It did not escape Remmy’s notice that the man across from them was scowling. So Remmy offered his best grin. “I do not think we’ve met, sir. How do you know my father?”
“I belong to his club in London, and I’ve been lucky to share many conversations with him about England’s future. I am Viscount Jeffers. But you need no introduction. You are the familial black sheep, Remington the Rake.”
“Is that what they’re calling me? How delightful.” He peeked at Tessa.
She was scowling at Viscount Jeffers.
And while that hot-eyed stare would have singed the hair right off Remmy’s head if directed at him, Jeffers didn’t even notice. Some men were too dim for their own good.
“How do you know Miss Carter?” Jeffers demanded.
“I discovered her alone and in need of diversion, and if there’s anything Remington the Rake”—a little growling sound from down the table in Tessa’s direction—“knows how to do well… it’s divert women.”
Now Tessa huffed.
Remmy peeked at her again. She was cutting through a piece of already shredded bacon, her furrowed brow beetling in his direction. Dare he hope she was… jealous?
Tilbury put a calming hand on hers.
Now Remmy was almost growling. He cleared his throat, returned his attention to Jeffers.
“How do you know Miss Carter?” Remmy asked.
“I have known her since we were children. I’m a particular friend of her brother’s.”
Remmy pushed his plate away. His stomach felt heavy and sour, his appetite ruined. “Ah. You should take care of her kindly, then. You know how best to do it.”
Jeffers leaned over the table, eyes locked on MissCarter. “That’s what I was telling you, Abby. Do not be angry with me.”
Miss Carter’s nose reached new heights. “I think Mr. Ives is doing a rather good job of caring for me. Better than you have this morning.” She took a bite of her eggs.
And Remmy risked another glance at Tessa, who was entirely ignoring Tilbury, who didn’t seem to notice because he was involved in a book.
A book? When a beautiful woman was so close and not paying attention and you wanted her to pay attention more than any other damn thing in the world?
Fool.
Remmy turned to Miss Carter. “I thought we might take a walk in the garden this morning.”
“I should like that. But I must tell my mama.”
“Naturally.”
“Abby!” Jeffers half jumped from his seat, and the chair screeched backward, stopping the chatter across the room. Silence now, and in it, Jeffers sat slowly, nodding his apologies to the others. He leaned across the table and hissed, “You cannot walk anywhere withhim. You should not be sitting by him as if he were a harmless lap dog.”
“A lap dog?” Remmy chuckled. “I’m at least a good hound. A Saint Bernard, perhaps. I’m not entirely sure. Something big certainly.” He poured tea into a nearby empty cup. “What do you think, Miss King? What kind of dog am I?”
“A slobbering one,” Tessa snapped.
Miss Carter laughed.
“I will not allow you to go anywhere with him,” Jeffers said. “I’ll walk with you this afternoon.”
A moment of silence, and then Miss Carter said in the softest voice, barely heard above the cutlery, “You said this morning you could not stand to be near me.”
“I didn’t mean…” Jeffers pulled at his hair. “I meant…” He cursed under his breath, exhaled sharply, then raised rather adoring eyes at Miss Carter. “Walk withme, Abby. Please.”
Miss Carter took another bite of eggs, patted her mouth with a serviette, then rose. “We’ll see.” She marched out of the room, and Jeffers trailed after her.
