Lucas endeavored to pay attention to the ebullient Miss Stanley’s recounting of her sister’s recent nuptials and the list of those in attendance. Yet his thoughts raced.
At one point MissBrannon glanced his way across the broad dining table. In the midst of lively chatter and laughter, the spark of recognition flared between them.
Then the guest to her left said something to her, and the thread that connected them for that brief, magnetizing second snapped.
In that singular moment his entire purpose for being at the house party intensified.
She was competition.
There could be no way around it.
***
Every aspect of the first dinner at the Cloverton house party competed for Olivia’s attention. The matching pewter octagonal bowls on either side of the carved marble fireplace—decidedly Persian. The ancient painted Chinese screen depicting cranes and exotic fish adorning the opposite wall. The very table she was sitting at, with its teak inlay and intricate carvings along the edges. The elegant women clad in shimmering gossamer and Brussels lace, with jewels strung about their necks, strands of gold thread sewn into the very fabric of their gowns, and fresh flowers tucked into their hair.
Never had her senses experienced such an onslaught of so many new and interesting things. And yet she was equally aware of the inquisitive glances toward her. Miss Wainbridge had been right;Olivia’s very presence was a novelty to this group—a newcomer who may or may not have the power to disrupt the social balance.
Olivia straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, assessing the other guests with a fresh eye. Every single one of them possessed a self-assuredness and confidence that both struck her and reminded her of visiting clients with her father.
Now, although it was a mere charade, she was on the other side of the interaction.
New rules. New etiquette. New everything. She would do the only thing she really could do at the moment, and that was to appear completely in control and entirely at ease. Wasn’t that what offering opinions and advice in a man’s business had taught her? For her whole life people had made assumptions about her and her abilities, and each time it made her want to prove herself even more.
Yet one thing was preventing her from giving in to her new role completely.
Lucas Avery.
She’d noticed him watching her.
Olivia glanced to her left at Mrs.Milton. This situation would perhaps be easier if the woman acting as her chaperone would at least communicate with her or show some form of solidarity, but the older woman had said very little since being seated in the dining room. Olivia had assumed, even hoped, that Mrs.Milton would warm to her once they’d arrived at Cloverton Hall, but the opposite seemed to be true.
Olivia recalled how her father’s disposition had changed after her mother had died. His once jovial demeanor morphed into amuch more somber, more cynical one, and with each year that followed, his pessimism intensified.
It couldn’t be easy for Mrs.Milton, coming into a home that had once belonged to her and seeing that changes were being made. Olivia had to remember that Mrs.Milton did not invite her on a holiday. She’d asked her to perform a task with very specific parameters. It was up to Olivia to manage her own emotions and fulfill the expectations that had been set before her.
As Olivia pushed the roasted partridge around her plate with her fork, she sensed the uncomfortable weight of someone’s attention on her. She glanced to her right to see Mr.Fielding’s red-rimmed eyes fixed on her. A smirk curved his thin lips into an expression that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
He had an uncommonly narrow face, a pointed nose, and a small mouth that seemed very much like a weasel’s. She’d been introduced to him only minutes before they entered the dining room, and now she’d have to endure the entire dinner by his side.
“Lost in thought, are you, MissBrannon?”
“No, no.” She smiled, masking her reaction to the strong scent of wine lacing his breath. “Just admiring the decor.”
“Ah yes, it is interesting, is it not?” He did little to hide his assessment as he looked around the dining room. “A bit eccentric for my taste, but I’m told the former master was quite extreme in his passions.”
Olivia stiffened at the words, refusing to look in Mrs.Milton’s direction and hoping she’d not overheard the comment. “Are you from London, Mr.Fielding?”
“No, heavens, no. I’m from Derbyshire, but I do spend a great deal of time in London. Did I not hear Wainbridge say that is where you call home?”
“It is.”
“I adore London,” he exclaimed before indulging in a noisy swig of claret. “I was there not three weeks ago. A fabulous outing. I don’t recall seeing you at any events, though. I’m sure I’d have remembered.”
The unmasked flirtation in his tone unsettled her. She lowered her fork and tapped her napkin against her lip, attempting to ignore the tone behind the words. “No, indeed you would not have seen me. I may live in London but fear I’m not in society much.”
He emphatically clicked his tongue. “A true pity. At least for the next couple of days, however, we shall have to make up for lost time.”
Heat crept up her neck as the innuendo hit home. Russell’s words came to her.“They are not like us. They operate under a different set of rules. Nothing will be as you know it.”
