“I’m here simply to escort my great-aunts back home.” He gave a partial bow.
“Lucinda, the gentlemen await in the entry. Your maid is waiting to accompany you,” her father barked as he entered the parlor. “Please see to them before they come to bother me.”
She turned to Mr. Copeland.
“Enjoy your outing,” he offered politely, much to her disappointment. After the way that he’d kissed her, she’d hoped that he’d decide to accompany her.
“Yes, well, I’m certain some of them will.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched from the room.
* * *
If it were justLady Lucinda and her maid, Caleb would have gladly joined her. But upon seeing her lords gathered and waiting, he was reminded that he was not at Forester Hall for the same purpose as the others.
Why had he kissed her? It didn’t matter that she’d first kissed him, but he shouldn’t have pulled her close and kissed her again, properly, the way a lady should be kissed. It was something that would haunt him, and he would have been better off not knowing the feel of her lips, the hint of mint on her breath, or the way her breasts felt pressed against his chest. The way she molded her body to his was near perfection, and she’d never be his.
“If that will be all.” Caleb started to leave.
“No, that will not be all,” Her Grace ordered.
He swallowed as his throat tightened. Had he offended somehow? Nobody should know about the kiss and it was Lady Lucinda who sought him out.
“You are a guest, Mr. Copeland,” she began. “Yet, you behave as a servant.”
“I’m simply being of assistance during my stay in your home.”
At the close of the front door, His Grace strode further into the parlor. “Thank God the lot of them are gone and I can freely move about in my own home without tripping over one of them hoping for an audience.” His Grace marched to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. He then glanced at Caleb and poured another. “Join us.”
With reluctance, Caleb accepted the glass, uncertain what to expect.
“I do thank you for chopping wood, milking cows, mucking stalls, hunting and fishing.”
Caleb blinked at him.
“I may avoid my guests, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what is occurring on my estate.”
Caleb resisted the urge to pull at his cravat. Had the butler gone to His Grace and warned him that Caleb had taken liberties?
His Grace settled into a winged back chair and gestured to another. “Please sit.”
“Thank you,” Caleb mumbled and prepared to be taken to task.
“What is your opinion of the remaining gentlemen?”
That was not a question Caleb was expecting. “I’ve no opinion.”
His Grace snorted. “I’m certain that you do but are too polite to speak ill of them.”
“It is not my place to have an opinion, Your Grace.”
He studied Caleb. “I am making it your place.”
Caleb drew back.
“It’s clear you have no interest in my daughter or you would have joined the others instead of keeping busy in other areas of the estate, therefore I trust that your judgement will not be biased.”
He wanted to argue that his interest was deep, but knew it was best to keep his secrets to himself.
