The breakfast room was crowded when I stepped inside.
The air smelled of eggs and ham. My stomach grumbled. The sideboard was covered in pyramids of various fruits as well—nectarines, peaches, berries, and grapes. As I walked closer, I saw several tartlets, loaves of French bread, brioche, honey cake, and plum cake, all surrounded by an array of spreads and marmalades. Pots of hot chocolate, tea, and lemonade finished the display. After the elaborate meal that had been served the night before, I shouldn’t have expected anything less. I gaped at the assortment. I hardly knew where to begin.
In addition to one long table, another round table had been brought in to accommodate the many guests. In total, there were fifteen chairs, with Lady Tottenham at the head. I thought of the guests she had invited. Seven men, seven women. It all made sense. Birch House was a chess board. We were Lady Tottenhams pawns, bishops, knights, and rooks, and she hoped to spend the next month moving us strategically as she pleased.
She glanced up as I entered the room. Her hair was piled atop her head in tight curls. Pins with gems and pearls were nestled throughout, along with a plume of feathers. Her dress was a vibrant pink.
I had captured her attention the night before. That was not a good position to be in.
Hers was not the worst attention I had captured, though.
Lord Kirkham’s eyes followed me toward the sideboard. He missed his bite of ham. It fell from his fork onto his plate.
I filled my plate with a small bit of everything before turning back to the tables. There were several seats available at the long table, but the round one was more appealing since that’s where Lord Kirkham wasnot.
I took one step, then halted. Alexander was at the round table.
Still, it was the better option. Lady TottenhamandLord Kirkham were a worse combination.
Mr. Amesbury swooped in and took a chair at the round table, leaving just one available seat directly beside Alexander. I stayed firm on my decision, making my way to the table. There was no reason we couldn’t be cordial. He was potentially my future brother-in-law, after all, though I had no intention of telling him that.
He didn’t seem to recognize me. I was under the cover of my married name. If he had paid attention in his childhood to my family or me at all, he would have known me as Anne, or Miss Dixon—not Lady Daventry.
I set my plate down beside him, sweeping gracefully into my chair. “Good morning,” I said, more to my plum cake than to anyone at the table.
“Good morning, my lady.”
A spatter of grape juice hit me in the face.
Alexander raised the grape he had just speared with a fork. His dark waves were more tame today. His teasing smile was not. “I thought you would have chosen a seat by a certain viscount.”
I wiped firmly at the juice on my cheek, throwing him a scowl. “I would like to avoid him at all costs, actually.” I spoke in a quiet voice, glancing at the others at the table. A pretty young lady, Miss Octavia Colborne, was seated between Mr. Amesbury and a man named Mr. Hatcher. They were engaged in their own conversation.
“That didn’t seem to be your intention last night,” Alexander said around a chuckle.
My jaw tightened, and I bit too harshly into my plum cake. I took my time chewing and swallowing before addressing him again. “I was trying to avoid the alternative.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
He took a sip from his teacup, brows drawing together. A man like him must have been unaccustomed to rejection from women. I hated to compliment him, even in my mind, but he was obviously the most handsome man of the party. Seeing him in the daylight, with his sharp jawline and intense brown eyes, I was even more baffled at how he was Miles’s relation. Miles had light brown hair and blue eyes.
Alexander sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Is it because he’s a lord?”
“What?”
He lowered his voice. “Did you choose him because he’s a lord?”
I sighed. “Please forget what occurred yesterday. I’m trying to forget it myself.”
“Well, I’m trying to understand what compelled you to kiss him instead of me. He’s a great deal older than you.”
“Well,youare younger than me.”
His brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”
I shook my head fast, realizing my mistake. “I assumed.” The difference between our ages was only one year—not noticeable enough to be assumed in most instances.
