Or Robert’s, for that matter.
Robert—my uncle, my mother’s oldest brother and the Duke of Hartsworth—shared a place in both mine and my father’s hearts as least favorite relative.
“Must you take that tone in front of aguest?” Mother asked, making it clear that when she saidguest, she meantoutsider.
I took Andy’s hand, linking our fingers together between our place settings.
“I thought he wasn’t a guest,” Father said. “I since he wasn’t welcome in the front parlor.”
Mother glared at him.
Father took another slice of toast and the jar of marmalade from the middle of the table. “Can I offer you some of this marmalade, Andy?” he asked. “Kit never developed a taste for it, but I suspect your palate to be somewhat more adventurous.”
Andy shrugged. “Guess I’ll try anything once.”
Father smiled to himself as he spread the slice of toast liberally with marmalade, cutting it in half and passing it across the table to Andy, making Mother roll her eyes again.
Andy took a curious bite, hummed, and ate the rest of the half slice without a pause, licking his sticky fingers clean when he was done.
Father was right, I had no particular affection for the taste of marmalade.
But I did wonder if I might like it rather more if I were licking it off Andy’s tongue.
“You like it!” Father said, delighted.
“I do,” Andy agreed.
“You see, I knew you’d have excellent taste,” Father said. “Because you like Kit.”
I blushed at the compliment, the back of my neck itching, but the way Andy squeezed my fingers made my heart sing.
“He’s a lot sweeter than the marmalade,” Andy said.
“You see?” Father said. “Excellent taste.”
“Yeah, well, I would have, wouldn’t I?” Andy said. “Because Kit picked me.”
Happiness welled up in my chest like bubbles in a glass of champagne.
I’d been dreading tonight’s party, but perhaps with Andy there, it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps if everyone I’d once known got to see me happy with someone who liked me—even if he was faking it—things would be all right.
