Anabelle Bryant - Defying The Earl

“I doubt Lady Collingsworth would countenance your interference of her place settings. Women go to great lengths to manage their tables. There must be a very important reason for you to shuffle the deck.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps that rap on the head addled your wits more than mine.”

She eyed him with cautious attention and sarcasm crept into her tone, yet although her words were biting, her face looked as anxious and bewildered by her comments as he should be. And while her rebuke was meant to wound, her eyes said something else entirely. Here stood a woman who likely had not one contrary bone in her body, her sable brown gaze as clear as her conscience. So why would she be anxiously manipulating the place settings?

He dropped his eyes to the damask tablecloth, the noisy shuttle of silverware indicating guests claimed their places. Time had run out. His name card sat to the left of hers. That had been the card she’d replaced, hadn’t it? He flicked his eyes to her guileless face. Was it an accident or an intentional maneuver on her part? She couldn’t have vied to place him by her side, could she? A tic of curiosity overpowered better sense and sent his pulse into a wild thrum. Foolish, very foolish .

Lady Montgomery’s face remained expressionless, her lips as silent as an empty vault. To make matters worse, opportunity was no longer his ally as people took their seats, Leonard chatting profusely as he escorted Lady Fiona to her place.

They were well into the soup course and Valerian remained confused with Wilhelmina’s intent. She spoke little, exemplified the finest manners, and cared not a whit he sat by her side which confirmed his earlier suspicion she held another aim to her purpose. Between bites she conversed politely with the lady to her right, but that conversation too, the fashion trend of feathered bonnets, would not instigate a need to reorganize the seating. What could she be up to? If she held no purpose in sitting beside the guest to her right, and paid him no attention at her left, little sense was to be made of the situation.

Meanwhile, Leonard and Fiona exchanged engaging glances at every opportunity, their lively banter littered with double entendre and flirtation. The evening was on a quick downslide to disaster.

Valerian cleared his throat and feigned interest in the tedious conversation holding him captive. Lord Fielding seemed determined to learn every nuance of Valerian’s life since he’d last visited London.

“Quite a substantial estate you have in Devonshire. Acres of rolling countryside, herds of sheep, and a majestic parkland home. It’s no surprise you’d prefer rural living to the congestion and pollution we endure here in London. I had the pleasure of your father’s invitation years ago.”

“You’ve quite a memory.” Valerian bit back a grimace at the pastoral scene Fielding’s words painted. At one time the description fitted Kirby Park aptly, but time and circumstance had altered the conditions of his inheritance with great impact. A wish to restore the estate’s grandeur remained his highest priority and life’s purpose. It took two seasons to shed the morose temperament brought on by Caroline’s jilt. Now he was ready to proceed. If only Jasper had not depleted their coffers so dramatically. “I don’t recall your visit. Was I in house?”

“I believe you were away at university. It might have been your third year. Back then your father cajoled a group of us to join him for a series of weekly card game. If my memory serves correctly, I took a fleecing the first time I participated.” Fielding released a good-natured laugh before emptying his wine glass. “But the following week I did better. They were good times with spirited friends.”

“Aah, well then that would explain it.” Had he the monies of which Fielding spoke, Valerian could repair the lost shingles on the roof or replace the cracked window in the front hall. He’d only managed to keep his head above water by closing off most of the house, selling the furniture for less than its worth, and maintaining a menu of the scarcest variety. Perhaps that was the reason the steaming bowl of lobster bisque before him tasted heavenly. It couldn’t be the company. Lady Montgomery had hardly spoken a word, too busy devouring Leonard and Fiona’s flirtatious banter as if it provided sustenance. Could she be yearning for attention? Desperate for a courtship as romantic as the one unfolding to his left? Pity, she would soon be disappointed as he vanquished their happily ever after and collected his five thousand pounds.

Failure. The word repeated like a litany in Wilhelmina’s brain, yet she couldn’t shake the insult as opportunity offered her every advantage and still she prevaricated. Fiona and Leonard were seated beside each other. Aunt Kate had taken her place at the opposite end of the table allowing Wilhelmina the ability to speak unhindered, and she’d mastered her rearrangement of the place cards with recognizable success. What little interference Lord Dashwood perpetrated did not bear on the result, yet she sat frozen in her seat, unable to articulate any useful conversation, her stomach a jumble of mixed emotion and self-recrimination. She reached for her wine goblet in search of liquid fortification and the action drew his perspicacious attention. A quick flick of her eyes and she was under his midnight-blue scrutiny, entirely unsettled by an unnerving attraction beyond her control.

“Cat have your tongue, Lady Montgomery? You had no trouble reprimanding me earlier.” His voice full of censure, he offered a slow deliberate smile. “Or are you feeling unwell this evening? You’ve been quieter than a church mouse.”

He angled into her and she inclined to meet him, assuaging the jump in her pulse that it was the only way she’d be able to hear his smoky murmur. Still his sudden attention and private questions jarred her hold on the wine glass, the stem tilting to the left as her arm jerked to prevent spillage, her charm bracelet jingling with applause against the china dinner plate. It was no small miracle she saved herself from further blunder. Determined not to appear clumsy once again, Wilhelmina flashed him an impatient look and mustered her best no-nonsense tone. “Not at all, Lord Dashwood. I’m simply enjoying my meal and the fine company of friends. It is the reason for accepting Lady Collingsworth’s invitation, is it not?” She hoped her judicial reply would curtail his curiosity and allow her heart to resume a normal rhythm.

“That does not explain your tampering with the place settings. I must admit, you’ve presented me with a puzzle I cannot solve.”

He delivered a vague look of disapproval although a mischievous glint sparked his eyes. She already thought him handsome, but with the candlelight glow casting a sheen to his just-a-little-too-long hairstyle and the elegant angle of his body leaned ever so slightly toward her person, Wilhelmina had trouble breathing. How would she ever concentrate on the matter at hand with this strong, deliciously smelling man beside her?

It was as though her senses were acutely aware of his every nuance and that singular thought, that she was attracted to Lord Dashwood, when she’d never taken a particular interest in any one gentleman, was enough to dry the quick retort on her tongue.

When Lord Fielding had described Dashwood’s country home as palatial, she’d turned an attentive ear. The earl’s wealth exceeded her imaginings, not that she’d had any designs on her prospects, but all information proved useful. Perhaps someday in the near future a concerned mother would contact her for matchmaking of lofty proportions. It served her well to know all eligible bachelors, most especially one entailed to an earldom.