Page 16 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
Margot’s eyes brimmed with tears, her composure slipping further. “It’s just…Eleanora, even my own parents, they seem blind to my struggles. They see the surface, but not the turmoil within.”
Arthur desperately tried to find the right words to offer comfort and understanding. “Sometimes, those closest to us might not fully comprehend the depths of our grief. But your feelings are valid, Margot, and it’s important to acknowledge them. You must let them out, otherwise, they will eat you up alive.” He knew that feeling well.
Torn between her pain and the desire to keep up appearances, Margot abruptly withdrew from Arthur’s comforting touch. “Thank you, Arthur,” she whispered, attempting a weak smile. “I…I need a moment alone.”
Watching her go, Arthur felt a profound helplessness. He wished he could do more to alleviate her suffering, to ease the burden she carried. He could only hope that Margot would find the strength to confront her grief and seek the support she needed.
As for himself, he continued towards the dining hall, settling himself next to a lady who, as he would momentarily find out, happened to be none other than Catherine’s aunt. The moment her eyes fell on him, they widened in surprise.
“Why, aren’t you Arthur Taylor, the Earl of Rinder?” she inquired politely, with a mischievous childish gleam in her eyes.
“Yes,” he smiled. “The one and only.”
“Oh, I have heard so much about you, young man,” she admitted, curiosity and amusement pouring out of her every word.
“Only good, I hope,” he replied, hoping that she might take his mind off of the previous two difficult conversations he had had.
“Oh, good people are boring, dear boy,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “It is those with scars, those with holes in their hearts that have the most interesting stories.”
He had it all. Scars, as well as holes in his heart.
“But look at me, being all rude,” she chuckled. “I am Lady Prudence Birdside.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Birdside.” He bowed his head respectfully.
“Likewise, dear boy,” she beamed at him. “I was planning on joining Catherine on her trip here, but I had some business of hers to take care of first.”
“A dutiful aunt,” he complimented her.
“Oh, I would rather call Catherine a dutiful niece,” she corrected him. “She does so much for me. I honestly do not know where she finds the time for it all. Catherine is an avid writer, you know,” Lady Birdside said, leaning closer to him, as if sharing in on a conspiracy. “She has a way with words, a true literary talent. In fact, she’s been diligently tending to her business, but with her absence, I tied up some loose ends, and here I am now.”
Arthur’s interest was piqued at the mention of Catherine’s writing. He had always sensed a depth to her, a hidden world of creativity and imagination that he longed to explore.
“Writing?” Arthur asked, carefully probing. “What does Catherine write about?”
It was obvious that Lady Birdside realized she had slipped where she wasn’t supposed to and tried to backtrack.
“Writing?” she chuckled nervously. “Is that what I said? Oh, I meant reading. An avid reader.”
He tilted his head a little. “But you mentioned a way with words, a true literary talent. One doesn’t need that for mere reading.”
“Oh, yes. I did say that, didn’t I?” she echoed, smiling even more nervously now. “You shouldn’t listen to the ramblings of an old woman and take everything at face value, dear boy. I meant, she is an avid reader, but she does have a way with words in the sense that she writes letters, accounts, and such. Catherine is quite diligent in managing our affairs.”
However, the seed of curiosity had been planted in Arthur’s mind. There was a discrepancy in Lady Birdside’s words, a hint that there might be more to Catherine’s literary endeavors than met the eye. He couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay beneath the surface, concealed within the words she carefully penned.
Arthur decided that perhaps, at an opportune moment, he would gently broach the subject with Catherine. The allure of discovering this hidden aspect of her intrigued him, and he longed to understand the depths of her creativity. But for now, he would play the gracious guest and continue to unravel the enigmatic layers of the Winters’ estate, fully aware that the secrets within its walls were more numerous than he could have ever imagined.
As if the universe had listened to his most hidden thoughts, the moment Arthur glanced at the opposite side of the table, he noticed Marcus unwilling to participate in any conversations that had been going on around him. So, after dinner, when it was time for the ladies and the gentlemen to separate, he sat next to his friend in the parlor as they enjoyed a glass of whiskey.
“Why so glum, old boy?” Arthur tried a cheerful approach with his friend, who lifted his gaze after taking a sip of the drink that seemed to slide down his throat effortlessly.
“Life, Arthur,” Marcus sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Life.”
Arthur smiled. “I know what you mean. Let’s drink to life getting better…hopefully.”
“Drinking won’t help there,” Marcus replied, but he gladly agreed to raise a small, private toast, just the two of them.
Their conversation started off with simply catching up, only for Arthur to share the unsettling events he had discovered during the previous few days, regarding Margot.
