Cordelia popped a berry tart into her mouth. “We did not imagine it. He looks at you as though he cannot decide whether to kiss you or run away.”
Matilda nodded gravely. “Which is promising.”
Hazel stared at her. “Promising? He may actually run away.”
“Yes,” Matilda said serenely. “But only because he is overwhelmed, not uninterested.”
Evelyn squeezed Hazel’s hand. “You do not have to rush anything. But you also should not deny what you feel.”
Hazel inhaled shakily.
Cordelia reached across the table and tapped Hazel’s teacup with her spoon. “Whether you like it or not, you care about him. And he cares about you. We are merely waiting for the two of you to realize it.”
Hazel hid her face in her hands as her friends burst into affectionate laughter.
“Oh, you are all dreadful,” she mumbled through her fingers.
Evelyn brushed a curl from Hazel’s cheek. “We are. But we are right.”
Hazel peeked out, with her cheeks pink. “I do not want my heart broken,” she whispered.
Matilda reached over and gently took Hazel’s other hand. “Hazel, darling… I think he is far more likely to break his own than yours.”
Hazel’s breath caught.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder if maybe she was not the only one whose heart was beginning to change.
Greyson laid down his cards with the mechanical precision of a man performing a task he was not remotely present for. Across the table at the Callbury Club, Jasper grinned like a fox who had found his way into an unguarded henhouse.
“My dear Callbury,” Jasper said, tapping Greyson’s utterly dismal hand with one long finger, “if your plan tonight was to fund my new stables, do let me express my deepest gratitude.”
Greyson blinked, dragging his gaze upward. “What?”
Jasper laughed outright. “You are losing. Horribly, spectacularly and in ways that should not be possible for a sober man with functioning vision.”
Greyson looked at his cards. He was indeed losing, quite tragically. But somehow, he could not remember when the game had started. All he could think about was how he wanted to do something for his wife, a small gesture of kindness.
Jasper tossed another card onto the pile. “Are you going to play, or shall I simply declare myself the victor and send for champagne?”
Greyson hesitated.
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “You have not heard a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes, have you?”
Greyson opened his mouth, then closed it.
Jasper leaned forward with predatory delight. “Oh ho. This is interesting. Shall I guess what has captured the formidable Duke of Callbury’s undivided attention?”
Greyson scowled. “Do not.”
“Could it be his lovely new wife?”
Greyson stiffened.
Jasper slapped a hand to his chest. “Itishis lovely new wife! Saints preserve us, I knew it. The Duke is distracted. By his Duchess! Alert the newspapers!”
Greyson glared at him, which Jasper appeared to accept as the confirmation it was.
“For heaven’s sake,” Greyson muttered, “must you be so insufferable?”
