Page 69 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“And how do you know so much about our travels?” Sophie turned to her.
“I consulted a map in your library, but I admit it is already very vague in my mind and I wish I had another.”
Sophie leaned into her, their shoulders resting against one another. “I’m so grateful to have found a friend in you.”
“And I in you.”
“Tell me.” She searched the area around them before leaning closer. “How is Marc behaving now?”
“More friendly than he has ever been. We are companionable, close.”
Sophie squealed.
“But he’s stated plainly that he does not wish to marry, says he cannot. And his actions are friendly at best. Nothing more. Though, at times, I fear for my breath, as I don’t know where it has gone.”
Sophie laughed. “You are in danger indeed.”
“Of losing all respect for myself, yes.”
“But you must know what he means to do.”
“I do not. We will speak with his father about our wishes to choose whom we marry, and beyond that, I cannot tell whether Marc hopes to declare himself or step aside.” Rhi sighed.
“This journey will clinch things. You will see.”
They stood together for what seemed like the shortest of times, watching the shore, imagining what Oldenburg would be like, and discussing Elsie.
They stayed there until the sun was well on its way down into the horizon and Bartholomew called to them. “There you are.”
Sophie turned. “Oh, have you been searching us out?”
“We have. Would you care to meet the others for dinner in the mess hall?”
“We would, yes.” Sophie moved her hand to Bartholomew’s arm, and he offered the other for Rhi to take.
When Marc saw Rhi enter the mess hall, the room brightened considerably. She had that way with almost everyone. Both his brothers’ faces lit with smiles, and everyone stood to welcome the ladies.
Marc held out his hand, but Rhi was already on her way around the table to sit between Kristoff and Henri.
Sophie was watching Marc, amusement in her expression, so he pretended all was well and that he hadn’t expected Rhi to sit at his side instead. Kristoff waved for the servants to bring in their dinner.
The dinner was at first entertaining and enjoyable. The food was as delicious as he’d predicted, but he was unable to hear Rhi’s reactions, speak with her about all the options, and hear the reason for her laughter. She and his brothers were just far enough away that it would be odd for him to speak over the duke and duchess so that he might participate in their conversations.
After a time of silence, while Bartholomew and Sophie were sitting close talking and Rhi and Kristoff and Henri were making merry, Marc took a drink and said, “Bartholomew, how is your estate?”
“Excellent. We are positively thriving. I hear Hayes has used similar farming techniques in the south of Oldenburg, with exceptional results.”
And, just as Marc had hoped, Henri perked up. “Oh, you will be most interested to hear of Charlie’s further efforts with soil. Our gardener is one of the foremost researchers on our methods. It is rather remarkable what an excellent gardener with good soil will do, even with minimal water.”
The conversation then evolved into a singular subject with all involved, and Marc felt satisfied.
Rhi’s eyes were on him at last, and they held questions. But he didn’t wish to answer those questions. Could she read him well enough to discern the answers herself? Perhaps she’d caught a hint of his purpose in redirecting his brothers’ attention away from her.
He stood. “Since we are finished eating, perhaps we could take the conversation outside to the cool air on deck?”
“Oh yes, I have heard there is nothing like a night sky full of stars at sea.” Sophie rested a hand on Bartholomew’s arm. “Perhaps there will be more to see here on the river than in the heart of London.”
They all followed Sophie and Bartholomew from the room. No one stood on ceremony on board their ship, not among friends anyway. But Marc was again frustrated when Rhi took Kristoff’s offered arm instead of his own.
