Almost as if last night hadn’t happened at all.
“Apparently, a few of the ladies believe one in particular has an advantage and that the rest have little chance of winning Rothwell’s favor. Some have spoken of packing up and returning to London.”
“Lady Maribel is the lady with an advantage?” Evie guessed. Even now, the blonde leaned so far in the marquess’s direction that a slight breeze would knock her off of the settee she perched on. “What can be done?”
“Oh, there’s little that can be done. I’ve asked Rothwell to show equal favor to the ladies present until he has made a decision.”
Evie swallowed hard and shot her aunt a questioning look.
“He says he hasn’t. And how could he? It’s only the second day of the party.”
“Quite right,” said Evie, suddenly flushed from her toes to her forehead and full of nervous energy.
She studied the demeanor of each of the ladies, trying to detect the enmity her aunt spoke of. But they were all so well versed at social niceties that it was hard to perceive. What Evie did sense was the precise moment Gray noticedherpresence.
His appraising gaze on her felt as provoking as the slide of his thumb across her lips.
She turned her head, met his gaze squarely, and tried not to let her aunt see how affected she was.
After a mutual perusal, his lips curved in a soft smile. But Evie couldn’t be sure if she was the cause. One of the ladies near him had made an amusing comment if the titter of laughter from the rest was any indication.
When they finally went into dinner, Gray approached, almost reaching her before one of the ladies detained him, and another clung to his side.
Evie understood. They were here for one singular purpose. But if the house party had seemed silly to her before last night, the jostling for his attention was almost unbearable today.
She was grateful that she and Gray were seated on the same side of the long table in the dining room. Having him watch her from across the bouquets of blooms in the center would have made it impossible to focus on anything else.
As it was, eating her dinner whilst listening to Lady Maribel giggling and one of the other ladies quizzing him proved hard enough.
After dinner, she would retreat to her room. She could feign a aching head, but she refused to sit through another round of parlor games if she could help it.
When the whole ordeal of the multi-course dinner finished, everyone stood up from their chairs, and the ladies returned to the drawing room while the gentlemen departed to the billiard room.
Evie whispered to her aunt that she planned to retire early and read before bed.
Aunt Lydia’s brow pinched in a quizzical expression, but she had no time to question Evie. Lady Hepworth seemed determined to get her attention regarding some matter related to Lady Northam.
Without a word to anyone else, Evie returned to her room and settled into a chair by the fire with a knitted blanket across her legs and a book she’d brought along on the journey. She even managed to read a few words before her mind drifted to Gray.
Each time she glanced at her bed, she imagined him slumped on the edge.
Good heavens, she’d never been so fanciful in her life.
Evie sat the book aside. She couldn’t concentrate anyway. Pulling the blanket higher, she drew her legs up and folded them beneath her, rested her chin on her hand, and stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace.
Gray would marry one of the ladies attending the house party. That was the duty he owed to his father, and he was the sort of man who understood what was expected of him.
The sooner she forgot last night, the better.
Someone knocked on the door, and Evie’s eyes fluttered open. She’d fallen asleep, the fire had waned to flickering embers, and she was shocked to see that nearly an hour had passed since she’d nodded off.
When she opened her door, she found a Carthwaite maid ringing her hands, cheeks flushed.
“His lordship requests that you join him in the library.”
“His lordship requests—” Evie’s sleep-muddled mind struggled to understand. “The library?”
“Yes, miss. He says it’s most urgent.”
