By everyone, he surely meant the people who had disbursed with the Rosehill party, Lady James and Mr. Parker, and the other gawkers.
“There was an incident with the lemonade.”
“Who did you accost this time?” His tone was unreadable, but the slash of his mouth was quirked infinitesimally higher on the right side.
“Alas, the ballroom was bereft of surly viscounts to dampen. I left the honor to Lady James, and she chose a duchess instead.”
“Lady James? Would not have thought it of her.” And just like that the high of the evening rushed out of me again. The implied “it was entirely expected of you,” remained unsaid.
“Yes, well… Did you and your brothers enjoy yourselves with the scotch?”
“More or less, Michael had a… favor to ask, and we had to borrow one of your guests.”
“Borrow? Which one?” I asked, scanning the room for missing persons.
“Westfield.”
“Oh, that was a favor,” I said, relieved. “I should have realized when I didn’t spend the entire evening shepherding him away from the debutantes.”
“Good, I was worried you would be a bit peeved.”
“Not about that.”Just about everything else.
“You did well, Katherine. It seems the evening was a success.” That would have warmed me, pleased me, if I thought he cared even the slightest bit about the success of the evening.
I merely nodded and left him to interpret my meaning.
With that the set came to a close, Aunt Prudence left with a kiss on my cheek. Agatha wandered to bed with another megrim and the night was done.
Nothing left but a mess to clean up.
Twenty-Four
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON - MARCH 5, 1814
HUGH
Dreams of jasmine-scented curls,tantalizing waists, and emerald silk gave way to a pounding headache and slight nausea—too much of the good scotch. I ordered my tea while still abed, an unusual practice for me. But the thought of the bright, unforgiving breakfast room was too much to stomach. My ginger tea went down unbearably slowly, and every sip was a risk. Memories of the night before came back in hazy fits and starts.
My shoulder twinged—that was from hauling Westfield. I had a vague notion of coercing the man from the billiard room with the promise of inappropriately young, female flesh then dragging him bodily to the library for Michael. He was heavier than he looked, and his weight was uneven, centered low. Hopefully, Michael had not left bloodstains in the library.
Did Michael have a blackened eye again? Tom brought ledgers with him? That felt right, but the why and their contents remained just out of reach, foggy and unwieldy.
Then there was Katherine, nothing about her memory was vague or nebulous. That green satin was nearly as tempting as the red. It caressed her curves the way I wished I could.
Our marital encounters had not allowed for that but… some day. She was warm and floral scented in my arms. Dark curls trying to escape a matching green ribbon without success, I knew from experience they were softer than the finest of silks. The jade of her gown had shone in her eyes, more green than blue last night. Still, they were bright and large as always, and framed with impossibly dark lashes that cast shadows on her alabaster skin, which was flushed with excitement. Her wide, sensuous lips had been bitten to a darker rose than usual.
From my vantage point several inches above her head, I had been able to see straight down the top of her gown. I was a lecherous cretin for looking, but oh, was it worth it. Her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath, enticing, distracting. She had been delicate in my arms, following the press of my hands with ease and grace.
We had enjoyed a brief moment of flirtation, a hint of something more. Then she shut down once again. It seemed to occur with frightening regularity. Every time we took a step forward, we took two back, and she began discussing cucumber sandwiches or some other nonsense. I could brush last night off as nerves, but the time before? And the one before that? Something was there, in front of me, just out of reach.
* * *
Eventually the needfor food outweighed the potential revolt my digestive system was staging. Unfortunately, the coup nearly began when I rounded the corner to the breakfast room to see Katherine and Michael, heads bent toward each other, giggling.
With a pointed cough, I shut down their merriment and they turned toward me in unison. It was Michael who broke the silence. “Good morning, Hugh. Too much of the good scotch last evening?”
In lieu of a response, I made my way over to the sideboard and began to pile a plate high with food I had no intention of eating. Chances were, the best I would manage was dry toast, but that did not stop me. What point I was making with that display and accompanying grunt was anyone’s guess.
