toward Westerly, feigning polite interest in the conversation.
He could well imagine the frustration of discovering the man she’d kissed last eve would be married in the fall. If that was what she thought and not his imagination running wild.
Once the carriage lurched to a stop, Westerly helped Kimberly climb down from the step. Miss Bailey stood to follow, and Christopher blocked her path, his actions so quick she nearly bumped into him. A glint of anger brightened her eyes to a lustrous shine as he descended. He winked to his cousin, and Kimberly continued toward the restaurant’s entrance with Westerly in tow, deep in conversation of wedding guests and caterers.
Christopher waited for Miss Bailey. With obvious disappointment, she watched Westerly stroll away. Hesitating briefly, she slid her slim hand into his. She tensed and glanced down at his hand supporting hers.
“Everything all right?” he asked, suppressing the urge to graze his thumb along her fingertips.
“Yes.” Her voice a mite breathy, she tore her gaze away and stepped down from the coach, snatching her hand from his. Whatever terrible thoughts she harbored for him in her lovely head, she stayed by his side as they entered Delmonico’s, one of the finest restaurants in all of New York.
Inside, globe chandeliers hung from a ceiling of polished wood panels. Several potted plants, tucked discreetly about, lent a welcome atmosphere amid the elegant table settings, but nothing could keep his attention from the woman beside him.
Westerly and Kimberly walked some distance ahead to a private table near the back of the restaurant. As they followed, the same subtle scent of sweet, spicy cloves that had tantalized him in the Vanderbilt library invaded his senses. Her strides were swift, her lips locked together and her posture as stiff as a rod, and still she was the most beautiful woman in the room. “Have I angered you in some way? You seem out of sorts.”
She stared straight ahead. “Why did you invite us here?”
“I don’t trust Westerly,” he admitted. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he didn’t like the man. There was just something about him he didn’t care for.
“And you’ve nobly decided to take it upon yourself to act as chaperone?”
Hardly what he’d had in mind, and it rankled that she would now think of him as one. “If you’d brought a proper chaperone yourself I wouldn’t have to. Where is your brother? I thought I might meet him this evening.” Perhaps what she needed was saving from herself.
“It’s none of your concern,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “He had other plans that couldn’t be changed eleventh hour, and I wanted to spend more time with Mr. Westerly. Besides, no one seems to disapprove but you.”
Curse it. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that she preferred Philip Westerly’s company to his own. “Westerly certainly wouldn’t care. I’m sure he’s more than happy to accompany you without a chaperone, all the more opportunity to take advantage. He’s a rake, Miss Bailey, one who will soon move on to greener pastures.”
“Just because you don’t care for him doesn’t mean he and I don’t suit.”
Lowering his voice as curious stares turned their way, he pointed out the obvious, “You must be blind. He’s been a pretentious snob so far this evening.”
“There is nothing wrong with Mr. Westerly’s behavior. It’s you who has gone too far. Really, Mr. Black, leave me be.” She raised her chin and hurried ahead to their table.
He clenched his teeth. Damn, this wasn’t going as he’d planned. Instead of gaining her trust, he was driving her away.
Westerly and Kimberly were already seated at a linen-covered table with gold-rimmed place settings. An eager attendant relieved Miss Bailey of her cape. Westerly made no move to assist her, and she reluctantly accepted the red cushioned chair Christopher offered.
As she sank into her seat, he admired the sleek curve of her
He could well imagine the frustration of discovering the man she’d kissed last eve would be married in the fall. If that was what she thought and not his imagination running wild.
Once the carriage lurched to a stop, Westerly helped Kimberly climb down from the step. Miss Bailey stood to follow, and Christopher blocked her path, his actions so quick she nearly bumped into him. A glint of anger brightened her eyes to a lustrous shine as he descended. He winked to his cousin, and Kimberly continued toward the restaurant’s entrance with Westerly in tow, deep in conversation of wedding guests and caterers.
Christopher waited for Miss Bailey. With obvious disappointment, she watched Westerly stroll away. Hesitating briefly, she slid her slim hand into his. She tensed and glanced down at his hand supporting hers.
“Everything all right?” he asked, suppressing the urge to graze his thumb along her fingertips.
“Yes.” Her voice a mite breathy, she tore her gaze away and stepped down from the coach, snatching her hand from his. Whatever terrible thoughts she harbored for him in her lovely head, she stayed by his side as they entered Delmonico’s, one of the finest restaurants in all of New York.
Inside, globe chandeliers hung from a ceiling of polished wood panels. Several potted plants, tucked discreetly about, lent a welcome atmosphere amid the elegant table settings, but nothing could keep his attention from the woman beside him.
Westerly and Kimberly walked some distance ahead to a private table near the back of the restaurant. As they followed, the same subtle scent of sweet, spicy cloves that had tantalized him in the Vanderbilt library invaded his senses. Her strides were swift, her lips locked together and her posture as stiff as a rod, and still she was the most beautiful woman in the room. “Have I angered you in some way? You seem out of sorts.”
She stared straight ahead. “Why did you invite us here?”
“I don’t trust Westerly,” he admitted. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he didn’t like the man. There was just something about him he didn’t care for.
“And you’ve nobly decided to take it upon yourself to act as chaperone?”
Hardly what he’d had in mind, and it rankled that she would now think of him as one. “If you’d brought a proper chaperone yourself I wouldn’t have to. Where is your brother? I thought I might meet him this evening.” Perhaps what she needed was saving from herself.
“It’s none of your concern,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “He had other plans that couldn’t be changed eleventh hour, and I wanted to spend more time with Mr. Westerly. Besides, no one seems to disapprove but you.”
Curse it. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that she preferred Philip Westerly’s company to his own. “Westerly certainly wouldn’t care. I’m sure he’s more than happy to accompany you without a chaperone, all the more opportunity to take advantage. He’s a rake, Miss Bailey, one who will soon move on to greener pastures.”
“Just because you don’t care for him doesn’t mean he and I don’t suit.”
Lowering his voice as curious stares turned their way, he pointed out the obvious, “You must be blind. He’s been a pretentious snob so far this evening.”
“There is nothing wrong with Mr. Westerly’s behavior. It’s you who has gone too far. Really, Mr. Black, leave me be.” She raised her chin and hurried ahead to their table.
He clenched his teeth. Damn, this wasn’t going as he’d planned. Instead of gaining her trust, he was driving her away.
Westerly and Kimberly were already seated at a linen-covered table with gold-rimmed place settings. An eager attendant relieved Miss Bailey of her cape. Westerly made no move to assist her, and she reluctantly accepted the red cushioned chair Christopher offered.
As she sank into her seat, he admired the sleek curve of her
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