lacing his words.
The marquess centered his gaze on Henrietta. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of an evening stroll, chaperoned of course, with a lady of our choice.”
Why was he staring at her? Should he not be diverting his attention to her sister, who, along with Miss Saxton and Lady Isabella clapped their hands together, their mouths stretched wide with smiles.
“An excellent idea,” squealed Miss Saxton.
“Yes.” The earl’s gaze followed that of the marquess’s. Henrietta’s breath caught, her entire body tingling from his intense glare. So befuddled was she that she almost missed him adding, “And one I shall agree to, should you carry the frog to the kitchens, while the rest of us distract the cook.”
“A generous idea, but who will validate Lord Satterfield’s claim?” asked Sarah. “Someone must assist him to make certain he does not weigh the scales in his favor.”
“I do not cheat,” said the marquess, his boyish smile contradicting the solemnity of his words.
“A valid point, my lady,” uttered Mr. Livingston. “I will accompany Lord Satterfield and make certain his measurements are fair.”
“As will I.” Albina’s face beamed with excitement. “I know the location of the scale, as well as the servant’s entrance to the kitchens. I can lead the entourage without attracting attention.”
“Chaperoned, of course,” added Sarah. “By Miss Saxton’s aunt, perhaps?”
Miss Saxton’s young widowed aunt was the most forgiving, playful chaperone of those present. If anyone were to give their approval to the silly and risky venture, it would be her.
“My aunt would be more than delighted. I am certain of it, especially with the stakes being as favorable as they are.” Miss Saxton batted her eyes at the earl.
Remnants of luncheon soured on Henrietta’s tongue.
She bit the inside of her cheek. This would not do. At all. She needed to be the earl’s selection, strolling alongside him in one of the fragrant gardens surrounding the castle, not Miss Saxton with her perfect elocution.
Plumburn and its frog-infested marshes were at stake.
She had to do something to turn things in her favor. Something to gain his attention, to make him forget the other ladies present and select Henrietta as his prize for winning a wager literally weighed in his favor.
But as to what that elusive thing was, she was uncertain.
“Well, then, let us not stand about here fighting the flies, but head to Plumburn’s kitchens. Satterfield, if you would,” said the earl. He nodded toward the slick-looking frog croaking on its perch.
“Ah, yes of course.” For all his boasting and earlier eagerness, the marquess was hesitant in his approach, eyeing the frog with an obvious look of disgust. His gaze flicked between his white gloved hands and the slime-covered amphibian. “Well, I, well…let’s see here. I suppose I just—”
“Lift him,” Sarah said. “You lift him with one hand on each side, so as to prevent him from jumping into the water.”
Henrietta tasted blood, so hard was she biting on her cheek to prevent the peals of laughter from escaping her mouth.
“Yes, quite right,” said the marquess. “Excellent advice.”
“Would you like some assistance?” asked the earl, his amusement at the marquess’s discomfort evident in his voice. “Or shall we stand here until dinner arrives?”
Lord Satterfield shot the earl a dark look, but removed his gloves and handed them to Mr. Livingston. “There is nothing to it. I was simply determining the best approach.” He leaned down and clasped the frog, the creature croaking his disdain.
“I don’t believe you have a sporting chance, Amhurst.” The marquess lifted the frog and held it at arm’s length. “He is easily the two stones I originally estimated.”
“Then let us prove your superior intellect. Lady Albina, we are at your direction, for I fear I am hopelessly lost.” The earl bowed to her sister, who
The marquess centered his gaze on Henrietta. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of an evening stroll, chaperoned of course, with a lady of our choice.”
Why was he staring at her? Should he not be diverting his attention to her sister, who, along with Miss Saxton and Lady Isabella clapped their hands together, their mouths stretched wide with smiles.
“An excellent idea,” squealed Miss Saxton.
“Yes.” The earl’s gaze followed that of the marquess’s. Henrietta’s breath caught, her entire body tingling from his intense glare. So befuddled was she that she almost missed him adding, “And one I shall agree to, should you carry the frog to the kitchens, while the rest of us distract the cook.”
“A generous idea, but who will validate Lord Satterfield’s claim?” asked Sarah. “Someone must assist him to make certain he does not weigh the scales in his favor.”
“I do not cheat,” said the marquess, his boyish smile contradicting the solemnity of his words.
“A valid point, my lady,” uttered Mr. Livingston. “I will accompany Lord Satterfield and make certain his measurements are fair.”
“As will I.” Albina’s face beamed with excitement. “I know the location of the scale, as well as the servant’s entrance to the kitchens. I can lead the entourage without attracting attention.”
“Chaperoned, of course,” added Sarah. “By Miss Saxton’s aunt, perhaps?”
Miss Saxton’s young widowed aunt was the most forgiving, playful chaperone of those present. If anyone were to give their approval to the silly and risky venture, it would be her.
“My aunt would be more than delighted. I am certain of it, especially with the stakes being as favorable as they are.” Miss Saxton batted her eyes at the earl.
Remnants of luncheon soured on Henrietta’s tongue.
She bit the inside of her cheek. This would not do. At all. She needed to be the earl’s selection, strolling alongside him in one of the fragrant gardens surrounding the castle, not Miss Saxton with her perfect elocution.
Plumburn and its frog-infested marshes were at stake.
She had to do something to turn things in her favor. Something to gain his attention, to make him forget the other ladies present and select Henrietta as his prize for winning a wager literally weighed in his favor.
But as to what that elusive thing was, she was uncertain.
“Well, then, let us not stand about here fighting the flies, but head to Plumburn’s kitchens. Satterfield, if you would,” said the earl. He nodded toward the slick-looking frog croaking on its perch.
“Ah, yes of course.” For all his boasting and earlier eagerness, the marquess was hesitant in his approach, eyeing the frog with an obvious look of disgust. His gaze flicked between his white gloved hands and the slime-covered amphibian. “Well, I, well…let’s see here. I suppose I just—”
“Lift him,” Sarah said. “You lift him with one hand on each side, so as to prevent him from jumping into the water.”
Henrietta tasted blood, so hard was she biting on her cheek to prevent the peals of laughter from escaping her mouth.
“Yes, quite right,” said the marquess. “Excellent advice.”
“Would you like some assistance?” asked the earl, his amusement at the marquess’s discomfort evident in his voice. “Or shall we stand here until dinner arrives?”
Lord Satterfield shot the earl a dark look, but removed his gloves and handed them to Mr. Livingston. “There is nothing to it. I was simply determining the best approach.” He leaned down and clasped the frog, the creature croaking his disdain.
“I don’t believe you have a sporting chance, Amhurst.” The marquess lifted the frog and held it at arm’s length. “He is easily the two stones I originally estimated.”
“Then let us prove your superior intellect. Lady Albina, we are at your direction, for I fear I am hopelessly lost.” The earl bowed to her sister, who
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