At that same hour, Julia was drinking tea in the Blissbury drawing room.
Not alone, of course. Who drinks tea alone in someone else's house?
She smiled at the man sitting across from her.
Sergeant Ryan Thornton. Directly opposite, exactly where she wanted him.
Mrs. Parker, charmed by the fine weather, had opened the terrace doors, and a spring breeze carrying the scent of wild flowers drifted through the room. It stirred the ends of Sergeant Thornton's damp, neatly combed hair.
*How stately he is.*
Julia set her cup down with careful steadiness, suppressing the flutter in her chest.
For several days now, she had been the happiest woman in Feltham. Of all the many visitors who had come to Blissbury, she alone had been offered tea and asked to stay longer.
She was not foolish enough to read too much into it. The others hadn't been offered tea only because Sergeant Thornton hadn't been at the estate when they called. That was all.
But Julia had been lucky: she had encountered him returning from the river, soaking wet, and luck counted for something.
Watching him walk toward her — unhurried, dripping, entirely untroubled by his state — she had found she couldn't look away.
She had met a great many gentlemen in her life. Among all the marriageable girls in Feltham and Cambon, few had attended more social occasions than she had. It wasn't that she was reckless or deserving of censure — she was simply always invited. And as Lady Ogilvy often said with approval, all that exposure had *refined her taste.*
When you have seen enough, you learn naturally to tell the difference.
So her recent broken engagement had been a genuine blow. The man, by her own estimation, had been the most accomplished gentleman in Cambon society.
The moment she saw Sergeant Thornton walking toward her, she forgot the man's name entirely.
Between the perfectly composed Sergeant Thornton and the suddenly speechless Julia, it was Mrs. Parker who caused the most commotion.
"When did you slip out of the estate again? And the river — *again!* Look at those footprints on the floor, my goodness—"
She seized a towel and bustled off. Ryan, knowing it was impolite to abandon a guest, stayed where he was despite being thoroughly wet, and did what any well-bred person does in an awkward silence.
He asked about the weather.
"Is everything quiet in Feltham?"
Given a question she could answer, Julia listed every neighbor she could think of and summarized their affairs in pleasant detail. Sergeant Thornton listened without interruption, and after a long pause asked:
"And how is Mr. Severton?"
"Oh — I nearly forgot! He's very well."
"And his family?"
"Oh, yes..."
At the mention of the Severton household, something shifted in Julia's expression.
It wasn't that she had actively disliked Eloise from the beginning. But at some point, a particular irritation had taken root — toward this girl who, unlike Julia, consumed by thoughts of marriage and position, seemed to live without a care in the world.
And then the words of the man who ended their engagement had lodged themselves somewhere deep and wouldn't leave.
*"If you had the same situation as Miss Eloise, none of this would have happened..."*
After that, every time she saw Eloise, something inside her turned over. She had gone to church on Sundays and prayed sincerely to be rid of the feeling. Apparently her prayers hadn't been fervent enough. The feeling had only grown.
Now, sitting across from Sergeant Thornton as he asked about the Severton family, that old shard worked its way loose.
"Everyone is well. Though Miss Severton — Eloise — I'm not sure she is quite so well at the moment."
"Oh? Has something happened?"
"Well..."
Nothing had happened, not really. But she wanted to keep him talking. And she did not want to say anything kind about Eloise.
So Julia mentioned, offhandedly, that Eloise had been placed under something of a house arrest by her father. One thing led to another, and the conversation drifted through a pleasant catalogue of Eloise's childhood misadventures and small scandals.
Mrs. Parker reappeared with the towel. Ryan dried his hair and said to Julia:
"I apologize for receiving you in such a state. Would you do me the honour of visiting Blissbury again?"
Julia, forgetting entirely that a lady is supposed to pause and consider graciously before accepting, nodded at once.
"Of course. With great pleasure."
Worried he might think better of it, she named a date on the spot. And so this second meeting had come to pass.
---
On the way here, Julia had lectured herself sternly.
There was no engagement. And in Cambon society, she was already regarded as a woman whose engagement had been broken — people spoke to her with sympathy and looked at her with something else entirely. She could not afford another false start. No telling anyone, no hinting, no assuming anything until something was actually decided.
*We cannot repeat what happened last time.*
And yet she had worn her best dress.
The other girls hadn't even seen his face. She had met him by chance and been invited back herself. That had to mean something. There was no reason to rush and ruin it.
But the conversation was not going well.
Sergeant Thornton kept returning to the Severton family, question after question. Julia knew relatively little about them — Abigail and Eloise were close friends, and their mothers had been friends for years, but Julia had never paid much attention. She had scraped together what she could from half-remembered dinner conversation, and those scraps had run out some time ago.
The pauses between exchanges were growing longer. She could see his attention drifting toward the window.
*What do I say?*
"By the way — the Blissbury ball this summer will surely be wonderful again. All of Feltham is looking forward to it. Has the date been set yet?"
Ryan turned from the window.
---
He had already begun composing his excuses.
He had agreed to see Julia because he had decided, at some point, that he couldn't go on refusing every visitor indefinitely. He'd needed to see someone. Julia had been a coincidence — whoever happened to appear first would have done.
Though there was a second reason he had invited her back.
*"Eloise is a bit peculiar — she seems friendly with everyone, but apart from my sister she doesn't really have close friends. It's probably because she came from the capital. There are many differences between us."*
Julia had tried to phrase it delicately, but Ryan had spent years dealing with men far more practiced in cunning than a village girl. He had understood immediately: Eloise was seen as an outsider. They couldn't be openly hostile, so they maintained the shape of friendship. And Julia, beneath all her careful words, was deeply jealous.
He had listened to himself asking questions about the Severton family and wondered privately why he kept doing it. He noticed, too, that whenever the conversation reached Eloise, he found himself leaning in.
*She irritates me. That's why I pay attention.*
He had settled on that explanation and was selecting a polite goodbye when Julia mentioned the ball.
"The Blissbury Ball? What is that?"
"You didn't know?" Julia brightened at once. "Every summer, Blissbury holds a grand ball open to all of Feltham. Baron Stanford began it long ago, out of respect for the village. Until now, Mr. Severton has always organized it on the Baron's behalf."
She looked at him, eyes shining with anticipation.
"But this year, with you here, Sergeant — everyone is hoping you might bring something fashionable from the capital. The whole village is looking forward to it."
Ryan's expression cooled.
"No. This year the ball will be organized by Mr. Severton, as always."
---
The following morning, postman William arrived at the Severton house at a near-run.
"Ha — ha — urgent telegram for Mr. Severton!"
He caught his breath and read the short message aloud.
Mr. Severton's godmother, Lady Courtney, had fallen gravely ill. She wished to see him one last time, and asked that he come as soon as possible.