“Lady Seraphine?” Mr. Harper's voice pulled her back.
She blinked and turned towards him. “My apologies,” she said with a small laugh. “I fear I was distracted.”
“I hope not by boredom,” he replied, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
“Oh no. If I were bored, I should have escaped already.”
Mr. Harper grinned. “I shall consider that a victory.”
And I shall consider the scowl on Damien’s face a victory as well.
Chapter Eighteen
As the evening continued, Seraphine found herself enjoying Mr. Harper’s company more and more. He possessed a quick wit and an easy confidence that put her at ease.
Yet every so often she felt it. A gaze. Heavy. Persistent. Waiting. Whenever she glanced across the room, she found Damien watching. Sometimes near the fireplace. Sometimes speaking to another guest. Once standing entirely alone with a glass of brandy. Always watching. It became impossible to ignore. By the time refreshments were announced, she felt oddly unsettled.
Mr. Harper rose and offered her his arm. “Shall we seek sustenance before Lady Branson devours all the cakes?” he asked.
Seraphine laughed as she accepted. “I did notice she has remarkable determination where pastries are concerned.”
Together they crossed the room. They had barely reached the refreshment table when a familiar voice interrupted.
“Harper.” Caspian appeared holding a billiards cue. There was a determined gleam in his eyes that suggested he had arrived with a specific purpose.
Mr. Harper looked up, spotted him, and immediately groaned theatrically.
The sound drew a smile from Seraphine before a single word had even been exchanged.
“No,” he said, shaking his head before Caspian could speak.
“Yes,” Caspian replied, pointing the cue at him.
“No.”
“You beat me last time,” Caspian said.
“Skillfully,” Mr. Harper said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from his sleeve.
“I demand a rematch,” Caspian continued.
“My first triumph was not enough?” Harper grinned.
Several nearby guests glanced over, clearly sensing an entertaining argument in progress. Caspian narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Mr. Harper only looked more delighted, clearly enjoying every moment of his irritation. The two men reminded Seraphine of schoolboys squabbling over a game rather than grown gentlemen at a fashionable gathering.
“You owe me a rematch,” Caspian declared again.
Mr. Harper turned towards Seraphine. “Would you object terribly if I were absent for a moment of honor and glory?”
“I suspect neither is involved,” Seraphine replied.
Caspian barked a laugh. “See?” he said. “Even Lady Seraphine knows you're talking nonsense.”
“Lady Seraphine wounds me.” Mr. Harper pressed a dramatic hand to his chest and staggered back a step as though mortally injured.
“You shall survive.” Seraphine fought back a smile as she lifted her glass.
“I shall endeavor to.” He straightened with a grin and dipped into a bow. “If you'll excuse me?” he asked, glancing towards the billiards room.
