At least Miranda appeared surprised, a curious look crossing her face as she glanced toward Mr. Grey.
For such an intimidating man, Mr. Grey’s eyes were extraordinarily kind. Even his deep voice softened as he spoke. Unlike Lord Grump, who veritably growled. “Are you enjoying Hartridge House, Miss Weatherby?”
How to answer? Lovely as it was, the estate should have enthralled her, but memories of her embarrassing one-sidedattachment to Mr. Merrick—that is, the Duke of Burwood—were everywhere. She’d made such a ninny of herself that summer four years ago. Hopefully, neither Burwood nor Honoria had informed Mr. Grey about the incident. “My family and I only arrived early this afternoon, but I expect it will be a pleasant stay.”If I can avoid His Dourship, that is.
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Grey leaned down toward her, which from his height was quite a distance. “Who isHis Dourship? Surely not my cousin or Mr. Beckham. Both are most congenial fellows.”
Anne’s hand flew to her mouth. Did she say that aloud? Her cheeks heated. “Please forget I said that.”
“Said what?” Mr. Grey grinned and returned his attention ahead of them as he led her into the dining room.
As luck would have it—bad luck that is—Mr. Grey led her to a chair next to Lord Manning.
His Grumpiness gave a slight nod but remained standing while she took her seat. “Miss Weatherby.”
“Lord Manning.” She hoped the icy tone of her words would keep his wine chilled all through supper.
Fortunately, once the first course was served, seated on her other side, Mr. Grey kept her occupied, and she tried not to think about the other man next to her. Even if he did smell so wonderful he made her mouth water. Well, it could have been the food, but turtle soup wasn’t Anne’s favorite, and none of the food smelled like shaving soap and citrusy bergamot. Clean and fresh. She leaned toward Mr. Grey and surreptitiously sniffed. Sandalwood and leather. Nice, but to her dismay, not as heavenly as Lord Grump’s scent.
I will not think about Lord Grumpy-Trousers.
Mr. Grey’s stifled chuckle informed her she’d done it again. She darted a glance toward the grump.
A hint of annoyance pinched the corners of her nemesis’s mouth. “Lady Miranda, do you ride? Perhaps you and I could take a tour about Burwood’s estate on the morrow. Chaperoned, of course.”
Mr. Grey’s chuckle immediately ceased.
Interesting.
“Or perhaps,” the odious man who smelled so divine continued, “Burwood might host a fox hunt.”
Everyone stilled. In the middle of taking a sip of his wine, Burwood choked then quickly blotted his mouth with his serviette. Spoons paused halfway to people’s lips. Eyes widened, and heads turned in Anne’s direction.
Lord Grump set down his glass of wine. “Did I say something offensive?”
Mr. Grey leaned down and whispered, “Why is everyone looking at you, Miss Weatherby?”
Leave it to Lord Dismal to bring up fox hunts and remind everyone of her horrible accident leading to her false presumptions regarding Burwood’s affection.
Andrew cleared his throat. “As long as Anne doesn’t participate.”
Strained laughter rose from Burwood, Mr. Beckham, and Mr. Pratt. Honoria sent Anne an apologetic glance before returning her attention to her soup.
That should have put an end to things. But oh no. Lord Grump had to pursue it. “Don’t you ride, Miss Weatherby?”
Anne squared her shoulders—which was a mistake because, in the process, she accidentally brushed against Lord Grump’s arm. “I’m an excellent rider, thank you.”
“Then I don’t understand. Do you find fox hunting objectionable?” Why would he not let the subject lie?
Heat rushed up her neck, flaming her cheeks. “No.”
“Anne had a horrible fall from her horse during the hunt Drake held four years ago. She took a terrible blow to the head,” Honoria said, sending Anne another apologetic look. “We were all so concerned for her welfare.”
Somehow, Anne found the way Lord Grump’s eyebrows drew down over his lovely green eyes rather endearing, as if he were concerned about her well-being.
However, his next question put that silly notion to rest. “Then why werepeople laughing?”
Pink blossomed on Honoria’s cheeks. “I’ll explain later, Colin.”
