Then Seraphine looked to her left. And nearly sighed aloud. Damien lowered himself into the chair beside her.
Of course he has.
The man seemed capable of appearing beside her whenever he pleased. She was suddenly seated between two gentlemen. The awareness of it made heat creep into her cheeks. Damien noticed immediately. His mouth twitched.
Insufferable.
Chapter Thirteen
The first course was served shortly thereafter; a delicate soup accompanied by fresh rolls and butter. Conversation began flowing naturally around the table. Seraphine directed her attention firmly towards Lord Nathanson. If Damien wished to lurk beside her all evening, he could do so alone.
“So tell me, Lord Nathanson,” she said pleasantly as she set down her spoon. “How do you find managing an estate of your size?”
The gentleman brightened and straightened slightly in his chair.
“I manage rather well, I believe,” he said, lifting his wine glass before setting it down again.
“I imagine it requires a great deal of organization,” Seraphine replied.
“It does.” He nodded confidently. “Fortunately I run a very efficient household.”
Seraphine smiled politely and tilted her head. “And do you get on well with your staff?”
“Very well indeed,” Lord Nathanson answered, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin.
“That is good to hear,” she said, genuinely pleased as she reached for her glass. She genuinely meant it. A gentleman's treatment of servants often revealed far more about his character than his treatment of guests.
“Though I could always use additional help,” he said, setting the linen aside and reaching for his wine glass.
“Then perhaps you should hire more staff,” Seraphine replied, lifting her brows as she dipped her spoon neatly into her soup.
The suggestion seemed perfectly reasonable. To her surprise, Lord Nathanson frowned.
“Hire more?” he repeated, pausing with his glass halfway to his lips.
“Of course.” She set down her spoon and looked at him. “If the household requires assistance.”
The gentleman gave a short laugh and shook his head. “That becomes expensive,” he said, taking a sip of wine before placing the glass back upon the table.
The second course arrived then; a selection of fish accompanied by vegetables. Servants moved silently around the table while Seraphine considered his answer. Across from her, several guests were discussing the games that had been played at the house party. Damien remained suspiciously quiet.
She turned back towards Lord Nathanson, resting her fork lightly against the edge of her plate.
“Surely a household functions best when properly staffed,” she said. “If there is more work than the servants can reasonably manage, additional help seems the sensible solution.”
“Perhaps.” Lord Nathanson took a sip of wine before setting down his glass. Something in his expression shifted, the easy pleasantness from earlier fading slightly. “But it is wise not to overspend.”
Seraphine blinked. The answer struck her as oddly rigid. “I suppose that depends,” she replied.
His brows drew together. “Depends?”
“On the result.” She offered a small shrug. “If spending the money improves the running of the household, then surely it is money well spent.”
For a brief moment, Lord Nathanson simply looked at her. Then his expression tightened. It was not dramatic. Another person might have missed it entirely. Yet Seraphine had spent years learning to recognize the smallest changes in a man's mood. The slight narrowing of his eyes. The faint tension around his mouth.
Enough to tell her he was displeased. Enough to tell her she had ventured into territory he believed she ought not enter.
For a heartbeat, Seraphine simply looked at him. Around them, the dinner continued as though nothing at all had happened. Silverware chimed softly against fine china. Candles flickered overhead. Somewhere farther down the table, a gentleman recounted a story that earned a ripple of laughter from his audience.
