His eyes lit up when he stepped toward her, his lips curving with appreciation as he took her in. He reached for her hand and bowed over it, pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. “Exquisite,” he murmured. Straightening himself, he held her gaze, apparently for a beat too long since Lord Griffin cleared his throat, forcing Mr. Partridge to acknowledge him next.
Mr. Partridge released Emily’s hand, though not without her noting the slide of his fingers against her own. She glanced at Lord Griffin and sucked in a breath. His expression was rigid, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at Mr. Partridge with flint in his eyes.
Mr. Partridge did not seem to notice, or if he did, he failed to show it. Instead, he smiled and offered Lord Griffin his hand. “Mr. Crawford. It is such a pleasure to have you join us for dinner. If you please, allow me to introduce you to my parents, who have been very eager to make your acquaintance. You remember my sister of course, Miss Amanda Partridge.”
“Indeed,” Lord Griffin muttered, his voice a clear indication that he did not like Mr. Partridge in the least.
Emily steeled herself for what she feared might turn into an unpleasant evening and followed him and her mother over to where Mr. Partridge’s parents and sister stood waiting.
“This is my father, Mr. George Partridge and my mother, Mrs. Lydia Partridge,” Mr. Partridge said with a warm smile.
The older couple greeted Emily’s mother first, then Lord Griffin, and finally Emily. Deciding not to aggravate Lord Griffin any further, Emily struck up a conversation with Miss Partridge in an effort to avoid speaking with her brother. But Mr. David Partridge was apparently quite determined to gain her attention, for he extricated himself quite smoothly from the group comprising his parents, Georgina, and Lord Griffin, and came to join her and his sister instead.
“I was wondering if you could give us an update on how the children you care for are doing,” he said. “If memory serves, there are five?”
“That is correct,” Emily said, a little impressed that he would remember. “Two boys and three girls. They’re in London at the moment with Lady Cassandra.”
“Clearview must seem empty without them there,” Miss Partridge said.
“There’s certainly less noise,” Emily confessed.
“Of that I have no doubt,” Mr. Partridge told her with a chuckle. He studied her a moment before quietly asking, “Do you miss it?”
“I missthem,” Emily said and for some reason that answer seemed to please him, judging from the increased brightness in his eyes.
“You have a good heart,” he said as if thinking out loud.
“The same could be said of you,” Emily replied. “There are many who would donate to charitable causes but only a few who would actually get involved. The fact that you visit the orphanages you help in order to ensure that the children there are properly cared for is very impressive.”
“You flatter me, Miss Howard.”
“I speak the truth,” she told him honestly.
“My brother can’t bear to see children suffer,” Miss Partridge added. “It would seem the two of you have that in common.”
Emily dipped her head in silent agreement. When she looked up, her gaze met Lord Griffin’s from across the room, the anger she saw there unnerving her more than she cared to admit.
A nerve ticked at the edge of his jaw, and for a second she feared he might storm across the room, pick her up, and carry her out of the house. But then his attention was broken by something Mr. George Partridge said, and Emily expelled a breath she had not even realized she had been holding.
“May I escort you?” Mr. David Partridge asked her when the butler announced it was time to go in for dinner. He held his arm up and Emily carefully placed her hand upon it. To do otherwise would have been rude. And besides, Lord Griffin did not own her. He had no right to oppose Mr. David Partridge’s attentions or to let them bother him.
Bolstered by this knowledge, Emily straightened her spine and decided to enjoy her host’s company. After all, Mr. Partridge was not only handsome but very likeable. “When do you plan on returning to Dorset?” she asked him once the first course was underway and she’d grown accustomed to Lord Griffin’s glower from across the table.
“The day after tomorrow,” Mr. Partridge informed her. “I must get back, loathe as I am to part with this particular area of England.” He turned his gaze toward her as he said it, leaving no doubt in Emily’s mind that Lord Griffin had been correct. Mr. Partridge did have intentions toward her, and they included the prospect of courtship and marriage.
She glanced at Lord Griffin and caught herself swallowing. His gaze was so intense it seemed to burn straight through her. Her cheeks grew warm and her hands a bit clammy. She reached for her glass, desperate for something with which to distract herself from both of these men. This wasn’t what she was used to. She’d been a wallflower all her life and did not have the necessary skill or experience to tackle a territorial fight carried out by two dominant males.
Mr. Partridge smiled and in that smile she saw hope and determination. He shifted it toward Lord Griffin, took a sip of his wine, and asked, “How is your wife faring, Mr. Crawford?”
The emphasis on wife was not lost on Emily. Hands trembling, she set the glass to her lips and took a big gulp. Apparently, the battle had already begun, and with Mr. Partridge reminding Lord Griffin, whom he thought was Caleb, that his aversion to his interest in Emily was inappropriate and misplaced.
Heaven help her.
Lord Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “Perfectly well,” he clipped and stuck a piece of pheasant in his mouth. When he spoke again, his expression had eased and his voice had become suspiciously pleasant. “I daresay she misses not only myself but Miss Howard as well. The two are, as you well know, longtime friends. Practically sisters, in fact.” He picked up his glass and swirled his wine slowly about before saying, “As such, Miss Howard is not only under her parents’ protection, but under mine as well.”
Dear God.
Emily had to clamp her mouth shut to keep it from falling open. Had Lord Griffin really just told Mr. Partridge that he would have to go through him in order to get to Emily? He might as well have tossed a glove in the man’s face for all the difference it made.
