And then they were walking through the arched doorway to the club, where a man who introduced himself as Mr. Faulkner stood ready to greet them. He sent a servant to inform Mr. Lowell of their arrival before helping the ladies off with their cloaks and taking the gentlemen’s hats.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!”
The masculine voice speaking with confidence at her back announced Mr. Lowell’s arrival. Tearing her gaze away from the stunning decor of the dining room she could glimpse from the foyer, Viola turned to face him. And almost lost her balance when the tip of her slipper caught the hem of her dress.
Lowell rushed forward and caught her by the elbow, steadying her with a friendly laugh. “I’m glad to see my establishment still has the power to shock people into losing their footing.”
Viola’s cheeks heated, though not from embarrassment. On the contrary, her sudden state of disconcertment had everything to do with Lowell’s appearance and the touch of his hand. Because as handsome as he’d been while confined to his cot at the hospital and the two times she’d happened upon him since, nothing could have prepared her for how dashing he looked tonight in his evening attire. It clung to his broad shoulders and tall frame, matching the shade of his hair to perfection.
“Your Grace,” he murmured, removing his hand from her elbow to leave a cool spot in its place.
He smiled with boyish amusement, eyes gleaming with pure excitement. And then his gaze lowered ever so slightly to the bare expanse of skin above her neckline. It lasted but a second, so quick no one else would notice. But when he raised his eyes to her face once more, Viola’s breath caught in her throat, for there was no denying this man had scandalous thoughts where she was concerned.
Thoughts he hid very well by calmly adding, “It is lovely to see you again.”
Turning away, he greeted the rest of the party while Viola tried to gather her wits. Her body tingled in anticipation of spending the rest of the evening with him. This was madness! How could her common sense let her crave this man’s attention so, in spite of her every intention to resist it?
Yet here she was with him now offering her his arm. As the only unattached woman, she could not refuse. Nor did she want to. So she placed her hand carefully where it belonged, acknowledged the flutter in the pit of her belly for what it was, and allowed him to lead her into the restaurant.
“You look incredible, by the way,” Mr. Lowell murmured while steering her between a few tables. “Utterly delectable.”
His voice was warm and smooth—seductive in its softness. A flare of heat rushed over her skin. “Thank you,” she managed, even though she was sure he was just being polite. “You look quite dashing yourself.”
“Why, Mrs. Cartwright. I do believe you may be warming toward me.” His voice was light with amusement, yet filled with immeasurable pleasure.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet,” she warned in a tone meant to tease, for the truth of the matter was, she had yet to see any evidence of a man who did not deserve her friendship or respect.
They reached their table and he pulled out a chair so she could take her seat while Amelia and Gabriella took theirs. And then Lowell sat down beside her. His shoulder brushed hers as he shifted, sending a dart of heat straight down her middle. Viola sucked in a breath and held it, determined to regain her composure. But doing so was difficult when the heavenliest scent of sandalwood emanated from his person.
Thankfully, Mr. Faulkner distracted her by handing out menus. Viola accepted hers with thanks and the gratitude she felt at being able to ignore Mr. Lowell for the time it took her to study it. Except it occurred to her, as she opened the leather-bound folio, that she wouldn’t be able to read what it said without the use of her spectacles. And she’d deliberately left those at home with no intention of embodying the long-sighted bluestocking this evening. Which left her with a bit of a predicament.
Considering her options, she decided she had only one, which was to ask for help. She glanced at Coventry first. He sat to her right, but was turned slightly away while he spoke to Amelia.
Bracing herself, Viola drew a deep breath and addressed Mr. Lowell. “Is there anything particular you can recommend?”
He leaned slightly closer and held his menu up higher, offering them a little seclusion from the rest of the group. Viola’s pulse quickened. “The oysters are especially tasty if you are in the mood for an appetizer.” His breath caressed her cheek in a way that caused tiny embers to dance across her shoulders. “Or perhaps the onion soup?”
Viola drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid I am not very fond of oysters. Or onion soup.” She hesitated briefly before asking, “What else is there?”
He paused before saying, “There’s pickled herring and caviar. Smoked salmon if you prefer.”
She gave her own menu a quick glance. It appeared as if there was much more than that, only she could not read it.
Biting her lip, she made some pretense of considering her options before asking, “How about the meats?”
“The roast pork is one of my favorites. Either that or the lamb.”
She stared at the blurry writing before her. “Hmm... don’t you have any fowl?” She froze, realizing her mistake the second the words left her mouth.
“Well yes,” he said as if nothing was amiss. “Right there.” He ran his finger down part of the page.
Viola tried not to squint. Instead she nodded as if she was perfectly aware of what he was showing her. “Those are some very appealing options,” she said, hoping to stop him from suspecting a thing.
“This oven-baked chicken with glazed carrots and mushroom sauce is really good,” he said. “You see it? It’s right there.” He pointed to a specific spot on the page.
Viola nodded. “Yes, I see it.” She stared at the menu as if studying it more closely. “Chicken is perfect. Thank you, Mr. Lowell.”
“You’re very welcome, aside from the fact that we do not serve chicken. The dish you just agreed to order is pheasant.” He raised one hand and gestured for Mr. Faulkner to approach. Then, in a very low whisper, he said, “Please bring me my spectacles. They’re on top of my desk.”
