She had the strangest desire to rescue him.
Which was laughable, really. Mr. Ashford looked like a warrior bent on conquest. He certainly didn’t appear as if he could be laid low by a room full of smiling people. Yet there he stood, eyes burning. The very picture of a man being tortured.
Lenora frowned. The man was rude and abrasive. Not to mention he unsettled her in a very physical way. Even so, she could not sit idly by while he suffered.
Dinner was announced and everyone moved toward the door in natural pairings. Mr. Ashford froze, looking like a cornered beast. Before she quite knew what she was about, Lenora hurried to his side and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I believe, sir, you promised to bring me in to dinner.”
He could not have looked more startled. For a moment, Lenora thought he would recoil. But then relief flared in his eyes. With a small incline of his head, they followed the rest out.
Dinner parties held by Lady Tesh were informal affairs. The guests sat where they would, so it was an easy enough thing for Lenora to maneuver herself next to Mr. Ashford.
The footmen came forward, placing the first course on the table. A muttered oath reached Lenora. She blinked and looked Mr. Ashford’s way. He was staring at the spread as if he had never seen the like before in his life, his posture stiff and brittle.
Lenora leaned toward him. “I suppose it is a bit much.”
“A bit?” he blurted out.
She laughed quietly. “Truly, this is mild compared to what you would see in London.”
“You must be joking.”
The look of horror and disbelief on his face was so comical, she nearly laughed again. But he would not appreciate her mirth at his expense. Instead she said, “Not at all. Why, on one occasion there were twenty-five dishes for the first course alone.”
“Twenty-five,” he muttered, eyeing the dozen or so dishes on the table and shaking his head.
Soup was served then. Out of the corner of her eye, Lenora saw Mr. Ashford taking in the myriad utensils at his place. With exaggerated care, she reached for the soup spoon, brandishing it above her bowl a moment before dipping it into her dish. Blessedly Mr. Ashford was quick as well as smart. He soon followed suit.
Lenora smiled to herself. “You must tell me about America, Mr. Ashford,” she said in between sips of the creamy broth. “We’ve been occupying the same house for nearly a week, and yet I haven’t heard a thing about it from you. Do you not have elaborate dinner parties in Boston?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied.
“But surely, with your success in business, you must have been out in society.”
“I leave that to Quincy,” he said, motioning with his spoon toward his friend, who was holding court at the far end of the table.
Yes, she could see how that man would be the face of the business. He had a gift for charming others. She had never seen anyone so in their element as Mr. Nesbitt surrounded by people.
He was the opposite of Mr. Ashford. How did two completely dissimilar men become such good friends?
“You are wondering,” Mr. Ashford said, “how the two of us became acquainted, I suppose.”
Lenora gaped. “Are you a soothsayer?”
For the first time in the days she had known him, Mr. Ashford’s lips quirked in unrestrained humor. “It’s a question we’re asked often.”
The soup bowls were cleared, and the guests began serving themselves from the surrounding dishes. Mr. Ashford froze a moment before he turned his gaze to her in question.
Her chest swelling, Lenora motioned surreptitiously to the nearest serving dish, then to her own empty plate. “If you would be so kind?”
The man took to his task with alacrity, soon filling both their plates to overflowing. Lenora could not help the laughter that bubbled up, even as she waved her hands for him to stop.
“What is it?” he asked, freezing, serving tongs dripping with asparagus extended over her plate.
“I will never be able to eat all this, much less the second course.”
His mouth fell open. “There’s more?”
“Quite a bit more, I’m afraid.”
