Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(17)

Thinking back to that conversation, Aline slid an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Well, dear,” she said lightly, “here is an opportunity for you to land an ambitious American with large pockets. Just what you were hoping for.”

Livia snorted. “I was joking about that, as you well know. Besides, how can you be certain that there are eligible gentlemen in the party?”

“Marcus told me a bit about the group last evening. Have you ever heard of the Shaws of New York? They’ve had money for three generations, which is forever in America. The head of the family is Mr. Gideon Shaw, who is unmarried—and apparently quite fine-looking.”

“Good for him,” Livia said. “However, I have no interest in husband hunting, no matter how attractive he may be.”

Aline tightened her arm protectively about Livia’s narrow shoulders. Since the death of her fiancé, Lord Amberley, Livia had vowed never to fall in love again. However, it was clear that Livia needed a family of her own. Her nature was too affectionate to be squandered on a life of spinsterhood. It was a measure of how deeply Livia had loved Amberley, that she still mourned him two years after his death. And yet surely Amberley, the most kindhearted of young men, would never have wanted Livia to spend the rest of her life alone.

“One never knows,” Aline said. “It’s possible that you will meet a man whom you will love as much as—if not more than—you did Lord Amberley.”

Livia’s shoulders stiffened. “Lord, I hope not. It hurts too much to love someone that way. You know that as well as I.”

“Yes,” Aline admitted, struggling to close away the memories that stirred behind an invisible door in her mind. Memories so incapacitating that she had to ignore them for the sake of her own sanity.

They stood together in silence, each understanding the other’s unspoken sorrows. How strange, Aline thought, that the younger sister she had always thought of as something of a nuisance would turn out to be her dearest friend and companion. Sighing, Aline turned toward one of the four towers that cornered the main body of the manor house. “Come,” she said briskly, “let’s go in through the servants’ entrance. I don’t wish to meet our guests while I’m dusty from our walk.”

“Neither do I.” Livia fell into step beside her. “Aline, don’t you ever tire of acting as hostess for Marcus’s guests?”

“No, I don’t mind it, actually. I like to entertain, and it’s always pleasant to hear the news from London.”

“Last week old Lord Torrington said that you have a way of making others feel more clever and interesting than they really are. He said that you are the most accomplished hostess he has ever known.”

“Did he? For those kind words, I will put extra brandy in his tea the next time he visits.” Smiling, Aline paused at the tower entrance and glanced over her shoulder at the entourage of guests and their servants, who milled in the courtyard as various trunks were carried this way and that. It seemed to be a boisterous group, this entourage of Mr. Gideon Shaw’s.

As Aline surveyed the courtyard, her gaze was drawn by a man who was taller than the rest, his height exceeding even that of the footmen. He was big and black-haired, with broad shoulders and a confident, masculine way of walking that was very nearly a strut. Like the other Americans, he was dressed in a suit that was well tailored but scrupulously conservative. He stopped to chat easily with another guest, his hard profile partially averted.

The sight of him made Aline feel uneasy, as if her usual self-possession had suddenly been stripped away. At this distance she could not see his features clearly, but she sensed his power. It was in his movements, the innate authority of his stance, the arrogant tilt of his head. No one could doubt that he was a man of consequence…perhaps he was Mr. Shaw?

Livia preceded her inside the house. “Are you coming, Aline?” she said over her shoulder.

“Yes, I…” Aline’s voice drifted into silence as she continued to stare at the distant figure, whose barely contained vitality made every other man in the vicinity seem pallid by comparison. Finishing his brief conversation, he strode toward the entrance of the manor. As he set foot on the first step, however, he stopped…as if someone had called out his name. His shoulders seemed to tauten beneath his black coat. Aline watched him, mesmerized by his sudden stillness. Slowly he turned and looked right at her. Her heart gave a hard, hurtful extra thump, and she retreated quickly into the tower before their gazes met.

“What is it?” Livia asked with a touch of concern. “You’re flushed all of a sudden.” She came forward and took Aline’s hand, tugging impatiently. “Come, we’ll bathe your face and wrists with cool water.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly all right,” Aline replied, but the pit of her stomach felt queer and fluttery. “It’s just that I saw a gentleman in the courtyard…”

“The black-haired one? Yes, I noticed him too. Why is it that Americans are always so tall? Perhaps it’s something in the climate—it makes them grow like weeds.”

“In that case, you and I should go for an extended stay,” Aline said with a smile, for both she and Livia were small of stature. Their brother, Marcus, was also no more than average in height, but his build was so muscular and bull-like that he posed a perilous physical threat to any man foolish enough to challenge him.