situation, perhaps that is why he asked me to speak to you.”
Surprised, Anna gazed across the churchyard. The major caught her look and ducked away, but not before she saw his slight grin. His kindness swept over her like a warm blanket, once again causing tears to form.
The vicar squeezed her shoulder as Papá used to do. “Miss Newfield, if Lady Greystone permits, may I call upon you? Sometimes we are helped in our grieving when we have a friend to talk with.”
Anna could do no more than nod and offer a trembling smile. And lift a silent prayer of thanks for both the vicar and the major, two gentlemen whose compassion for her was clearly God’s consolation in her grief.
* * *
Edmond gratefully watched Mr. Partridge visit with Miss Newfield, but discomfort replaced approval when she seemed about to cry. Then like a gallant dragoon, she visibly reined in her emotions, easing his concern. Mother would not have a weeping woman for a companion and would doubtless send the young woman away, should she be given to tears. Most mornings in the breakfast room, her eyes were rimmed with red, and an ache to comfort her formed in Edmond’s chest. Yet she soldiered on through the day with a pleasant countenance.
He could not help but wonder what deep thoughts dwelt behind those intelligent green eyes, which seemed to miss nothing and more often than not exuded a selfless interest in others. Then again, he could not watch her too much or Greystone would begin his teasing once more. If he did, Edmond would be sorely tempted to thrash his brother, title notwithstanding. He’d never been a cruel fellow, but he seemed oblivious to the danger he put Miss Newfield in with his unfounded innuendos.
Edmond held no more rancor toward Greystone than he did toward Richard, who was far more circumspect in all matters. But Greystone had never had a care in the world. With wealth and power at his disposal, his future was assured. He could participate in politics as much or as little as he wished and even avoid too much involvement in Parliament without loss.
Yet in only one way did Edmond envy Greystone: he alone had any memories of their father, who died when Edmond was only three. Did his brothers wonder, as he often did, how their lives might have been different if Father had survived the influenza that struck Greystone Village in 1789? Would Mother have been a softer woman, more kindly and generous, instead of a woman to be feared by those whose lives she controlled? But neither Mother nor Greystone spoke of the fourth Lord Greystone, either for good or for ill, leaving only unanswered questions. Even his portrait was hung at the end of the family’s portrait gallery where no daylight illuminated it.
As the family fell into line behind his parent and eldest brother to begin their journey home, Edmond offered his arm to Miss Newfield. Surely Mother could not object to this simple courtesy. For his part, the young lady’s pretty smile lightened the weight in his chest caused by his dark musings and replaced it with an unexpected surge of joy. In the presence of her refreshing optimism, he found himself believing she would bring good things to his family. But as she set her delicate, gloved hand on his arm, he found it exceedingly difficult to watch the scenery when he would much prefer to study her fair face, a regard that could cause them both some serious difficulty.
Chapter Nine
E arly the next week, Lady Greystone announced at breakfast that she would spend the afternoon at the village school. After her talk with Mrs. Hudson, Anna need not ask whether she would be accompanying her employer. In fact, the excursion sounded more than a little appealing.
“Edmond.” Lady Greystone stared down the table at her youngest son. “You will go with me.” Her words carried a commanding tone.
“Of course.” Major Grenville sounded bored as he toyed with his eggs, but his eyes betrayed an awareness that incited Anna’s curiosity. As