Page 14
FIVE
The dining room
A dozenfluttery heartbeats later
Jack had come.
And what was more, he’d sought Aubriella out first thing this morning. Two weeks ago, his attention would’ve infuriated her, but today?
Today, he’d become her rescuer.
Her savior.
Her hero.
Unfamiliar giddiness replaced the leaden weight in her tummy.
Because the truth of it was, she did mind being a maladroit laughingstock and the last person grudgingly chosen for games. She did notice the pitying glances and quickly shushed whispers about her ineptness.
Sometimes, not so hushed judgmental gasps, too.
For instance, when Aubriella sent the pall mall ball sailing across the lawn, the wooden sphere had smacked Lord Bradrawy in his prominent nose, bloodying the appendage. And when someone had bumped her during her turn at Snapdragon, Aubriella had tipped the bowl of flaming raisins and almonds over.
She still wasn’t positive Francine Willoughby hadn’t shoved her on purpose.
No one, not even a woman dedicated to science and logic, enjoyed constantly being the brunt of others’ jokes. If success this yuletide meant swallowing her pride and accepting her nemesis’s help, then Aubriella would choke on her blasted pride.
Especially, if said adversary was dastardly handsome and suave in a striking charcoal-gray coat, irritatingly skilled at all that she was not, and a favorite among the usual guests.
Just this once, Aubriella wanted to fit in.
Now that Jack was here, and if he fulfilled his promise, mayhap this yuletide gathering would be bearable, if not enjoyable, after all.
Jack set a full plate on the table before pulling out the vacant chair to her left. Without waiting for her reply, he sank his tall, lean form onto the green velvet cushion. Freshly shaved, his raven hair still slightly damp, and cologne wafting from his much too masculine form, he appeared at ease.
He always had.
She couldn’t recall a time when he’d been anything but nonchalant. Not indolent, just entirely at ease with himself. Something Aubriella still struggled with because she didn’t meet her family’s or society’s expectations.
How the devil did Jack manage such insouciance?
As if he neither noticed nor gave a fig what others thought of him.
In truth, he probably didn’t.
From down the table, Emmet nodded a greeting, which Jack returned with a half-smile and a jaunty wave. Quentin Honeybrook also dipped his chin in a brief greeting.
“Duncan will be along shortly.” After snapping his napkin open, Jack placed the linen across his lap. Aubriella tried not to notice how well his muscled thighs filled his buff-colored pantaloons. “We arrived well past midnight, and he was reluctant to leave his mattress this morn.”
“Good morning, Mr. Matherfield.” Matilda bobbed her head, the unruly riot of bright red curls held in place by a green ribbon wrapped around her head and tied beneath her chignon, threatening to spring loose at the motion. “We weren’t certain you’d be able to tear yourself away from London.”
“I have excellent managers, Miss Fitzlloyd, who I trust implicitly.” Jack veered his gaze toward Roxina. “Miss Danforth. No brother?”
He didn’t seem disappointed by Mitchel Danforth’s absence.
No one did.
Not even Roxina.
