“What?” He looked at her with mock, wide-eyed innocence.
“Pretending to be more stupid than you really are.”
A chuckle escaped him. “It’s because I enjoy seeing you flustered, Miss Weston.”
To his delight, she blushed prettily. His spirits soared.
“You take this rather seriously, don’t you?”
“It is very important, Mr Merivale. I want you to succeed.”
He shook his head. “I wonder whether it wouldn’t be easier if I just call on the fellow.”
“Yes, you can call on his lordship the dayafterthe dinner. To follow up on any kind of agreement you may have made with him during the after-dinner port session. This is where you bring up the topic of your invention.”
“Not during supper?”
She shook her head. “The earl will sit at the head of the table, and while you will sit in his vicinity, it is your job to keep your table lady entertained. Focus your conversation on her, then on the neighbour on the other side.”
He groaned. “I have no idea how to do this.”
Arabella shrugged. “Just be yourself.”
“You know that when I am myself, I keep rambling on about my inventions. I may be a social boor, but even I know that the lady won’t be amused.”
“Right. You need a battle plan.” She bit her lip. He noticed that her two front teeth were infinitesimally crooked. Another detail that made her charming.
“A battle plan sounds good.” He leaned on his elbow again. She pushed it away.
“First, you talk about the weather. Then, you enquire as to whether she enjoys the food. You can comment on each dish, in fact, but don’t overdo it. Then — oh, I don’t know.” Arabella thought for a moment. “Women usually like it when men flatter them.”
“Flatter. Hm. Let’s assume you are my table companion, and I am going to attempt conversation.” He cleared his throat, bent forward and stared intensely into her eyes. “Did you know that your eyes are not exactly blue? There are fire-golden sprinkles around the iris, like stardust swirling in the infinite summer night’s sky, wild and free.” He observed, fascinated, how her eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I am making table talk. I am flattering you.” He tilted his head to one side. “Did it work?”
A deep flush spread over her pale face. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me.”
“Good.” He leaned back, satisfied.
She shook herself. “But it is entirely inappropriate for a dinner conversation. This was a flirtation. Quite another thing altogether.” Her voice took on the censorious tone of the governess.
“But you said I should flatter women!” He grinned.
“You had better stick to the weather. Or even better, just get her to talk, and you listen. Women like good listeners.”
“Capital plan, indeed.” Philip observed with interest that she was still flustered. He placed one elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand.
She pulled his arm away. “Never, ever put your elbows on the table. Sit up straight. Chin up. Arms to your body.”
“She’s worse than a field marshal,” he muttered to himself. “I can’t see the food on my plate if I have to keep my chin up. I’ll be looking directly at the flower arrangement or the person on the other side to whom I am not supposed to talk.”
Arabella sighed.
“In all seriousness. How am I to eat my soup in this manner? Navigating it to my mouth will be a science. I’ll dribble it all over my expensive waistcoat.”
Speaking of which. Granda had brought an entire wardrobe with him. He must’ve planned this far ahead of time. Philip growled.
