."
"Oh, you must come visit with us!"
Well, at least here he seemed to be more than an extraneous sibling. Zachary nodded. "I'll do my best."
Halfway through breakfast Mrs. Witfeld appeared, arm in arm with Aunt Tremaine. "Girls, what do you think?" their mother said, her voice quavering with excitement. "I've been talking with Gladys, and she's agreed to stay for at least the next fortnight."
"Hurray!"
"And so, even with the monthly soiree at the assembly rooms already set for Thursday, I thought this would be a wonderful occasion to hold a ball of our own!" Her pale green eyes swept around and caught Zachary.
He'd seen that look before. Aunt Tremaine might not have matchmaking in mind, but someone did. Amid the general cheers and cacophony that followed Mrs. Witfeld's pronouncement, he did some surveying of his own. All the girls were making plans for buying new gowns and deciding on a theme for the party—all but one.
Caroline finished her buttered toast, her gaze on her plate and her focus on something private and personal. He wondered whether she'd even heard the announcement of the ball. Her father had said that two of his daughters had common sense; she was obviously one of them.
"Caro, are you going into Trowbridge with us?"
She blinked, looking up. "Hm? No. I have some work to do."
"You always have work to do." The one with the lightest-colored hair, Susan, he thought, leaned over to touch his arm. "You're coming with us, aren't you, Lord Zachary? We promised we'd show you the town."
He knew where he'd rather stay, but Griffins weren't rude. "I'd be delighted—if Aunt Tremaine has no objection."
"Heavens, no. Sally and I have planning to do."
"I can't wait to see the look on Mary Gorman's face," another Witfeld chit whispered. "She'll die when she sees who's staying with us."
"Are you certain you won't come, Caro?"
Zachary glanced at her again. She wasn't daydreaming now. In fact, she was looking straight at him—and unless he was greatly mistaken, she didn't look very happy. Apparently he'd done something to provoke her again. Good. "I'm afraid I can't leave my ears behind," he said, to the laughter of the others. "But they'll return."
Her jaw twitched, "Don't mind me. I'm certain I can make do without your ears for the morning."
One of the other girls stood and moved behind Caroline, placing her hands on her sister's shoulders. "Do come with us. If anyone's going to help me choose colors and material for a new gown, I want it to be you." She leaned over and kissed Caroline's cheek. "Please?"
Ah, the other one who had some common sense. Zachary couldn't remember her name, but he felt unexpectedly grateful to her. Honey-colored curls framed her oval face as she glanced at him from beneath long eyelashes. Very nice, but uncharacteristically for him, it was still the Witfeld chit with the quick mouth and the unladylike snort who kept his attention. "Allow me to add in my request for your company, as well, Miss Witfeld," he drawled. "The more the merrier."
Caroline sighed. "Oh, very well. If you'll still allow me to sketch you in the garden this afternoon."
"Caroline," her mother admonished. "You
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