“Your list?” He stopped before her chair.
“My new list of prospective brides, that we spoke about on our drive,” she elaborated. “I left it in my reticule. I can fetch it now so we can review it together during dinner.”
“Later, perhaps. I have no wish to discuss something as dull as debutantes over the soup course. Dullness makes me bilious.”
She almost chuckled at his dramatic statement but refrained at the last moment, allowing him to seat her. “Rather a lot of things seem to make you bilious.”
He sat in the chair at the head of the table, to her right. “What can I say? I have a highly sensitive disposition.”
She shouldn’t find his nonsense charming.
Or endearing.
Or amusing.
And yet, she did, curse him.
“When it favors you to have one,” she countered wryly.
He smiled at her, and when the Duke of Brandon smiled, he smoldered, capable of sending any female within reach up in flame. Lottie was vexingly not immune.
“My dear Lady Grenfell, why should I do something thatisn’tin my favor?”
With a single motion from him, dinner officially began.
Wine goblets were filled, and a tureen of artichoke soup was delivered. Brandon discreetly dismissed the attending footman, leaving the two of them alone as he raised his glass of wine to her.
“A toast is in order, I should think,” he said. “To the loveliest lady I know agreeing to accompany me for dinner.”
His attention was steady upon her, and just as it had been earlier during their drive, the unwavering intensity of his stare cut through her defenses. She couldn’t look away, even though she knew she would be better served to distract herself with the wine in her glass and the delicious-smelling soup awaiting in her bowl.
“To the most maddening gentleman I know,” she returned with meaning, clinking her goblet against his.
He laughed, the sound deep and dark and decadent. He was somehow even more handsome when amused. Goodness, it required all the self-control she had to keep from launching herself upon the table and offering her body as the evening’s feast instead of the courses his cook had planned.
They both drank.
And still, he didn’t look away, holding her ensnared in his emerald gaze. She watched the way his lips molded to the rim of the glass, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he drank. He was so potently masculine. She well understood how he had left a trail of conquests across England and—if his teasing earlier was to be believed—the world beyond as well. He was magnetic and intoxicating. A man who made a woman want to savor him.
She couldn’t do that, however, so she settled for his wine instead. It flowed over her tongue, awakening her palate.
“This is delightful.”
“Procured from one of my travels to the Continent,” he said. “Fine French wine is becoming dearer and dearer, thanks to the phylloxera pestilence. It’s a crime, what is happening to some of the world’s best vineyards.”
“I’ve been reading about it inThe Times.” And although she wasn’t well-versed in the art of wine, she knew enough to appreciate the dire circumstances facing France, with the roots of grapevines being systematically destroyed. “It sounds perfectly dreadful.”
“That is because it is,” he agreed, bringing a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “Nearly half the vineyards of France have been, or are in the process of, being destroyed by it. Despite the measures being taken to stop the plague from spreading, it continues to do so.”
She ruminated on his words and the soup she had just tasted. It was excellent. Apparently, the Duke of Brandon’s cook was quite skilled. This didn’t surprise her in the slightest. He struck her as a man who demanded the best of everything. His apparent interest in French vineyards, however, did.
“Have you visited France in your time on the Continent?” she asked.
“I have,” he confirmed with uncharacteristic brevity.
Her curiosity took control of the conversation and her tongue.
“And how did you find it? I have always longed to travel to France. Not to Paris, as is so common, but to Bordeaux. To visit the grand wineries, the first-class vineyards such asChateau LafitteorChateau Margaux.”
