Page 15 of The Dandy Lyon

Mouth watering at the sight, Joanna sighed and helped herself. The fresh air, the buzz of conversation, and the lovely scenery always gave her a keen appetite. She filled her plate and dug in.

“Mr. Dandridge acquitted himself rather well this morning.” Thomas paused as he speared a piece of kidney. “Excellent shot.”

The pulled fowl, drenched in gravy, went dry in Joanna’s mouth. She managed to swallow without choking and paused to collect herself. “Did he? Mr. Carstairs said he’d had a good morning.”

“Better than good, I allow. I will say, the man can shoot with the best of us.” Seemingly unconcerned, Thomas finished his kidneys and started on the potted pigeon.

“I am glad to hear it, Thomas. I haven’t heard many friendly words spoken of Mr. Dandridge since he arrived.” Joanna tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but she truly thought Mr. Dandridge was being sadly treated.

“Well, he got off to a shaky start, you must admit, my dear,” Honoria added. “No one likes to be told falsehoods.”

“But he’s explained that.” She might be treading on eggshells now with her defense of the gentleman, but this was something she must do. “And since then, he’s been nothing but good company.” If she was going to fight for Mr. Dandridge, then she needed to be bold. “You should wave the olive branch Thomas, and invite him to eat with us now.”

Honoria’s fork clattered onto her plate. “Joanna! You know the places are set according to precedence.”

“And they can be unset just as easily, Honoria.” Now that she had a crusade to rescue Mr. Dandridge from banishment to the far table, Joanna’s ferocity knew no bounds. “We are not in a stuffy dining room.” She turned to appeal to Thomas. “Please ask him to come here. He’s extraordinarily good company.”

“He does have an easy manner of conversation, I will say.” Thomas nodded. “We spoke of cattle on the way to the tents and he certainly knows his bloodlines. He has a good stable, from what I hear.”

“Then go invite him.” Joanna gave Thomas a none too gentle nudge under the table.

“Very well.” Thomas dropped his napkin on the table and rose. “I wouldn’t mind asking him about where he learned to shoot. I assume he wasn’t invited to parties such as this one.” He sauntered toward the back of the tent and Joanna took up her wine glass to fortify her.

“You do not want to make a fool of yourself, Joanna.” Honoria had dropped her voice despite the fact the closest person who could overhear them was seated at least ten feet away. “Mr. Dandridge may be an interesting man, but you must understand your association with him can go no further than mere acquaintanceship.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Honoria.” Joanna glanced away from her friend. “I simply wish for some spirited conversation. Mr. Dandridge’s background and experiences are so different from anyone I’ve known, of course I wish to hear about them.” She hoped her voice wasn’t trembling. “Nothing more than that.”

“Huh. May I help you, James?”

Joanna turned back to find Honoria speaking to one of the footmen.

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but the dessert wasn’t packed somehow.” James looked frightened to death to be imparting this tragic news.

“Not packed?” Honoria was on her feet in moments. “There was to be fairy cakes, a variety of cookies, and a blancmange. Are you telling me that somehow none of these items is here?”

“No, my lady.” The footman’s face was white as the icing on the missing cakes.

“Let me see what I can do.” Honoria strode away toward the tent set up for the luncheon viands.

Silently wishing her friend good luck, Joanna turned back to the table to find herself face to face with Mr. Dandridge who had quietly seated himself. She gasped and jumped, hitting her plate and making it spin perilously close to the edge of the table. She grabbed for it, but Thomas got there first.

“Careful, my dear.” His lips had a suspicious pucker to them. “You don’t want to do yourself a mischief, as the local folk say. Where did Lady Braeton disappear to?”

“A crisis with the dessert, I’m afraid. I’m certain she will return shortly after sorting it out.” That was an optimistic statement at best.

With a nod, Thomas turned his attention to Mr. Dandridge. “You shot well this morning, Dandridge. I appreciate that. Always good to keep the numbers up.”

“I’m happy to oblige you, my lord.” Mr. Dandridge sat easily in his chair, yet there seemed an air of tension about him. Especially when his gaze strayed from Thomas to her. “I’ve never been invited to such a shooting party before, so I’m glad I’ve acquitted myself well so far.”

“Where did you learn to shoot?” Thomas picked up his wine glass and sipped nonchalantly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Dandridge smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I taught myself, actually, my lord. When I was a lad.”

“Really?” Thomas cocked his head. “Where?”

“As I told you, my father was a tenant farmer for an estate in Essex, near Brentwood. After he died, I’d take his pistol into the estate forest and shoot rabbits and squirrels to help feed the family.” Mr. Dandridge eyed Thomas warily. “Eventually, I acquired a scattergun and started shooting partridges and woodcocks for the same reason.”

Thomas didn’t meet his gaze but pushed the wine glass in a small circle on the tablecloth. “Partridges are devilishly hard to bring down, Dandridge. You must have had a good eye from the time you were a boy.”