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“Doxy did not want to let you go?” Astrid muttered, just loud enough for their little group to be able to hear. Lady Annabelle audibly gasped, which drew Ormonde’s attention to her, his gaze flicking around to each of them and halting on Lady Isabella. His expression, which had gone granite at Astrid’s comment, immediately softened.

“Ladies.” He bowed to them, his gaze returning to Lady Isabella. “I must apologize for both my tardiness and my appearance, but given the former, I wanted to greet our gracious hostess before I made my way to my room to freshen up.”

“Ah, yes, we’d much rather you come to us smelling of horse.” This time, Astrid spoke a little louder, a smile accompanying her acerbic comment as she tilted her head back to look up at her fiancé as if she was jesting.

“A delight, as always, mon petit chou.” Ormonde bowed to her, and Astrid’s eyes flared.

Mei pressed her lips together. Astrid hated when he called her that. She insisted that he was calling her a cabbagehead, even though she knew “my little cabbage” was an endearment in French.

To be entirely fair, Mei thought it was very possible Ormonde had chosen that particular endearment specifically because it was so close to an insult. After all, he had no love for Astrid’s nickname for him.

“Begone, Lucifer,” Astrid hissed at him, bristling all over like a cat.

Lady Annabelle looked ready to faint while Lady Isabella appeared about to burst into laughter.

“Ladies.” He bowed again and eyed his betrothed. “I will return to escort you to dinner.”

“Lucky me,” Astrid grumbled, though he’d already turned heel and begun striding away. It was unlikely he’d been able to hear her.

“Oh, my.” Lady Annabelle gulped. “I ah… I thought… I mean… you two are betrothed?”

“Unfortunately.” Astrid glared at Ormonde’s back as it disappeared through the door. He halted to greet someone else on the other side, and a moment later, the Duke of Grafton entered the room. Like Ormonde, he was dark and brooding, but without the tension of anger hanging about him. No, Grafton was sad. Always so sad.

Just like Ormonde, he looked around the room, and when his gaze landed on their little group, his expression faltered at the sight of Lady Isabella sitting there. Beside her, Lady Annabelle sat up, smiling brightly. Mei found her just as interesting as Lady Isabella. Perhaps more so.

Not just because she had taken what Mei very privately thought should have been Delilah’s place. She understood why Grafton had acted as he had, even if she thought he’d be far happier with Delilah.

No, there was some kind of undercurrent with Lady Annabelle herself. Though she appeared to be the perfect fiancée for the duke—clever, warm, socially adept (although perhaps a bit out of her depth when dealing with Ormonde and Astrid’s animosity), and prepared to be a good duchess to Grafton—there was something there Mei could not quite put her finger on. She did not know Lady Annabelle well enough.

Perhaps during the house party, she would be able to get to know the lady better to figure out what she was hiding.

Mei turned her head and caught her breath as she caught the Duke of Bolton’s eye. He was looking across the room. At her. Perhaps he’d been looking over to see how Lady Isabella was doing or check on his sister or Lady Astrid, but his gaze had caught hers, and for a moment, it was like she forgot how to breathe.

This time, she jerked her gaze away, turning back to the other ladies.

She really had to stop doing that.

11

Sebastian

“The Duke of Ormonde looked upset when he left,” Lady MarcyAnne whispered, appearing worried. “What do you think happened?”

“He often looks that way,” Christian quipped, stepping up to join their little group with Miss Fenley on his arm, her brother following behind them. “Do not think twice about it. You’ll discover over the next few days that Drake rarely smiles when he has the option to scowl instead.”

The smile that Christian himself bestowed upon Lady MarcyAnne appeared to dazzle her for a moment. Sebastian wondered if he should feel jealous that Christian was so easily charming Sebastian’s potential brides… but after all, Christian needed a bride as well. He supposed he should not be stingy.

He could not marry all four of them, after all.

Movement at the door caught his attention, diverting it from the conversation around him. Zachary had just arrived and was making his way across the room to Isabella and Lady Annabelle. Sebastian could not help but look over, wondering how Zachary and Isabella’s reunion would be, but was immediately distracted as Miss Hu began to turn toward him. From across the room, their gazes met, and he swore he felt an odd kind of heat sizzle between them, just as he had before.

Then she turned away, and he felt unusually bereft.

At which point he was grateful for Christian’s presence, allowing him to cede some of the conversational reins to his friend. Lord Hayworth was either very quiet or very distracted because he’d barely said a word unless asked a direct question. In fact, Sebastian had the rather disturbing feeling that the man had taken up against him for some reason, even though they’d never met before today.

Hayworth was certainly very protective of Lady Juliette, which was not a problem in and of itself, but if he had any influence over her decisions, he could very well scupper Sebastian’s prospects before he’d even had time to decide if he wanted to formally court Lady Juliette. Then again, there were three other prospects here, who Miss Hu had thought would be worthy candidates.

He glanced at her again, but all he saw was the back of her head as she did not turn around this time.