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Since when had the libertine shown an interest in Aubriella?
Was he at home when she visited Roxina?
It was none of Jack’s business, but the notion rankled, particularly given Danforth’s unsavory reputation. Maybe he ought to have a private word with Emmet or Mr. Penford regarding the matter.
Not that independent and fiery Aubriella would listen to her brother or father.
“What are you currently studying?” Jack speared a piece of flaky fish. “I believe Emmet mentioned something about da Vinci’s drawings?”
The most intelligent woman Jack had ever met, Aubriella eyed him as if she wasn’t sure if he jested or was serious. “Yes, I recently acquired a few copies. They are quite interesting.”
Her standoffish demeanor did nothing to dissuade him.
“I’d love to see them.” He truly would.
Da Vinci was a genius, his work inspiring.
Aubriella’s face drained of color before she recovered and cleared her throat. “I’m sure they’d bore you.”
Eyes slightly narrowed, Jack regarded her. Red apples had formed on her cheeks, waxen but seconds before. If he had to guess, he’d suspect she was nervous and hiding something.
Just what were the drawings she’d attained?
“I’d wager one of my restaurants that you’re not studying his inventions.” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge.
She shook her head, the curls left to frame her face, swaying with the motion. “No, they’re—”
“Will you and your brother join us at the Templetons’ again this year, Jack?” Mrs. Penford asked with her fork poised halfway to her mouth, thereby saving Aubriella from answering.
From beneath his lashes, Jack cast her a swift glance.
Hand halfway to her wineglass, she froze and turned those magnificent eyes upon him.
She silently asked, “Will you?”
Until this moment, he’d been undecided. He nodded. “If Duncan and I can get away, we shall, Mrs. Penford.”
Did Aubriella’s mouth turn downward the merest bit?
Why was she so averse to him?
Jack took a deep sip of wine, savoring the flavor before the liquid slid down his throat.
Since she turned fourteen or fifteen, she’d been far more reserved than she had as a child when he’d brought her many interesting things to examine. But this past year, she’d become positively frigid in his presence. It was as if he’d offended her, but he didn’t know how.
“Robyn and I are attending as well.” Miss Fitzlloyd smiled at her older brother, and he kicked his mouth upward into an affectionate grin.
“As if you gave me any choice, minx. She’s been talking about naught else for weeks now.” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and glanced around the table. “Does anyone else intend to make the trip?”
Westerham lay just over twenty miles away.
Like Jack, many of the other guests tonight were parentless, and the kindhearted Templetons had begun inviting the orphans for holidays years ago. Mrs. Templeton was Mrs. Penford’s bosom girlhood friend and cousin, so the families usually spent the holiday together.
“I hope it snows from now until next week.” Aubriella’s heated statement, mumbled beneath her breath, yanked Jack’s attention back to her. She stared at her plate, an aura of defeat about her.
“Why?” He cut a piece of mackerel. “Don’t you want to attend the Templetons’ house party?”
“No. I. Do. not.” She snapped each clipped syllable under her breath.
