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tight and condescending. “He is offering you soup.”
    Finnea felt her answering blush, a blush that grew worse when she saw her mother’s flash of embarrassment. Mortified, Finnea turned to the footman and nodded.
    Soon everyone was served and Finnea had no choice but to eat, though which of the slew of spoons she was supposed to use she had no idea. Not wanting to make another mistake, surreptitiously she tried to see what everyone else was using. But given the assortment of flowers and tall stemware dotting the table like trees in a forest, Finnea couldn’t make out which spoon the others had picked up. Her only clear view was of Matthew in between three towering crystal goblets. But he wasn’t eating at all.
    With no help for it, hoping for the best, she made a choice. Choosing the closest to her hand, she picked it up and waited. Then she sighed her relief when no one said a word.
    “Matthew had a wonderful time in his travels,” his mother said, her tone soft and loving. “He brought back the most interesting gifts.” She sighed unexpectedly, her eyes clouding in sudden memory. “I remember a silvered mirror Matthew brought me from Venice years ago. I still have it. Do you remember that, Matth—”
    As soon as she looked up at him, her words cut off and her gaze grew startled, as if both surprised and devastated by the sight of her son.
    Finnea knew in that second that she had been right on the train: He hadn’t always been so fierce, or so scarred.
    What had happened to him? she wondered. What had changed his life so drastically?
    No one spoke. They watched as the careless disregard that had marked Matthew’s face all night long evaporated into the candlelit night. Finnea wanted to weep for this man when he looked at his mother with grim devastation of his own.
    But after a moment passed, it was her own mother who broke the awkward silence. “I hope everyone here has received their invitations to the gala ball we are having to honor Finnea’s birthday.”
    Penelope sat forward, excited. “It’s going to be a grand affair. Mother Lettie and I have been making the most wonderful arrangements.”
    Mother Lettie.
    As if Nester’s fiancée were the daughter instead of Finnea.
    Leticia toyed with her pearls, then glanced at Jeffrey with a meaningful smile. “We are hoping Finnea will have some joyous news to announce at the ball.”
    Finnea’s head shot up. Joyous news?
    Jeffrey reached over and discreetly squeezed Finnea’s hand beneath the table, and she understood very suddenly what she should have understood earlier when he had placed a possessive hand against her back as he led her to the dining room. From the minute she had met him he had shown her nothing but kindness and consideration. He had made her feel cared for and welcomed. And now she realized that he was going to ask her to marry him.
    Hot embarrassment shot through her when she glanced up to find Matthew pinning her with a penetrating gaze, and she looked away.
    Nester straightened in his seat. “What news? I haven’t heard a thing about any news.”
    “Now, dear,” Leticia said, her voice cajoling. “I can’t say. It would ruin the surprise.”
    “I think I have a right to know, Mother.”
    “Nester, please.” She gave him a pointed look, tempered with a smile.
    Soon the soup bowls were cleared from the table. Thankfully, this time when the footmen appeared Finnea wasn’t expected to do anything. A plate was simply set before her. A large plate covered with food. Though the only things she recognized were the gossamer-thin petals of a nasturtium.
    But at least she recognized that. With a silent sigh of relief that there was something she knew what to do with, she picked up the long green stem of the umbrella-shaped flower and bit off the top.
    It wasn’t until she glanced up, one betraying petal stuck to her lip, the stem still held in her hand, that she realized everyone, including the statue like footmen, had stopped to