He nodded to the door. “We should join the company for dinner before it is noticed we are late.”
“You are right. I have no desire to earn a reprimand from the marchioness.”
Beck checked the hallway. It was empty, but he could hear voices drift up the stairways. That meant the other guests had left the reception hall. “Come,” he said.
Gwendolyn nodded and followed him out the door. As they walked, she had to finish her thoughts on Lord Ellisfield. “I do give his lordship credit that he realizes he has advantages others do not have.”
Beck grunted a response. He didn’t like Ellisfield—not if Gwendolyn was going to defend him.
By the time they reached the ground floor, the main hall was empty. Sounds of conversations and chairs being scooted across the parquet could be heard from the dining room.
The butler stood by the dining room door, apparently watching for stragglers. “Mr. Curran? Miss Lanscarr?”
They hurried toward him.
“Please come with me. We are ready to serve.” The butler didn’t wait but led the way, assuming their compliance.
In the paneled cavern of a dining room, the longest table Beck had ever seen had a setting foreveryone. All forty to fifty-some guests. Many were neighbors who would not be spending the night. However, they would be taking part in the activities.
Beck couldn’t help but be impressed. The linens were white. The glassware sparkled under the candlelight. The silver was heavy and expensive. Some of the female guests wore colorful ostrich plumes in their hair as they would in London. Lady Orpington’s onyx jewels reflected the light. Magpie was not there, Beck noticed... although he wouldn’t be surprised if she was under the table.
Everyone stood behind their chairs, waiting for the nod from their hostess to be seated. A footman was in position behind each guest to help pull out chairs and to cater to their individual needs.
Lady Middlebury remarked upon his and Gwendolyn’s tardiness as they took their places. “Ah, the last of the guests.” She addressed the butler. “Now all we need, Nathaniel, is my lord, and we may begin.” The butler went off to search for his master.
Beck noticed that Ellisfield was seated close to the head of the table where his mother and Miss Purley would sit. The marchioness obviously hoped for a match between her son and the wealthy banker’s daughter. So Beck did receive a bit of satisfaction when Miss Purley sent a welcoming smile in his direction. Ellisfield appeared not to notice. Instead, his lordship’s gaze wandered down the table to whereGwendolyn stood between the admiral and the local rector. Beck couldn’t remember his name. However, both men were aged and, he was certain, boring. He couldn’t have chosen better companions for her. As for himself, he was across from Violet. Her husband was located near Ellisfield.
Gwendolyn was right. From the seating arrangements alone, he deduced Lady Middlebury knew he wasn’t Nicholas Curran.
On Beck’s left was a giggling Lady Julia, and a very interested Lady Beth was at his right. They greeted him eagerly, ready to flirt, while Violet sent him heartfelt, searching looks as if yearning for a sign that his affection for her had never died. He wasn’t interested in any of them. No, his interests lay in the woman he should leave alone if he truly cared for her... Gwendolyn.
He shifted to look down the table at her. She appeared to listen intently to the admiral, her expression one of interest. And of grace... with the candlelight giving her cheeks a golden glow and the shadows highlighting her expressive brows, the line of her lips, the curve of her neck... and the curve of her breasts...
Beck wasn’t one given to the nuances of a person. A woman attracted him, or she didn’t. A situation benefitted him, or it didn’t. Life was as it was.
But with Gwendolyn, he noted all the subtleties. He heard the sound of her voice in his head, her earnest suggestions, her retorts when she felthe didn’t value her... but hedidvalue her. He trusted her.
The room around him buzzed with the conversation of guests introducing themselves and making small talk while they waited for a sign from their hosts. Gwendolyn glanced his way as if she sensed he watched her. Her lovely lips twisted in a rueful smile, and it was as if she knew he was happy her dinner partners were not Ellisfield, but old men. He raised his brows in a show of mock sympathy, and her smile widened to one more genuine, just as he anticipated.
And in that moment, something hard around his heart cracked.
It was a strange sensation. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed himself off. He’d thought he was fine, that he was good on his own.
Had he sealed himself off after Violet’s betrayal, as Jem had suggested?
Or had he always been that way—a child rejected by a mother who hadn’t wanted him and a father who had minimally acknowledged him?
He wasn’t certain. He had never been one for deep introspection, until now. Until Gwendolyn.
And losing her, because he must let her go eventually, would be crushing. But he would manage. Didn’t he always manage...?
Violet said something to him. He smiled without bothering to understand what she said—
“The Marquess of Middlebury,” the butler declared, his voice carrying over the conversation that came to an abrupt halt.
All turned toward the door.
Beck would have to look behind him. His thoughts had been so occupied with his quest for the singing woman—and with Gwendolyn—he’d not had a moment to ruminate on coming face-to-face with his sire for the first time. Perhaps purposefully? He now prepared himself. He was no longer a boy with childish dreams of a parent. He hadn’t needed the marquess then; he didn’t need him now.
