Page 14 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

“Mr. Freeman!” she exclaimed as he approached, showing every appearance of delight, “How marvellous to see you again.”

Evidently they had met before. Adam threw Lysander a faintly panicked glance, and Lysander smoothly rescued him.

“You remember Lady Arabella Cavendish?” he said.

“Of course,” Adam replied, smiling at the young woman. “How could I forget so lovely a lady?”

She beamed at him, pleased by his gallantry.

“And this is my brother, Lord Perry Cavendish,” she said, indicating the young god. “He and Lysander have been friends since they were in leading strings.”

Cavendish offered a large hand, which Adam shook. The man’s grip was firm but not overbearing and his smile was pleasant, so there was really no reason for the instant stab of dislike Adam experienced. Other than that Cavendish was Lysander’s oldest friend, apparently, and that Lysander was now smiling at him, rather than at Adam.

“So,” Cavendish said. “You’re the man who stole our Zander away?”

“I don’t know about stealing him,” Adam said. “But yes, I asked him to help me by managing my new estate. As much as I love Edgeley Park, I’m not from the country and barely know one end of a sheep from the other.”

“Well, you picked a good ’un.” Cavendish clapped Lysander on the shoulder. “He looks like a swell cove, don’t he? But truth is, he likes getting his lily-white hands dirty. What he don’t know about farming ain’t worth knowing.”

Cavendish spoke with that particular brand of cant affected by a certain type of young aristocrat. It was a manner of speaking that irritated Adam intensely, and it irritated him further that he saw no sign of similar dislike on Lysander’s face. Indeed, Lysander was smiling at Cavendish warmly.

“Hardly, Perry!” he protested, half-laughing. “I’m still learning myself—goodness, I’veheapsto learn.”

When Cavendish opened his mouth, presumably to argue, Lysander forestalled him by turning to Lady Arabella. “So what’s the news in town, Bella?”

Lady Arabella perked up. “Well,” she said in the tone of someone who has something of great import to convey. “Did you hear about Freddy Montague?”

She launched into a story that Adam gathered was terribly scandalous, though the events she described struck him as rather commonplace. Something about a young lady’s glove going missing, at the end of which the unfortunate Montague found himself thoroughly engaged to be married. Lysander seemed to find it entertaining at least, laughing in that open, generous way of his, his blue eyes warm and amused. He had such a sunny nature; such an easy disposition. It made a man feel good just be around Lysander Winterbourne. It made a man want to be more like him.

As Adam watched Lysander laugh, he became gradually aware that he too he was being observed...by Cavendish. When Adam turned to look at him, Cavendish averted his gaze, but Adam was left wondering what the man had seen on Adam’s face. How much had Adam given away of his thoughts? He needed to be more careful than this, if he and Lysander were to get through the rest of this visit without incident. He could not expose Lysander to speculation.

The footmen had already begun clearing away the tea things when one last person entered the drawing room. She entered very quietly, quite unnoticed by most of the guests, only Adam happened to be glancing her way when she arrived. She was a young and very lovely woman with simply dressed fair hair and very blue eyes. Her expression was grave and somewhat wary, but when her gaze lit upon Lysander, she was suddenly transformed by a wide, delighted smile, and she hurried across the room towards them.

“Lysander!” she cried, reaching out to him with both hands.

“Good lord, Gwen,” Lysander took her hands in his and smiled down at her. “You look wonderful!”

It was easy to see they were brother and sister. The same golden hair, the same blue eyes. The same cast to their features, though Lysander’s face was masculine while Gwen’s was finer-featured, her chin pointed where his was square.

All in all, they were quite the Sebastian and Viola.

“You do too!” Gwen said, her expression fond.

Lysander gestured at Cavendish. “You remember Perry? And Arabella—”

“Bella, yes, of course.” Gwen turned to them, smiling. “It’s lovely to see you both again. It’s been years.”

A brief flurry of conversation followed, small recollections of the past, until Gwen glanced at Adam, who was standing on the margins of the group, feeling somewhat awkward now.

“And this is Mr. Adam Freeman,” Lysander said. He paused, then added, “Simon’s brother.”

Did Adam imagine the slightly wistful note in Lysander’s voice as he introduced him in that way, as Simon’s brother?

Gwen’s smile for Adam was polite and friendly. She offered her hand and he performed the same bow over it that he’d performed at least a dozen times already this afternoon.

“I gather Lysander’s been acting as your steward, Mr. Freeman,” she said when he straightened.

“Indeed,” Adam replied. “He was kind enough to take a position at my estate when I confessed I hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about running it.”