Page 5 of Revisit the Past (Society of Swans #3)
S ighs of interest rippled through the small group of old and new acquaintances that surrounded Caleb as a stream of words spilled forth from his mouth. The dinner guests nodded along, absorbing every unique detail of the many beautiful estates—preferably uninhabited or with absent owners—he had encountered during his years of exploration.
Yet again, Wrighthall had been correct. This was the price Caleb must pay for his years away from Society. Stories.
If he did not wish to admit his true reasons for disappearing and racing around the United Kingdom, that was. He doubted the ton would care to hear much about the mist of tears through which he’d viewed the marvels of Stonehenge in Wiltshire, mourning the absence of his dear brother, who had accompanied Caleb on a previous visit and unexpectedly fallen in love with the mysterious ruins.
“What a fascinating eye you possess, Lord Murfield!” cried one gray-haired gentleman, raising his teacup. “The way you describe your travels with such vibrancy makes me regret overlooking these magnificent, ancient places here in our very own country during my youthful travels around the Continent. I suppose I could not hope to manage such a tour, even a domestic one, at my time of life.”
Caleb chuckled and shook his head. “Not at all, Mr. Stanhope. With a sensible route, ample time afforded for travel and enjoyment of each location, and carefully made arrangements that are suitable to your particular needs, there is no reason you should not make an adventure for yourself yet, I promise you.”
“Particularly if you were to arrange it, my lord,” added a woman Caleb recalled meeting during a previous Season.
The now-Lady Ramsbury pressed a silken hand to one angular cheek, blue eyes sparking. “How knowledgeable you are of the most singular places, with all your peculiar little facts, and how to best arrive there!” she continued, her enthusiasm growing as an idea appeared to strike her.
“Have you considered applying your experience in aid of others who wish to become more acquainted with our United Kingdom? If I could but introduce you to my younger brother, I am sure he would be so much safer and have a much more enjoyable time with such a guide!”
“Goodness, you are far too generous in your estimation of my talents,” Caleb said with an appreciative smile and bow of his head. He swallowed, silently praying that the young viscountess’s suggestion had not been so serious that a refusal couched in humility would be ignored, and that no one else would champion the idea.
Of all the many small surprises Caleb had encountered since his return to Society proper—from long-lost friends suddenly married with children to old, favorite establishments transformed in the blink of an eye—he had not expected the ton to be so curious about his expeditions, about him.
He sensed, to his displeasure, that his long absence and intentional avoidance of company in favor of supposed deep self-reflection and intellectual expansion had created an air of mystery about him that attracted the ton ’s curiosity. At least with their focus transfixed by a stimulating subject, Caleb need not worry as much about their interest turning to more morose matters like Daniel.
“Mr. Abbott and Miss Abbott!”
The butler’s robust announcement drove every other thought and concern out of Caleb’s mind. He took a breath before turning toward the drawing room door, lest he look too quickly, too eagerly. Besides, he did not feel eager at present, exactly.
There stood Miss Abbott in a lovely, powder-blue gown threaded with silver, diamonds twinkling in her black hair. She held herself tall as her clever eyes swept about the drawing room. Against his wishes, a memory overlaid itself upon the present scene.
It was the first time Caleb had seen her truly enter a room, at a dinner much like this one, drawing all the light to her. They’d met only two days prior at a picnic in Hyde Park, where they had quickly discovered a mutual love for the philosophical poetry of William Wordsworth.
Caleb watched Miss Abbott and her father greet the evening’s hosts and a few others nearest the door from across the room. Only when she looked directly at him did Caleb realize that he had been staring far too intently.
Old habits were difficult to break, so they said. Difficult, though hopefully not impossible. The Season had only just begun a week ago and already, Caleb wondered how he would survive it. He turned back to the others to find that, during his distraction by the new arrival, they had dispersed to other corners of the drawing room.
“Enjoying your evening, Lord Murfield?”
As always, Miss Abbott’s lovely voice threatened to envelop Caleb in a happiness that no longer belonged to him. These feelings rushed back far too naturally. It had been foolish to think that he could return to life in London while avoiding her. He had barely managed it this long.
“And here I thought we were friends,” Miss Abbott continued, her tone flat except for the lilt at the very end. She was only teasing. Then why did her words leave Caleb’s skin stinging with shame?
He forced his feet to turn him around to face Miss Abbott’s beautiful visage.
“We are, Miss Abbott,” Caleb answered. “If that is still agreeable to you.”
“If it were not, I would not be standing here.”
She smiled. Caleb’s heart melted. This was a mistake, indeed.
As long as he remained in town, he would never be free of the memories they shared. Seeing her unexpectedly at this dinner necessitated a new plan. Caleb must quit London early and resume his tour of England’s hidden gems…or venture farther afield, perhaps to the Americas.
“For that, I am grateful,” said Caleb, painfully aware of how deeply he meant it and how badly he longed to escape all at once.
“Might we sit?” Miss Abbott inquired. She glanced over to a pair of chairs by the fireplace. “I am afraid I danced entirely too much at Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge’s ball last night. My poor feet nearly refused to carry me to the breakfast room this morning.”
Caleb readily agreed as they took their seats, trying not to think about the men with whom Miss Abbott had danced and if any of them possessed the correct attributes to finally entice her into another courtship.
“Now, where was I? Ah, yes. You still have not answered my first question. Are you enjoying your evening?”
For some reason, Caleb did not answer. Instead, he observed Miss Abbott observing him. Her gaze remained fixed on him, hard, almost distant. Despite her valiant attempt at fulfilling Caleb’s request for friendship, she could not quite hide her own struggle to find normalcy in their situation. Not from him.
Yet again, he had been pensive and silent too long. The lady’s pleasant smile grew tighter and she lowered her head. Perfect, inky curls swished against her prominent rouged cheekbones. Caleb’s heart thudded against his ribs as a wild, familiar urge nearly compelled him to reach across the small table between them and tuck a ringlet behind her ear, to feel the softness of her skin against his fingers just as he’d once done.
Somehow, it felt both like a lifetime ago and just yesterday.
“Forgive me. Perhaps we had better not—”
“Tell me, what have you been reading?”
Miss Abbott’s head lifted sharply. Her eyes were no longer distant. In fact, they enchanted Caleb entirely.
“You did remind me that we need not bother with the pleasantries. As friends.”
“It might be easier to tell you what I have not been reading,” she answered with a light chuckle. “Luckily for you, I always carry this with me.”
Her notebook. Caleb already knew before she produced the small volume from her silver-beaded reticule.
“My notebook. I write down any interesting passages I encounter, if they are short enough, or else leave a reference and page number so I might copy the full quote in my larger book at home. It makes for quite a handy tool to keep track of my reading.”
Miss Abbott proudly brandished one of her most prized possessions before him. He made note of the plain, indigo leather cover and furrowed his brow. The one he remembered had been forest green. It had contained the glimpses of Isabel—revealed in bits and pieces in those pages and in the pages of every work she recommended—with which Caleb had fallen in love.
Vitality and openness returned to her eyes—not fully, yet enough to provide him with a taste of that brilliance and insightfulness he adored and had missed so, so terribly. No one in this country, nor even the world, he reckoned, could dive headfirst into discourse like Miss Abbott.
“Recently, I have found myself drawn to the epistolary style and have just begun reading Evelina again. That, along with my other studies, keeps me busy during whatever down time remains to me after these long days of engagements.”
Caleb nodded, unable to suppress a fond smile as he listened to Miss Abbott’s enthusiastic reviews of her recent literary interests and their effectiveness in her pursuit to broaden her mind.
“I do recall your admiration for Fanny Burney’s keen eye and wit. There is something rather charming and intimate about epistolary novels, is there not? After all, we are always telling the stories of our lives in letters.”
Miss Abbott stilled. Her features softened as she stared at Caleb. A tingle of uncertainty rippled through his stomach, his hands curling into loose fists atop his knees. Perhaps they were not yet comfortable enough to reference their past so freely.
“Thank goodness we live in the age of letters, and may it reign long,” she answered quietly after a long moment. “Now, enough of my simple comings and goings. I would be most grateful to hear more of your exciting tales—if you are not fatigued from recounting them to your other friends, that is.”
Caleb pressed his lips together to keep from frowning. Odd. Miss Abbott, a skillful conversationalist and highly adept at expressing her many fascinating, complex ideas, did not often rely upon such rapid changes in conversation topic.
Time seemed to have done nothing to erase his ability to sense the subtle changes in the lady’s mood. From the corner of his eye, Caleb noted the sudden twisting of her hands in her lap, the twitching tendon at the base of her neck, the flicking of her gaze from his face to anywhere else in the drawing room.
The cause of these nerves, however, remained a mystery to him. One he was not likely to be successful in solving with this new foundation between them in such a tenuous state.
“Luckily for you,” Caleb replied as he leaned across the arm of his chair, borrowing Miss Abbott’s earlier phrase with a playfully arched brow, “I saved the most exciting tales for your benefit entirely.”
The tension in her genteel figure eased and she smiled in an expression that looked to be a mixture of relief and disbelief. Miss Abbott waved a dismissive hand through the air.
“Of course you did not! Why should you have? I saw them flocked around you when we arrived, and I have heard talk amongst the ton of your engrossing stories.”
Caleb could not help himself or the levity bubbling up in his chest. He laughed for the first time in what felt like months—years, perhaps. He certainly had not had occasion to laugh like this. Not since the last time he had shared a carefree day with his Isabel.
“What you and I deem engrossing and what most of Society as such finds the same do not often intersect, I am afraid,” he finally managed to huff out as his laughter subsided to a chuckle.
This unexpectedly light feeling remained as Miss Abbott’s smile widened to match Caleb’s. If any of the other dinner guests mingling nearby noticed their slightly unrefined expressions, clearly neither Caleb nor Miss Abbott cared.
As always, it felt as if they existed in a world all their own.
“And I am afraid I am inclined to agree with you,” she said, the trace of a laugh in her voice.
“Most of what they wish to hear primarily pertains to any luxuries I experienced,” Caleb confessed with a shrug of one shoulder.
For a flash of a second, Miss Abbott scrunched her face, the charming dimple in her chin deepening.
“Horrid.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course, you and I know that the real fascination is to be found in the history not only of the land, but of those who have tended it. I pray you have much to tell of both?”
Caleb could not tell if his companion was aware of how she leaned closer in her chair, looking up at him with round, earnest eyes, or how dizzy it made him to have her so near and so absorbed in their conversation. A mere week ago, Caleb had been certain that that very same lady would rather swim across the Channel than share a ballroom with him ever again.
“I must begin with the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire. What magnificent archeology! We are truly blessed that such testaments to our ancestors remain accessible to us these many millennia later all throughout England, but I assure you, you cannot begin to imagine the likes of Stonehenge.”
“Or what it must feel like to stand in the very same place as someone from ages past, living an entirely different life, and imagine what the world was like in their time,” she added, thoughtfully tilting her head to one side.
Caleb smiled. “Precisely.”
Now, as he took his turn and shared the true marvels of his many journeys, sparing no seemingly tedious detail that he knew his present audience would appreciate, Caleb could not help feeling as though nothing much had changed between them, after all.
How many times had they talked just like this, in various drawing rooms, ballrooms, and parks, stealing every opportunity to share recent discoveries and opinions and, all the while, tender bits and pieces of their innermost natures?
“Ah, it is time to move into the dining room!” called their hostess all too soon. Caleb had not yet finished describing the particularly diverse insect life fostered by the area’s grasslands.
“Miss Abbott?” he asked as he rose from his chair, extending his hand to the seated lady.
Without looking up, she held up one hand, while she ruffled inside her reticule with the other. For half a breath, Caleb feared that she’d found herself in need of smelling salts or a handkerchief after all his talk of creeping and crawling things, as most other ladies would have. Instead, her other hand produced a pencil. She leafed through the pages of her notebook and scribbled something in the next clear space, under what looked to be a quote copied from Evelina .
“There, so we shall remember where we left our conversation,” she announced with a pleased nod, tucking her items away once more. Bright-green eyes snapped up to meet Caleb’s common brown ones. “I must hear more about Salisbury Plain’s insect life—about all of it.”
When Miss Abbott accepted his hand, Caleb felt as though she had never let go.
A moment later, to his great disappointment, she was compelled to release him as their hostess, Lady Huntingford, paired them with guests more befitting each of their ranks for the entrance into the dining room. Caleb’s disappointment only increased when Miss Abbott’s escort led her all the way around the long, mahogany table. He settled into his own seat, situated diagonally from hers. At least it afforded him a pleasant view of her lovely countenance and superior grace, though there was nothing to be done about the floral centerpiece that occasionally obscured her.
“Lord Murfield, I am so pleased to be seated beside you. I have heard much talk of your time visiting the great sites of England and am eager to hear more directly from the source!” said the guest seated to Caleb’s left.
When he turned to face his dinner companion, he nearly jumped. The friendly lady, a recently pronounced spinster from the prominent Montbray family, leaned forward to catch his attention. She blinked her pale-blue eyes at him expectantly.
Caleb gave an appreciative nod. “I would be delighted to divulge anything you wish to know—at least of the places I have been. There is still much to see of this country and the world beyond.”
He could not help himself. Caleb’s gaze drifted across the table to Miss Abbott once more. Miss Montbray’s first question, something about the dullness of traveling primarily alone and staying in empty houses, drifted in one ear and out the other.
As long as he shared a room with Miss Abbott, she would never be far from his thoughts. And if she was the primary object of his thoughts, how could he hope to pay mind to anything or anyone else? He could have given his entire life to the study of her every breath.
“My lord?”
Caleb started and forced his attention back to the woman beside him.
“Many apologies, Miss Montbray. I must have been distracted by that strangely orange dish in the middle of the table,” he lied with a sheepish smile. “As to your inquiry, you may be surprised at the ways one can occupy oneself without companions and parties.”
The remainder of the meal passed relatively uneventfully. Miss Montbray and Mrs. Johnson, on Caleb’s right, proved quite effective at distracting him from staring across the room at Miss Abbott all evening and wondering what she discussed with the gentlemen seated beside her—with no small amount of effort on Caleb’s own part. He had forgotten how difficult it had been to focus during those early days of all-consuming infatuation. Every ounce of his energy went toward maintaining the necessary connection with both his dinner partners.
As much as Caleb longed to return to the solitude of travel, he did not wish to offend anyone along the way, especially since time seemed to have softened the ton ’s indignation at his very unceremonious departure from their world. Instead of being met with disgruntled politeness, he had been welcomed with open arms…by all but one.
When the time came for the ladies to return to the drawing room, Caleb took advantage of the commotion to observe her every movement. The way she walked with measured strides and had a smile and kind word to offer every guest who came near, the way her fair skin and dark hair reflected the light from the chandelier—it was all perfection. He had walked uncountable miles and still never encountered a more beautiful woman.
“I do hope you are not thinking of courting her, Lord Murfield.”
Caleb spun around on his heel to face Mr. Dunn, one of his newer acquaintances, heart thumping in his throat. “Who?”
The other man, the eldest son and heir to a great fortune, made lesser by its lack of accompanying title, lifted his glass of port toward the adjoining door as it closed behind the last lady.
“Miss Abbott, of course. You are acquainted with her, are you not? That is what I have heard, and in any case, you do seem on quite friendly terms, if I may say so,” answered Mr. Dunn as he smoothed his blond hair with a palm.
Tendrils of cold dread crept out from the center of Caleb’s chest and slowly seeped to the rest of his body. He swallowed, yet his heart refused to dislodge itself and return to its rightful place.
“I am acquainted with Miss Abbott, yes. We…knew each other before I began my travels.”
Mr. Dunn tilted his head back ever so slightly to eye Caleb properly. “But you are not courting her?”
“Indeed not. I have no intention of planting roots that may threaten to bind me to any one location.” Caleb shook his head a touch too forcefully. A few gentlemen chatting nearby glanced at him curiously from around their drinks.
Luckily, Mr. Dunn seemed too lost in thought to notice, a bejeweled finger tapping his chin. “Then perhaps you might know if she has been entertaining any other suitors?”
Caleb shook his head again, this time with hard-won composure. “Not that I am aware of, no.”
Mr. Dunn nodded. “What do you make of her character?” he continued in a practical, unsentimental tone. “I have heard that she is extremely accomplished, even for a lady of good breeding. And there can be no denying that she is quite pretty, do you not think?”
The question twisted Caleb’s stomach around itself. He snatched a glass from the tray of a passing footman and took a generous sip, praying it would douse the uncomfortable heat building under the surface of his skin.
“Certainly, I suppose anyone would think so.”
“I am sure they must,” agreed Mr. Dunn with growing enthusiasm. “It would be exceedingly advantageous to marry a woman who brings distinction to me as her husband not merely through her accomplishments, but through her beauty as well.” He added in a sly whisper, “Is it wrong of me to enjoy imagining my friends’ shock if I were to secure a handsome wife?”
Caleb bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He forced a tight smile onto his face.
“Of course not. A man should take pride in his wife. Just as every woman should take pride in her husband. As to Miss Abbott’s character—”
“Ah, yes, yes.” Mr. Dunn laughed, waving a hand through the air. “Is she truly as proficient in the ladylike arts as they say?”
It took every bit of resolve Caleb could muster to summon a satisfactory answer that would deservedly extol Miss Abbott’s virtues while keeping hidden his unwarranted jealousy. Of course that was the source of the heat ravaging him from head to toe and the horrible ache in his stomach that would double him over the moment he was alone.
Yet again, he could not help it, no matter how desperately he longed to remember that he had no right to harbor such a feeling. His foolish heart would not allow him to release it.
“Whatever you have heard, I can assure you, does no justice to the truth.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Dunn’s mouth pulled down in an impressed sort of frown, the glint in his eyes growing sharper. “Pray tell me more.”
Ignoring everything inside him that screamed that this was not right, Caleb did as he was bid.
“Miss Abbott is the superior example of every quality any lady may hope to possess. Whether it be extensive reading, the study of languages and history and art, the practice of every fashionable skill from embroidery to painting to pianoforte, she excels at them all, not only because of her natural intelligence and talent, but also because of her dedication to constantly improving herself.”
“Very good, very good,” Mr. Dunn mumbled under his breath, nodding along, eyes narrowed.
“But, perhaps even more importantly,” Caleb said, compelling himself to continue, “Miss Abbott is also the superior example of every noble virtue any lady, and indeed any man, should hope to do honor by emulation. Her kindness, patience, integrity, and charity are second to none.”
“Excellent,” said Mr. Dunn quietly.
Caleb glanced at the other man. Mr. Dunn’s look of eager consideration faded as he gripped his chin.
“If I may offer any further assurances, I would be more than happy to do so,” Caleb quickly offered.
Of course, he did not desire to do anything to bolster Mr. Dunn’s interest, yet he also could not allow there to be any question about Miss Abbott’s suitability for marriage. Caleb had already ruined enough of her future.
“Since you seem so familiar with her temperament, you do not think she would become…disagreeable?” Mr. Dunn sighed and shrugged. “You know how these young ladies can be. Sometimes, if they are too bright… Well, it can lead to an obstinate nature, now can’t it? That is one thing I should very much like to avoid in a wife—”
“You need not entertain any fears on that score, sir,” Caleb said in a rush, dragging each word up his raw throat. A bead of sweat that had collected at the nape of his neck dripped down into his starched collar. “I have every reason to believe that Miss Abbott understands perfectly well what is expected of her.”
The tension in Mr. Dunn’s thin face eased. So much so, in fact, that he clapped a hand upon Caleb’s shoulder.
“Thank you, indeed, my lord. Miss Abbott does sound like precisely the sort of girl I—or my mama, rather—have been searching for.”
Caleb bit the inside of his other cheek this time. “And what have you been searching for, if I may ask?”
Mr. Dunn exhaled sharply and gave Caleb a commiserating smile that he did not share. “You know how mothers can be, too, no doubt. Now that I am nearing my thirtieth year, she has grown more insistent that I marry soon. Never mind the fact that I am doing no different than any other gentleman! What fellow is ever in a rush to shackle himself?
“Still, I have recently come to realize that once I appease dear Mama, she will no longer have reason to meddle in my affairs. Taking all you have kindly shared—and the other information —into consideration, I believe she shall suit the office just fine, indeed. Above all, I desired to know that she would leave me to my freedoms without quarreling. It sounds as though she will, based on your recommendation.”
“‘Other information’?” Caleb repeated, his brows knitting low over his nose as he attempted to ignore the rest.
“Ah, you have been absent for quite some time, my lord.” Mr. Dunn chuckled. “It is quite common knowledge these days that Miss Abbott prefers much the same as I do. As long as she leaves me to my peace and eventually provides an heir, I shall leave her to her pursuits. Does that not sound like the ideal arrangement?”
Caleb gave a smile that felt more like a grimace, his nails digging into the meat of his palms. “I am sure it shall bring you much joy.”
But not Isabel…
Of that, he was confident. She may have convinced the rest of the ton —even herself—that she would settle. Caleb could not be so deceived. Not with all he knew of her, all he had seen of her wonderful heart.
Miss Abbott would never be truly happy with a match in which her partner had no intention of sharing her interests or hearing her thoughts. Her material requirements would be sated, but not her intellectual and emotional needs.
With a thud , the adjoining door opened. The time had come for the men to rejoin the ladies in the drawing room. And not a moment too soon for Caleb.
“Lord Murfield, do recommend me to Miss Abbott, if you would not mind,” called Mr. Dunn as Caleb’s powerful legs carried him swiftly toward the door.
The other gentlemen spilled in slowly behind him and dispersed. One of them approached Miss Abbott and another young lady, conversing happily by the curtained window. Thankfully, the man led away the latter for a private word of their own.
Caleb’s body moved of its own accord once more, taking advantage of the opportunity. He crossed the room and paused before Miss Abbott.
“I sense that you did not enjoy your port as thoroughly as you would have liked,” she said. Her eyes widened as they took in what must have been quite a harried expression.
“I would have much rather continued our discussion of Salisbury Plain’s insects.” Caleb sighed wearily and rubbed at his jaw with a hand.
Miss Abbott stood a little straighter, curiosity returning in full force to her gaze. “We may continue it now, if you would like. But first…”
Pausing, she glanced over Caleb’s shoulder. He did the same and immediately chided himself. Seated in the middle of the room with an optimal view of the window, Mr. Dunn watched them intently. Caleb had known it would be a mistake to entertain the man’s queries and feed his hopes for as long as he had.
“I believe Mr. Dunn is attempting to catch your notice for some reason,” Miss Abbott whispered, artfully angling her face away.
Caleb huffed a wry chuckle. “Not my notice, but yours, Miss Abbott.”
“Mine?” She wrinkled her nose, fingers pinching her skirts.
“He requested that I recommend him to you.”
“And do you?”
For a long, quiet moment they stared at each other. Miss Abbott’s brow twitched up at the corners, a silent encouragement.
“He seems to match your criteria, and he assured me that you would be allowed to live your life as you see fit while he does the same.”
The words tasted wrong in Caleb’s mouth. Instead, he should have cried out with all the air in his lungs that there could be no world in which Mr. Dunn would bring Miss Abbott the happiness she truly deserved, even if she thought she did not want or need it.
Then again, Caleb had failed at that, too.
Miss Abbott’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
Caleb could only etch a tight smile onto his face. “Because this is what good friends are meant to do—support each other in reaching their dreams and goals.”
Though her gaze softened as she glanced over her shoulder once more, she did not appear particularly enthusiastic when she turned back to face Caleb again. Her curved lips, a pretty, pink hue, came together in an endearing pout.
“You are very kind to say so, but Mr. Dunn… I do not think it likely.” She gave a gentle shake of her head, so imperceptible that surely the gentleman in question would think nothing of it, if he noticed it at all from this distance.
Relief should have flooded Caleb. Yet he could not bring himself to be quite pleased about the shadow of disappointment cloaking her soft features.
“May I ask why?”
The strange question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. Miss Abbott looked down at the few inches of plush rug between their feet. The tops of her full cheekbones reddened.
“Because…he is simply not right.”
All of a sudden, her eyes flew up to meet his. Caleb nearly stumbled back at the intensity flashing in them. The burst of wild hope it ignited deep in his chest disappeared just as quickly.
“Pardon me. I just thought of something I must ask one of my acquaintances over there,” she mumbled, dropping her eyes again and hurrying away.
Mr. Dunn half-rose to his feet, triumph alight in his eyes.
“Ah, Miss Abb—”
She kept her gaze down and rushed past his seat, pretending not to hear, toward a group of young ladies. The man’s head whipped around to Caleb, his mouth still open with his ignored greeting.
His only reply was a subtle shrug and an apologetic frown. Even from here, he could see the exhale Mr. Dunn heaved. Luckily, he did not seem inclined to pursue the matter further and abandoned his chair in search of other prospects.
Caleb remained in his spot for several long moments, content to watch Miss Abbott converse with the girls who had cheerily welcomed her into their circle while he feigned admiration for the craftsmanship of a delicate porcelain vase.
No, he was not content, exactly. Perhaps he should have been, given her adamant statement against her potential suitor. Yet as he lingered here with hands clasped behind his back, so close to the object of his heart’s desire yet so removed from her life, Caleb did not feel at ease.
Mr. Dunn was not right. And neither was Caleb.
He knew her well enough to hear the unspoken in her words. Caleb’s fingers squeezed tighter around each other as he attempted to rationalize with himself. There must have been some way to control his feelings if he hoped to maintain any sanity during the Season, whatever remained of it.
After all, even if Miss Abbott had rejected Mr. Dunn tonight—and had turned away who-knew-how-many other hopefuls during the past few years—eventually, someone would win her hand, whether by her choice or by necessity. He sent up a silent prayer that he would be long gone from this place before he must be forced to witness it.
After all he had borne in his life already, Caleb knew he did not have the strength to bear that.