“Hello, Lord Montson,” Beth says, her hand slipping from Gwen’s so she can dip into a pleasant curtsy.
Gwen follows suit, tugging discreetly at Beth’s skirt so she doesn’t get tangled up when she sits back down. Montson smiles at her and then looks at Beth, that smile blooming into a look of fondness that twists unpleasantly against Gwen’s gut. Her empty hands curl into fists in her skirts.
She shouldn’t be anything but happy for her friend, and yet she feels as if she’d like to stamp her feet in frustration. She doesn’t want to give up her moment with Beth just because Montson’s here. She wants to shout that Beth should stay at her table—tell Montson to sod off with his perfect hair and teeth and obvious wealth. Beth has books to discuss, with her.
Lady Demeroven exits the patisserie, looking harried, and spots Montson with their little group. Gwen notes the tightness in her jaw as she walks over. She feels herself getting jittery, anxious in her sudden desperation to find a reason to forestall Beth and Montson’s date.
Lady Demeroven curtsies. “Lord Montson, lovely to see you. I’m sorry to report there are no free tables available. I’ve ordered tea for you and Miss Demeroven, but—”
“They can join us,” Albie says, standing to greet Lady Demeroven formally. Gwen could kiss him. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. The Honorable Albert Mason, Lady Gwen’s cousin.”
“Charmed to meet you,” Lady Demeroven says, dipping in another shallow curtsy. “I’d hate for Miss Demeroven and Lord Montson to interrupt your tea,” she adds quickly.
Gwen opens her mouth, eager to explain just how much she’d like for Beth to keep interrupting—
“It will give us time to get reacquainted,” Montson says gamely. “It’s been at least a year, hasn’t it, Mason?”
“More,” Albie says with a little grin. “That boxing match, I believe, near Oxford?”
“Oh, that was a set, wasn’t it?” Montson returns, sliding into the seat beside Albie as Albie plops back down.
Gwen blows out a relieved breath. For once, she’s glad that men are so utterly predictable. She turns to see Lady Demeroven and Beth exchanging a series of pointed glances. Albie and Montson might be content, but Lady Demeroven seems hell-bent on keeping Beth’s date intact. Gwen bites at her cheek to keep from glowering at the woman, a possessive irritation clawing at her chest. They’ll suffer the intrusion of Montson, isn’t that enough? Do they really have to be parted too?
Gwen casts about, searching for another excuse. It would be far from ideal, but perhaps if Lady Demeroven could join them too, she could lose that sour look—
“I believe I can offer some assistance,” Father says, stepping up behind Lady Demeroven. Gwen chokes back a laugh. The woman’s hat hid him from view. “Lady Demeroven, would you join me for a spot of tea? Leave the children to their chat?”
Beth’s cheeks lift hopefully as Lady Demeroven considers it, looking apprehensively up at Father. Gwen finds she’s almost vibrating with anticipation, pleading silently with Lady Demeroven to just for once give in, even a little.
“If you really don’t mind,” Lady Demeroven says softly.
Gwen nearly deflates in relief. She grins over at Beth, bouncing on her toes. Beth beams back.
Father simply smiles at Lady Demeroven, winking—how cheeky.
“But let me at least buy tea,” Lady Demeroven says. “I did... injure you the last two times we saw each other.”
Father frowns. “Only the once.”
“The second time was a wound to your ego.”
Father puts a hand to his heart as Gwen stares, shocked, at Lady Demeroven’s little smirk. Father starts laughing and Gwen shifts her gaze to the pink on his cheeks and the full-bellied delight that pours forth. Dear Lord, he’s still smitten. She socked him in the jewels and insulted him, and he’s like a lovesick schoolboy even still.
Honestly, she can hardly blame him. Lady Demeroven’s blush is nearly as pretty as Beth’s. And if he’s as excited for an afternoon with Lady Demeroven as Gwen is with Beth, how could he not be just a bit dopey? Not that it’s the same, of course, but they are charming, these Demeroven women.
“My pride is more than intact. However, I’ll let you pay for tea if we get those Florentines you used to devour by the basketful,” Father says.
“They still make those?” Lady Demeroven asks, all hesitance forgotten.
“Mrs. Chutsky will, for me,” Father says with a little grin.
Lady Demeroven laughs. “All right. But we’re getting two sets then.”
“Glad to see your appetite hasn’t changed a bit.” He looks over their table, nodding to Albie and Montson. “We’ll sendyour biscuits to you when they come out. Enjoy your time, ladies. Boys, behave.”
“Thank you, Lord Havenfort,” Beth says, managing to find the words Gwen can’t seem to push out around her own eagerness and shock.
Father nods at her and then winks at Gwen before gently taking Lady Demeroven’s arm as both Albie and Montson salute him.
