As Derrick entered the dining hall with Barber at his side, he drew in a long breath. It was a lavish room, beautifully appointed, with fine bone china and sterling silver utensils at each place. Other guests were already settling in at their seats, which were labeled by a sophisticated, swirling hand.
“Here I am,” Barber said, pointing to a seat. “Mr. E. Barber. Ah, and I’m next to the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield. I met her earlier in the garden. She is a lovely woman.”
Derrick nodded. “Wonderful,” he murmured. “Then you’ll be happy. God knows who I’ll be placed by. Excuse me as I continue to look.”
He left Barber to settle in, pleased as could be about his seatmates. Derrick looked along the seats, passing each name by until he came to the opposite side of the table. And there he was, Mr. D. Huntington. He glanced at the surrounding names. One was Mr. Grimes, a third son of an earl. A very good thing, as Derrick wanted to get to know the man a bit better. Grimes had access to Society due to his father and brother. There were some small rumors about a financial issue. He fit the bill for the Fox.
But before he could formulate a plan to deal with the man, he noticed the name on the other side: Miss S. Oliver.
He blinked and looked up just in time to see the lady approaching, a wide, almost triumphant smile curving those luscious lips.
“Mr. Huntington,” she declared as she reached him. She gave him a pointed look, then glanced at her chair. He blinked and then pulled it back to allow her to sit. “Fancy meeting you here,” she finished.
He eased into his place and reached for his napkin. As he placed it in his lap, he made note of that wicked twinkle in her eyes. The one that seemed to tug directly on his cock. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Of all the table placements in all the country…”
She laughed, then glanced up in thanks at the footman who was pouring her a glass of madeira. Once Derrick had his own, she tilted hers toward him. “Then let us toast to the seating chart.”
He had no choice but to do so. Their glasses clinked and they both sipped their wine.
She set her glass back on the table. “Perhaps it wasn’t accidental, though.”
“No?” he said, nodding to Mr. Grimes as he took his place. “Good evening.”
Grimes sniffed toward him and grunted, “Good evening.” He immediately put his attention to the lady on his right.
Derrick frowned before he let his attention drift back to Selina. “Why would we be placed together?”
She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t you know? I don’t belong here either.”
“You don’t think I belong here?” he said, watching her carefully. Although her expression wasn’t closed off, it didn’t reveal anything either.
“Iknowyou don’t,” she whispered, and winked at him.
He pondered pressing her, trying to determine if her statement was pure snobbery or something she thought she knew for certain, but this was not the place. If their conversation were overheard, it could damage the cover provided to him by Roseford’s invitation and the explanation behind it. Later, perhaps, if they were alone…
Although, looking at Selina Oliver, he did not think that being alone with her was a good idea. He generally avoided temptation. Losing control never led to anything good, at least not beyond a moment or two of pleasure. She was the kind of woman who snapped a man out of control with hardly a bat of her eyelashes.
“Very well, so you think me out of place,” he said softly. “But how can you be? You’re the sister of the duke, after all.”
That smile faltered just a fraction. Not enough that most people would have even noticed it. But he did. “Bastard sister,” she murmured.
He raised both eyebrows. “So direct.”
“You have no idea.” She sipped her wine, then arched her brow at him again. “But you aren’t, I don’t think.”
“Direct?” he asked. She nodded. “You don’t think so?”
He leaned closer despite the danger of it. He couldn’t help himself but to draw in a deep breath of her scent. Vanilla and cinnamon and sin. And goddamn but he wanted to…do things to her in that moment. He blinked at the inappropriate thoughts and forced himself to focus on his plate.
“I know so,” she whispered, that low, husky voice taunting him.
He gripped a hand on the tabletop and then gave her a tight smile. “If I have offended in some unknown way, Miss Oliver, I do apologize.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, but pivoted his attention to Mr. Grimes instead. Better for it, too. Men like Grimes were the reason he was at this party, after all. Not to flirt with Selina Oliver. Not to think about all the ways he could remove that gown, including with his teeth. Not to ponder all the swirling desires he normally kept controlled.
The rest of the supper passed without incident. Mr. Grimes did not provide any valuable information. In fact, he seemed determined to avoid direct conversation with Derrick as often as possible. Selina Oliver also avoided any further scandal with him. She spoke mostly to the woman on her opposite side, the Duchess of Crestwood.
But Derrick was not entirely iced out. The Duke of Crestwood was seated across from him and seemed a decent fellow. They’d had a fine enough conversation, though not exactly enlightening about any details Derrick could use in his pursuit of the Fox.
