Damon Viceroy knew how to compliment a woman. Mama had giggled like a schoolgirl at nearly everything he said during the meal,lowering her lashes with a soft, rosy flush creeping up her neck. There was also the mild stammering when Lord Damon looked directly at her, as if Mama might call for smelling salts at any moment.
Papa wasn’t fooled. He laughed at every jest or humorous tale, but the calculating look directed at Roxboro’s uncle never wavered. Lord Canterbell wielded a great deal of influence in Parliament because he wasn’t stupid.
Lord Damon reminded Sophia of a crocodile, especially when he smiled. The flat, flinty gaze. The perfect row of teeth ready to sink into his prey. Not that she’d ever seen a crocodile, only an artist’s rendering in a book.Lord Black and the Pirates of Ruin, one of her favorites. She’d read it three times. The heroine is saved from a crocodile whose resemblance to Lord Damon was uncanny.
“I’ll relay your compliments to our cook, Mrs. Cotton,” Mama said, ever the ideal hostess. “She is responsible for the duck, my lord, not I.” Pressing a palm to the base of her throat, she said, “I merely wrote out the menu.”
“Then you are responsible for pairing such delicious potatoes with this exquisite sauce. I think you far too modest, my lady. You contributed as much to the meal as Mrs. Cotton.”
Sophia struggled keep from making a face.
“It is a shame that Lady Violet and Lady Rose could not join us this evening,” Mama said, so unsettled by Lord Damon’s compliments, she nearly dropped her fork. “And of course, Lady Falworth.”
“A pity. But Lady Falworth was most insistent that their plans could not be altered. I understand doing so would have played havoc with the seating charts at the Dunkirk house party.
“I can well understand,” Mama agreed.
“But Lady Falworth promises to return well before the wedding. Tomorrow evening, as it happens.” Lord Damon dabbed at his lips with a napkin, dark eyes glittering like black ice as they passed over Sophia.
“How delightful. We shall look forward to becoming better acquainted after, won’t we?” She nodded at both Sophia and Mara.
“Indeed,” Lord Damon said. “I hope you don’t mind I did add two last minute guests to the wedding, my lady. The widow of a dear friend and her son who I hadn’t thought would be in London. Lord Caster and Roxboro grew up together, and I’ve known the Dowager Marchioness for ages. She’s close friends with Lady Falworth.”
“The Marquess of Caster?” Mama beamed at him. “Of course not.”
Mama had set her sights on Caster some time ago for Mara, deeming him eminently suitable for her daughter. Honestly, if Lord Damon had asked Mama to toss Papa in the Thames right now to gain more influence with Caster, she would have.
“You are too kind, my lady.” Lord Damon said. “And I am deeply,” he stressed the word, making Mama blush even further. “Appreciative. Especially on such short notice.”
“It would be our great pleasure,” Mama glanced at Papa. “And they must join us for the wedding breakfast as well, given that His Grace and Caster are so close.”
The wedding breakfast had been deemed for family only.
Papa made a grunt and took a sip of his wine. “Yes, we insist.”
Roxboro said nothing, neither confirming nor denying whether he and Caster were even acquainted, let alone great friends. Her future husband was most usually mentioned in the gossip columns in conjunction with Lord Oakhurst, along with a string of titled ladies. But never Caster.
Clever Lord Damon. He’d found a way to put Mama in his debt.
I find I dislike Roxboro’s uncle even more, though I admire his strategy.
“Lady Falworth will be so pleased,” Lord Damon continued. “As will Violet and Rose. I do wish my May was here to celebrate the occasion with us, but I think,” a mournful look crossed his features. “She will be there, watching over us all.”
“I met her once, my lord.” Mama’s features were contorted insympathy. “A lovely woman of great modesty. Well-regarded by everyone in London.”
“Here, here, Uncle.” Roxboro lifted his glass. “To Aunt May.”
“She spoiled you.” The side of Damon’s mouth lifted to a half-smile as he addressed Roxboro. “May was a rare gem. Impossible to replace.”
“You’re still young, uncle.” Roxboro sipped from his glass.
“Indeed, my lord,” Papa intoned from the head of the table. “Given your aspirations, an astute woman versed in politics would be a great asset. I agree with the duke. I would never have gotten far without Lady Canterbell at my side.”
Mamaglowed.As if lit from within by the sun. She’d been complimented by Lord Damon and Papa, then given the immense opportunity of ingratiating herself with not only Lady Falmouth, but also Lady Caster, whose son she wanted for Mara. She wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.
“The idea has merit, my lord,” Damon murmured. “Perhaps when the time is right, Lady Canterbell might introduce me to a lady who matches her own skill and capabilities. I would accept nothing less.” Those dark, calculating eyes lingered over Mara.
Mama nearly melted into the table.
