Page 6

THREE

Penfords’ House, Mayfair—London

Half eight that evening

Hiding a triumphant smile,Jack slid into the seat beside Aubriella. He snapped his serviette open and smoothed it across his black pantaloons. Likely miffed at the seating arrangements, she refused to acknowledge his presence.

She’d come around, eventually.

He knew how to draw her out, though it usually involved her temper flaring. Meanwhile, he would surreptitiously look his fill at the lovely young woman she’d transformed into for dinner.

The candles cast a golden glow on her pretty sable-brown hair and caused the pearls encircling her slender ivory neck and dangling from her shell-like ears to gleam. Her cream muslin gown, with its sea-foam green overskirt and embroidered flowers at the hem and around the sleeves, enhanced the fern-green in her hazel eyes.

Unlike her sisters, Aubriella would never be considered a beauty by society’s limited and warped standards. Jessamine and Lenora were lovely—roses or peonies in full bloom. But tall and slender, Aubriella was a delphinium or gladiolus.

He hid a grin behind his wineglass.

She would loathe the comparison.

Though most women adored flowers, she’d always preferred medicinal plants, herbs, or even weeds. Yes, Aubriella Kendra Larkspur Penford was remarkably unique.

Jack’s interest in her wasn’t romantic.

After all, she was his good friend’s sister, and he’d known Aubriella for so long that they were practically family. He supposed his fascination with her stemmed from him appreciating a challenge, and she was the most provoking woman he’d ever met. Her disdain and dislike of him had puzzled him for years, and try as he might, he couldn’t recall what he’d done to earn her disfavor.

He glanced across the table to where his and Emmet Penford’s longtime friend, Shelby Tellinger, regarded Roxina Danforth with barely concealed mockery. Roxina’s brother, Mitchel, seated at Aubriella’s right, was Tellinger’s best friend.

It was a peculiar coupling as Tellinger was an upright chap and several years younger, though a tad temperamental and serious. On the other hand, Mitchel Danforth was a wastrel and fop, and those were his good qualities.

He treated his sister abominably, and she openly held in contempt anyone who called themselves Mitchel’s friends. Thus, she and Tellinger were constantly at odds.

In truth, they were rather like Jack and Aubriella, although for entirely different reasons.

“That gown is very becoming.” Jack sipped his wine, awaiting Aubriella’s response.

None came.

So, she meant to play that game, did she?

Give him the silent treatment?

Hadn’t she learned by now he knew exactly how to maneuver past her bastions?

Servants cleared the artichoke soup, replacing it with fish seasoned with fennel and mint. The Penfords, like the others seated at the table, weren’t aristocrats, though some present had aristocratic relatives, such as himself. These were genteel people, hovering on the fringes of le beau monde and considered vulgar by the haut ton because they earned a living.

“Are you going to ignore me the entire evening?” Jack whispered near Aubriella’s ear, inhaling her subtle perfume—light and citrusy with a hint of jasmine. She’d gone all out for her brother’s birthday, which showed how much she adored Emmet.

She stiffened so slightly that no one else noticed and pasted a false smile on her face.

“I’m not ignoring you.”

Bugger me if she isn’t.

“You are, Aubrie, but I’m at a loss as to why.”

A moment later, Jack’s thigh burned with sharp pain.

She’d pinched him.