Page 5 of The Spring Promise (The Starlings of Starling Hall #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

M olly was finding the outing surprisingly enjoyable. She had expected to be miserable, watching Will woo his lady love, but she could see that Celeste wasn’t paying any more attention to Will than she was to Mark Hunter. In fact, after watching Celeste for a time, Molly concluded that the other woman was not partial to either of them—she flirted with them equally, yes, but she had seen the woman give that same coy smile of hers to the footman who’d carried in the tea things. So yes, Molly was enjoying herself.

Then Celeste and Will disappeared together.

Molly grew annoyed, and worried, but she could hardly follow them. Not without making matters awkward. So she remained with the others and refused to think about what might be happening with Will and Celeste. Well, she tried , but her mind would not obey.

Were they holding hands and sharing secrets? Or worse, kisses? Was Will proposing to her at this moment, and she saying yes? Would they return all flushed and excited to share the news?

Sir Reginald waxed poetic about the various plants in his collection, where they had come from and what made each special, but Molly’s spirits only sank lower. She wondered if she should make up some excuse and leave. Perhaps she could say she was feeling ill, and that was close enough to the truth.

Molly then realised that Mark Hunter had joined her. Not only that, he had spoken to her and she hadn’t heard a word.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”

“I asked if you were a keen botanist, Miss Lacey?” There was a smile in his brown eyes that she suspected held more than a hint of desperation. Hunter was also staring at the door, as if he also wondered what Will and Celeste were up to. It seemed Molly was in the company of a fellow sufferer, and it did help.

“I wouldn’t call myself a botanist, Mr Hunter, but I like to sit in the garden and smell the roses. Although I do not know their names.” She was about to add that Will did know their names but stopped herself. Instead, she inquired, “Are you interested in botany, Mr Hunter?”

Hunter cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious. “I am, and no one is more surprised by that fact than me. I have even started my own collection in my grandmother’s greenhouse.”

Molly widened her eyes. “I am in awe.”

He gave a soft laugh, his gaze fixed on hers, and she realised that he was a very attractive man. “Allow me to bore you with the particulars of some of my treasures,” he offered, and proceeded to do just that.

He wasn’t boring. Molly found the subject interesting. Or, more accurately, Mr Hunter made it so. The long lectures by Sir Reginald on the contents of his conservatory had bored her, but Mr Hunter’s stories were amusing and interesting.

Then, just as Hunter had finished a story about the perils of importing exotic seeds, Abby Starling arrived—late as usual—and came to join them.

Will’s sister looked flustered, and Molly wondered if she had forgotten to brush her hair. “I saw my brother and Miss Morton on the roof,” Abby said.

Hunter did not seem to understand the significance of this, but Molly did. “Was he… Are you sure?” she said. “On the roof ?”

Hunter looked from one to the other, curious. “There is a fine view from up there. It can get a little chilly. Is that a problem for your brother, Miss Starling?”

“Oh no. I mean yes,” Abby stammered. “He has a delicate chest, you see.”

Molly almost groaned aloud. Will had a cast iron constitution. He was never ill and was immensely proud of it. Abby made him sound like one of those invalids who were always coddling themselves with mustard plasters when everyone could see Will was a healthy young man. She wondered whether he would have preferred they share his fear of heights with his rival, rather than a ‘delicate chest’. But then she told herself it was Will’s fault they were in this position. Why had he gone up onto the roof anyway when he had such a morbid fear of heights? Was he that keen on Celeste? If anything could prove it, then it was this act of bravery on his part.

Perhaps Will really was lost to her.

Just then, Will and Celeste returned.

Molly could not see any signs of an impending engagement upon their faces. In fact, they didn’t look happy. Apart from being paler than usual—that would be because of the roof—Will wore his stern face, which he used whenever he was hiding his hurt feelings. As for Celeste, she was even more vivacious than before, but now it seemed like a performance for the sake of her guests.

Molly tried to catch Will’s eye, but Mark Hunter began another amusing story about his plant collection. One that turned out to be so amusing that she couldn’t help but laugh. When next she had the opportunity to look at Will, she discovered he was frowning at her.

Well, that was odd. Wasn’t she doing exactly as he had asked her to? Amusing Mark Hunter and allowing Will to be alone with Celeste?

Goodness, had Will and Celeste had a falling out?

Molly tried not to get her hopes up. Perhaps it was just a lovers’ tiff, or Will was still recovering from his experience on the roof.

“It’s snowing!” Celeste declared, surprising everyone.

Molly moved with the others to peer out of the windows, wiping away the fog on the glass. There really was snow falling! The younger Starlings liked nothing more than to play in the snow. The last time they had gone out tobogganing, and Molly and Will had taken turns to steer the little ones safely down the hill. They had all ended up happy but exhausted, and Will and Molly had sat together by the roaring fire in Starling Hall. They had taken off their shoes and stockings and wriggled their toes on the hearth.

Will had said they must do it again, and she had said she would love to.

It was one of her favourite memories.

Somewhere in her silly heart, she had hoped that he would pop the question back then. But no, it was not to be. Never to be. It would be Celeste who sat in front of the fire and wriggled her toes with Will. Which was sad, really, but Molly refused to be downcast. She was young, with many years before her, and she was sure she would grow to love Celeste, given time. Years, perhaps. Decades…

Well, honestly, probably never.

Molly blinked and tried to listen to Mr Hunter, who was still regaling her with his plant hobby. Abby was with Sir Reginald now, looking glassy eyed as she listened to another long-winded tale about a bulb he had traced all of the way to Australia and paid a king’s ransom to have shipped home. Abby was too polite to make an excuse and escape—people were always taking advantage of her generous nature.

“It took months,” said Sir Reginald. “and yet it arrived in perfect condition. Truly remarkable.”

“Remarkable,” Abby murmured absently.

Molly bit back her smile, but Mark had been watching.

“You must think me a bore as well,” he said wryly. “At first, I believed Sir Reginald was very tedious, but now I understand his compulsion to share something so fascinating.”

Molly had to admire his self awareness. “Not boring at all,” she assured him. “It makes a change from listening to my sister’s discussions on the latest style of bonnet or what colour is in vogue this season. For your information, it is greenish gold.”

“Perhaps, but I think we can agree the man could use a few lessons on public speaking.” He laughed. He had a nice laugh. In fact, he had turned out to be nothing at all like Will had described him.

“Was it snowing when you were on the roof?” Mark asked Celeste.

Molly could see from the expression on his face that he was trying to discover what happened up there. Had Will proposed and been accepted?

“Not that I noticed,” Celeste replied, with a glance at Will who was looking fashionably greenish.

Molly gave Mark a sympathetic smile. It seemed obvious that something had happened but neither Celeste nor Will were about to share the details.

“Do you think it is worth the climb?” Mark went on, maybe a little desperately.

“Oh yes,” Celeste assured him it was. “In fact, it will be even better now it is snowing. Shall we go up and see?”

With a nod of the head at Molly, Mark let her lead him away.

“Was it very high up?” Molly asked Will once they were gone.

“Extremely, with nothing but a flimsy railing between me and the hereafter.” He groaned. “Celeste could see I was petrified. Not my finest moment.”

Molly took his hand in hers. “Will, if you truly love someone, and they love you, then there should be no reason not to show them your true self. Pretending to be something you are not is unsustainable. Eventually, the truth will out.”

“Yes, but there is a time and a place for the truth,” he argued. His auburn hair, perfectly styled when he’d first arrived, was now messy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

“You mean you hope to win her over, marry her, and then show her your true self?” Molly said, with a humourless laugh. “That does not bode well for a long and happy life together.”

Will shook his head.

“I know about your fear of heights, and I don’t think less of you for it. It really is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But you’re…” He sought for words. “It isn’t the same, Molly. We grew up together. We had time to accept one another for who we are. Marriage is an altogether different proposition.”

Molly longed to say he was wrong, that she ‘loved’ him for all his strengths and faults and always would. But what was the use? She wasn’t the one he wanted. All the same, when he was startled by a long exotic leaf that brushed the back of his neck, she took his arm in hers.

“Let us find somewhere else to be, shall we?”

He laughed nervously. “You do know me well.”

It was an effort for Molly to smile back, but she managed it.