Pressing his lips tight, Peter moved forward and sank into the chair, all the while painfully aware of Miss Hartley on his right.
“I must say, my lady,” Quincy said, “this is delightful. A more elegant picnic I could not imagine.”
“Mr. Nesbitt, you are too wonderful. If you don’t stop with the flattery, I’ll be forced to keep you here against your will when your month’s stay is up.”
Quincy grinned. “You’ll have no reason to keep me here by force, not if you continue to house such lovely guests.” He looked at the younger women. Was it Peter, or did his friend’s eyes linger a touch too long on Miss Hartley?
Scowling, Peter shot a booted foot out and caught Quincy squarely in the shin. The other man grunted in pain, the smile falling from his face. He glared at Peter, rubbing his leg under the table.
“Are you quite all right, Mr. Nesbitt?” Lady Tesh demanded.
“Just banged my knee, is all,” Quincy gritted, turning a tight smile her way.
The excuse seemed to satisfy Lady Tesh. “Do take care,” she said, before turning to signal to the waiting footmen to serve. As Quincy drew both the viscountess and Mrs. Kitteridge into conversation, Peter began to feel a peculiar tingling at the nape of his neck. Just then a soft voice sounded in his ear.
“Why did you kick Mr. Nesbitt?”
Against his better judgment he turned to look at Miss Hartley. The shock of her green eyes boring into his had him sucking in a breath. He quickly recovered and scowled. “My friend oversteps himself and has to be reminded at times of his impropriety.”
Her brows knit a moment before understanding cleared them. “You think Margery or myself might be in danger from his charms? You may lay those fears to rest. There’s no chance of that happening with either of us.”
It was said with such certainty that Peter found his mood shifting. Was she thinking of Hillram? Had she loved him so very much that she could never see herself falling for another?
And why the hell did that bother him so damn much?
***
After the meal was cleared away, Lady Tesh leaned back and surveyed her guests.
“I imagine you all wish to be off now for some exercise.”
Instantly an image filled Lenora’s head, of wandering over the rolling hills, her hand tucked into the crook of Mr. Ashford’s arm. The longing it brought about nearly undid her. “Surely we could not leave you alone, Gran,” she hurried to say.
“Nonsense,” the older woman stated. “Getting you all off is just the excuse I need for a nap. Besides, I’ve found your old paint things and have had them set up just beyond those trees.”
Lenora froze. “My paint things?” At Lady Tesh’s nod, she said, panic making her voice a touch louder than she intended, “It would be rude of me to separate myself from the party like that.”
“A problem I have already considered,” Lady Tesh declared, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “I’ve had Margery’s things brought as well, and so you may have a companion in your artistic endeavors. Margery,” she barked, “why don’t you go on ahead, make certain things are set up properly.”
“But Gran—” Margery tried, shooting a worried glance at Lenora.
“Enough loitering about,” Lady Tesh barked. “I’ve a mind to speak to Lenora alone, and so you may take Mr. Nesbitt and see to things, as I’ve asked you.”
With reluctance, Margery took Mr. Nesbitt’s arm and moved off.
Mr. Ashford made to follow. Lady Tesh’s voice stopped him.
“Peter, you may stay, for the proposition I’m about to make includes you as well.”
Surely the man would not take such a tone from his great-aunt. But apart from a muscle ticking in his jaw, he made no response as he reclaimed his seat.
Lady Tesh returned her attention to Lenora. “I’ve a job for you, my dear.”
Lenora blinked. “A job?”
“Yes, an important one. You gave me the idea on your first day here, when you mentioned your plan to visit your old haunts.”
“Ah, yes.” She gave her a sickly smile. After the strain of Danesford, she had conveniently forgotten about her original intention in coming to the Isle.
