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laughter, it was all so distant.
    As though drawn by his attention, Donna turned to him. Her full, lush wine-colored lips curved into a smile and her large eyes sparkled with pleasure. She moved closer, her lavender-rose scent settled over him, a beguiling fragrance.
    This evening, his first night back home amongst friends, he had been looking forward to enjoying many things. Especially the fine food.
    His emotions were in a whirl.
    His world had been shattered.
    He had yet to come to grips with it.
    Before he had left Blayne House, his aunt had been all aflutter. Catriona was overset and she would not be able to attend supper but must be sent a small, light meal on a tray.
    What did you say to her? What did you do?! I warned you about how fragile she is now!
    Aunt Frances’ words still rang in his ears. He had upset Sunny that much? His chest constricted and vague queasiness twisted his gut. The last thing he had wanted was to upset Sunny’s peace.
    The sound of Donna delicately clearing her throat pulled him from his tormented thoughts.
    Automatically, he returned her smile, feeling his face stretch painfully as though it were suddenly turned to hardened leather.
    Her smile widened and her eyes brightened even more.
    “Lord Blayne, we have missed you so much.” Her voice was soft. Her claret-scented breath wafted up to him.
    “Ah, Donna, it’s no longer Lord Blayne. ‘Tis the Earl of Greythorn now. Our good friend is soon to be a mighty English peer.”
    James forced a smile, though it felt his face would crack with the effort. He waved at Sir Carson dismissively. “Not yet.”
    Sir Carson raised his bushy blond brows. “But soon.”
    “Soon. However, I have yet to become accustomed to being called Lord Blayne.” He frowned. “Somehow that will always make me think of Freddy.”
    James hated himself for his pettiness. He hated having feelings he couldn’t control. But he detested feeling as though he were walking in Freddy’s footsteps in any way, shape or form.
    But others wouldn’t understand that. Murmurs of sympathy and platitudes rumbled in the wake of his words. Cousin Freddy had been a handsome, charming, well-liked young man. Raised as the heir, he’d been petted and spoiled by his arrogant, English-born mother. He’d grown up selfish, unable to deny himself even when it meant consigning Sunny to a life as wife to an invalid and an early widowhood.
    Freddy had begun courting Sunny when she was only fifteen. He had ingratiated himself with her. Had insinuated himself into her affections before she knew her own mind. Not to mention the heaps of obligation and loyalty that Sunny had been encouraged to feel toward Aunt Frances.
    By the time James had met her, she was eighteen and fully committed to being Freddy’s wife.
    She hadn’t ever had a fair chance at making her own choices. Leading her own life.
    She hadn’t even been allowed a Season.
    Not even a Season.
    The thought tore into his heart.
    “I suppose you prefer Rear-Admiral Blayne?” Carson asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
    “I am more used to that.” It had been all he’d been raised to expect. And didn’t he wish he could have stayed at sea? Aunt Frances ruled over Landbrae with an iron fist—iron, albeit swathed in the finest velvet. Part of him hated to crush her pride by yanking that power from her grasp. Yes, he might have left Landbrae alone for quite a while. Until age dulled Aunt Frances’ wits and took her vigor away. But his new, sizable English estate required his management. The Greythorn earldom, once it was bestowed, would make him an English peer. He needed to take his place in the House of Lords. There was also the matter of an heir.
    And now there was the thorny matter of Lady Catriona Blayne.
    “Well, once again,” Donna said, flashing him a beautiful smile, “have you been enjoying your freedom since leaving the navy, Lord Blayne?”
    “Immensely.” James managed to inject enthusiasm into his voice.