Chapter Eight
The Madeira hadbrought a flush to Miss Jenner’s cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. She’d abandoned the slightly starchy manner she’d adopted since coming here, along with the mobcap. He fought a smile. She had Williams chuckling over something that occurred in the kitchen, which involved young Henry, the kitchen boy, and the plucking of poultry feathers. Dominic failed to follow the conversation. His attraction to her warred with his suspicions. Why had she gone out of her way to clean the steward’s office? Her explanation didn’t ring true. His initial thought that she had another reason for coming here resurfaced. But did it matter if she did her job well?
He put down a card.
Was she here to search for his uncle’s suspected secret cache of money? Although he knew little about her, he struggled to believe she would act unscrupulously. But he wouldn’t ask her about it. He was content to wait, hoping in time he would either discover her reason or she would confide in him. He preferred the latter.
The idea of valuables hidden somewhere seemed preposterous to him. He doubted the veracity of the story spread about by the community. People loved a mystery. And they loved to create one, he thought darkly, thinking of his recent past in London.
If he’d expected an evening spent in her company would cure him of his interest in her, it hadn’t. Watching Miss Jenner tonight only stirred a stronger interest in her and her past. She was obviously used to moving in social circles. Although shy at first, she was now at ease, amusing, and quite adept at whist. He’d made her banker, and having won the first of the three games, she detailed their scores in the book.
He’d played poorly and must give the next game his full attention, but again his gaze drifted back to her.
She would grace any ballroom in that gown. He enjoyed the intriguing glimpse of her breasts peeping above the lace, and how the simple lines of the skirts emphasized her tall, willowy figure. Just enough to make a man yearn to investigate the beguiling curves beneath, to touch and kiss.
He cleared his throat. He’d lost the thread of the last game. “You are an accomplished player, Miss Jenner.”
She looked up from examining the seven cards he’d dealt her. “Thank you. Whist was a favorite of my father and me.”
He stirred himself to discover more about her. “Squire Lancaster mentioned your father. He was the former squire of Northoaks?”
He regretted it immediately, for her eyes grew sad. “He was.”
“A fine property.”
“I haven’t seen it for some time. It certainly was when I lived there.” Her steady voice gave no clue to her feelings, but losing her father and her home obviously distressed her still.
Williams looked up from his hand. “Did you grow up at Northoaks, Miss Jenner?”
“Yes. I was born there. My mother came from Harrogate, my father’s family owned Northoaks for generations. You may have heard of my grandfather, Judge Alistair Jenner.”
She said his name proudly.
Dominic hid his surprise. “I heard the judge speak once in London. An orator of some note.”
“Is he still alive?” Williams’s voice was gentle as if he guessed the answer. Like Dominic, he had warmed to Miss Jenner and felt some sympathy for her.
“No. He died some years ago.”
Dominic found himself caught up in a way he hadn’t intended. “You have no living relatives?”
Her shoulders stiffened, the gesture barely discernable. “No.”
She was alone in the world. Careful not to reveal the compassion she aroused in him, he asked, “Did you ride to hounds when at Northoaks?”
“Oh, yes. I loved to jump and had an excellent mount, but I was never there at the kill. I am too soft-hearted, I’m afraid.”
“Not a bad thing for a lady to be,” Williams observed.
Dominic left the table to fetch a bottle of champagne chilling on the sideboard, having sent Jack to the kitchen for coffee. He needed a moment to clear his disorderly thoughts, which were filled with her—the dimple in her cheek when she smiled, and how her blue eyes would cloud with some sad memory. He was coming to know her. Her gentle sense of humor. Her practical nature and her kindness. Spending this evening with her offered a further glimpse into her character. What drove him? Curiosity? Or the urge to get closer? He drew in a breath. He’d been mad to bring her here.
Filling her glass, a rousing but highly inappropriate thought forced its way into his mind. What if they were alone together? Of course, he wanted to make love to her. Had done since he first saw her. But he wanted more. He felt some sympathy for her. It was certainly no fault of hers that she found herself in this coil. But it wasn’t sympathy that filled his thoughts when he thought of Miss Jenner.
He poured the champagne into the flutes, then sat to study the cards dealt him as the last game began. Williams having won the second. What a poor show he made of whist tonight. A smile tugged his lips. Dominic blamed Miss Jenner entirely.
He was in sore need of feminine company. That was the reason for it. He’d never gone this long without making love to a woman since the war, and even then there was a charming Spanish lady. After casting an eye around Lady Lowry’s garden party for someone ripe for a liaison, he’d quickly given away the idea. It would be unwise to conduct a discreet affair in such a small community, where he was the center of attention. And he had no wish to cement his reputation as a rake in people’s minds. Country people were more prudish than theton. And a romp with a tavern wench would never appeal to him.
As Jack brought in the coffee, Dominic returned to the possibility of inviting Lady Anne. He pictured them strolling the grounds and riding over the estate before breakfast. She might play the grand pianoforte that languished in the music room and sing for them. Her company in the evening would be far superior to old Williams, and should she join him in his bed, that, too, would be most agreeable.
