He choked on the potato. She’d been watching him far longer than he’d realized. He reached for his glass, hoping to wash down the unfortunate bite.
Lifting it to his lips, he took a large gulp and swallowed. Thankfully, the potato complied and slipped down easily. Something soft grazed the side of his thigh and he wondered if he’d brushed against Javenia’s gown. He moved his leg away.
“I think they are lovely and quite finely made.” There, that had been a sensible statement.
Her eyes widened. “Are you ill?”
“Not at all.” He adjusted in his seat.
“Oh good, because your face is flushed, and you just complimented me.” Her eyebrows lifted comically high. “Twice, to be exact.”
He willed his face to cool. Men looked at women. It was a natural thing to do. Then why did he feel like a numbskull for getting caught? Where was his natural charm when he needed it?
He stumbled over his words. “I am certain I have complimented you before.”
She stared down at her plate, pushing her food around, all humor gone. “Not that I can recall.”
Had he really never offered her a compliment?
“At least not without a barb attached.” She flashed him a quick smile.
The matron to his left asked about his family’s health, and he turned to answer her. It was not a difficult question to answer, but he hesitated when he felt the slight pressure on his thigh again, this time a little firmer. Their seats were close, but he did not think he was close enough to brush Javenia’s leg.
He answered the woman, explaining his father’s headache and subsequent absence for the evening, then promised her he’d extend her well wishes for better health. The moment he turned back to his food, the brush came again, only this time it settled firmly on his leg.
That, most definitely, was not Javenia’s skirt. It was her hand gripping his thigh several inches above his knee. Fire shot through him like a lightning bolt and he swallowed hard. What on earth was she doing? They were in the middle of dinner. What if someone saw her hand there?
He glanced nervously about the table, but no one paid them any attention, not even Lady Plum, one of London’s most active gossips.
Had Javenia done it on purpose?
Of course it had to be on purpose. One did not mistake their leg with someone else’s. The hand on his thigh shifted slightly higher, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. He let his eyes slide closed momentarily before remembering he was supposed to be eating. With a tight grip on his fork, he stabbed at a piece of meat… and missed.
How did one miss something right in front of their face?
Easily, it seemed. He’d known Javenia his whole life and somehow missed how forward she could be. Not that he minded. He liked her hand on his leg far too much. It fulfilled years of fantasies that were best left buried.
Carefully, he hazarded a glance at her and found her face averted as she listened to the gentleman on her other side. The skin along the gentle curve of her neck flushed pink, possibly a sign of how the contact affected her. Then again, perhaps it was nothing. The room had grown unbearably warm, after all.
Setting down his fork, he leaned back and removed the linen from his lap to dab at his mouth.
Javenia’s fingers slipped from the edge of the napkin, and he wanted to curse when she placed her hand back in her own lap. But he’d seen her fingers on his thigh with his own two eyes, proof that he’d not fantasized the whole interaction. His heart thrummed a happy tune as he finally had the wherewithal to get his pesky bite of meat into his mouth.
Javenia’s heart could not be far from his if she’d take such a risk by touching him so intimately. He had no right to hope, not with the challenges placed before him, but he did.
He glanced down the long table to where the duke was engaged in conversation with the Countess of Lincolnhurst and his nose wrinkled. At least the woman’s son was not in attendance. Last season Lord Hamdon had intentionally courted Javenia, and Algenon had feared he’d lose her. But the season had ended, and with it the viscount’s attentions. Hopefully he’d not renew his interest now that she was back in London.
Algenon didn’t think Javenia returned the man’s regard, but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her to the likes of Hamdon. The man carried himself with a bored indifference that spoke of his arrogance. He probably considered most everyone below his notice. And his mother… Algenon pulled his gaze away from Lady Lincolnhurst’s obviously flirtatious overtures toward the duke. Did the woman have no shame?
To distract himself from his ever-growing tumultuous feelings he stared at the opposite wall. Several portraits lined the long dining hall; their gold gilt frames similar in design yet varied in shape. His own home held similar pictures. Like most of his peers, generations of Roberts’ family portraits were displayed in a gallery at their country estate. Why did the duke display his around the dinner table?
“They are beautiful, do you not agree?”
Algenon turned to find Javenia contemplating the same portraits. After a moment, she rewarded him with her warm, brown-eyed gaze.
“It is like we are dining with all the great people of the duke’s family,” she said softly.
His chest rose and fell with the revelation. “I’d not thought of it like that. Do you believe His Grace hung them here as a way to include his deceased family?”
