Hopefully Drew Nicol would agree.
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THE DINING ROOM ATDalkeiths was a gloomy, hushed cocoon of a place.
The walls were panelled in dark, burnished wood, and blood-red Turkish carpets muffled the floors. The windows were obscured by heavy curtains of maroon velvet. Beeswax candles of the best quality glowed in wall sconces and on tables, but their light was somehow robbed by all those rich, dark furnishings, and by the equally dark clothes of the soberly attired patrons.
When Lindsay entered the room, brilliant in silver and lilac, the diners’ murmured conversations petered out and a few heads turned his way, showing shadowy, disapproving expressions. Lindsay wished then that he’d worn his hair powdered after all, to look all the more dramatically bright. Instead, he satisfied himself with giving the company a dazzling smile, making an elaborate leg and drawling, “Good evening, gentlemen.”
There were one or two murmurs and someone gave ahrrumphbefore the diners returned to their meals, pointedly ignoring him. Amused, Lindsay turned his attention back to the footman who’d been instructed to take him to his table.
“If you’d follow me, sir,” the man said quietly.
The table he led Lindsay to was in the gloomiest corner of the room.
“Fetch another candle, would you?” Lindsay said as he settled himself down in the chair facing the door through which he’d entered. “I won’t be able to see my own dinner at this rate.”
“Very good, sir.”
The footman was back quickly. “I’ll bring your guest directly he arrives, sir,” he said, setting the candlestick on the table. “May I fetch you some wine in the meantime?”
“Indeed you may,” Lindsay smiled at him. “What do you recommend?”
“We’ve just had a delivery of an excellent new Bordeaux, if that is to your taste?”
Lindsay nodded. “That will do very well. Thank you.”
The servant bowed and moved away, leaving Lindsay with nothing to do but look about the room till Drew Nicol deigned to appear.
The other diners were doing their best to ignore him, though he caught one or two of them glancing at him surreptitiously and whispering to their neighbours about who he might be. Of course, his mere appearance would be stoking their curiosity. Dalkeiths had a small and exclusive membership of politicians, judges, wealthy landowners and the like—of course they would be wondering who the flamboyantly dressed stranger amongst them was, and how he had gained entry.
At length the footman returned with a decanter of wine and two glasses.
“I took the liberty of bringing an extra glass for your guest, sir,” he said as he set them down on the table, one in front of each place setting.
“Thank you.” Lindsay watched him pour the ruby liquid into one glass, leaving the second glass empty. He listened idly as the man ran through the various dishes being served by the kitchen that evening, remarking that it all sounded delicious but that he planned to wait till his guest arrived before ordering anything.
It was a full quarter hour before the same footman appeared again, this time—finally—with Drew Nicol in tow. Lindsay spied them as soon as they appeared in the doorway. His gut twisted at the sight of Nicol, though he made sure to give no sign, merely leaning back in his chair and letting one side of his mouth hitch slowly upwards.
Nicol was dressed much like the other patrons, in a severely cut dark suit. Unlike the other patrons, though, he did not merge into the gloom. His masculine beauty was far too striking to miss, and with his fair hair gleaming bright in the candlelight, he drew every eye in the room.
A moment passed before Nicol spotted Lindsay in his shadowy corner, and if Lindsay had hoped to elicit a smile, he was disappointed. The sight of him did not appear to please Nicol much at all. If anything, his faint frown deepened fractionally before he waved the footman away and began to move towards Lindsay.
Did the man ever smile?
When Nicol reached the table, Lindsay said, without rising from his chair, “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.” He hoped Nicol could not detect how much his delicious scent affected Lindsay.
“I very nearly didn’t come,” Nicol replied bluntly. “And to be frank, I’m not yet convinced it’s a good thing that I’m here.”
Lindsay grinned at his frankness. “Of course it’s a good thing,” he said, “Now, sit down, won’t you? You’re giving me the most dreadful crick in my neck.”
Nicol raised a brow, but he sat as he was bid and allowed Lindsay to pour him a glass of wine without further protest.
“We’ll have an excellent dinner,” Lindsay said, “with some excellent wine and—I hope—some excellent conversation. What more could a gentleman want?”
Nicol sipped the Bordeaux. “Well, the wine is excellent, at least,” he said dryly. “We’ll see about the rest.”
Lindsay laughed. “You really do have a shocking lack of charm, Mr. Nicol. I have no idea why I like you so well.”
