without attracting the slightest notice.
Oscar padded ahead of her, turning once to make sure she was following. As her feet hit the steps—one, two, one, two—she shaped her lips into an aloof, don’t-talk-to-me smile. But halfway down the stairs, where they began the sweeping curve to the entrance hall, she caught sight of her father shaking hands with a man she recognized.
John Pageter. She paused for a moment, wondering if this encounter ought to be postponed. She was far from looking her best, and it would be less awkward for the both of them if they met without her father looking on.
She studied his face, brown from the South African sun, his well-formed nose and square chin combining to produce an effect that was both strong and sweetly pleasant. She remembered him as kind and a trifle shy with women. He had certainly been shy in her company.
With the awareness of a soldier who had come under scrutiny, he glanced up the staircase and caught her gaze. Immediately his lips widened into a smile, a friendly smile, no trace of a hidden purpose in it.
More at ease now, she continued down the stairs and moved to her father’s side. Near the front door Geeson was accepting hat and gloves from another guest, but with Pageter blocking her view, she could see nothing but a set of wide shoulders.
Pageter’s brown eyes were warm as he bowed to her. “Lord Sothingdon has been kind enough to welcome an additional guest,” he said, “a friend I quite improperly invited to accompany me to High Tor. In my defense, he has a slight connection with the family. I believe, Lady Jessica, that you are acquainted with him.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Pageter continued speaking as he moved aside and beckoned to the other gentleman, but she knew already who he must be. Cold with dread, she raised her head and gave Duran a haughty look as he made his bow to her father, and then to her.
She had expected a look of triumph, or at least the familiar mocking amusement in his eyes. But he only greeted her pleasantly—a polite murmur of her name, no more—before returning his attention to the earl.
Pageter made the introductions, praising Duran’s skill with a gun as if that were sufficient justification for his intrusion into a party where he’d not been invited. She longed to slap the both of them.
Duran silenced Pageter with a wave of his hand. “It is unpardonable of me to descend on you without an invitation, Lord Sothingdon. I seem to have left my manners in India. There was good hunting there, of course, but I missed the pleasures of tramping the English countryside in pursuit of partridge and grouse. When Pageter told me that he was off for several weeks to do precisely that, the temptation to impose on him—and on you—was overwhelming.”
Jessica could practically feel her father dissolving under Duran’s flattery. He always played the right notes, the ones that appealed to his victim’s pride or favorite hobbyhorse. That tribute to English shooting parties had won the earl’s heart in an instant.
“Well, well, I’m glad to have you here,” he said gruffly. “A good time for it, what? Pageter has told me that you know my daughter.”
Duran spared her a polite glance. “Only very slightly, I’m afraid. We met a number of years ago at one of those overcrowded London parties. I expect the charming Lady Jessica has no recollection of me at all.”
“My lamentable memory,” she said coolly, wondering if she imagined a flash of humor in his eyes.
“Lord Sothingdon,” he said, turning back to his host, “I hope you will do me the honor of accepting a token of my gratitude for your hospitality. While I was purchasing a gun—several of them, I must confess—at Joseph Manton’s establishment, I asked him to select one that you might approve for yourself.”
Duran made a gesture, and two men approached from the shadows.
Jessica, who had failed to notice them, was as astonished as the earl when they
Oscar padded ahead of her, turning once to make sure she was following. As her feet hit the steps—one, two, one, two—she shaped her lips into an aloof, don’t-talk-to-me smile. But halfway down the stairs, where they began the sweeping curve to the entrance hall, she caught sight of her father shaking hands with a man she recognized.
John Pageter. She paused for a moment, wondering if this encounter ought to be postponed. She was far from looking her best, and it would be less awkward for the both of them if they met without her father looking on.
She studied his face, brown from the South African sun, his well-formed nose and square chin combining to produce an effect that was both strong and sweetly pleasant. She remembered him as kind and a trifle shy with women. He had certainly been shy in her company.
With the awareness of a soldier who had come under scrutiny, he glanced up the staircase and caught her gaze. Immediately his lips widened into a smile, a friendly smile, no trace of a hidden purpose in it.
More at ease now, she continued down the stairs and moved to her father’s side. Near the front door Geeson was accepting hat and gloves from another guest, but with Pageter blocking her view, she could see nothing but a set of wide shoulders.
Pageter’s brown eyes were warm as he bowed to her. “Lord Sothingdon has been kind enough to welcome an additional guest,” he said, “a friend I quite improperly invited to accompany me to High Tor. In my defense, he has a slight connection with the family. I believe, Lady Jessica, that you are acquainted with him.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Pageter continued speaking as he moved aside and beckoned to the other gentleman, but she knew already who he must be. Cold with dread, she raised her head and gave Duran a haughty look as he made his bow to her father, and then to her.
She had expected a look of triumph, or at least the familiar mocking amusement in his eyes. But he only greeted her pleasantly—a polite murmur of her name, no more—before returning his attention to the earl.
Pageter made the introductions, praising Duran’s skill with a gun as if that were sufficient justification for his intrusion into a party where he’d not been invited. She longed to slap the both of them.
Duran silenced Pageter with a wave of his hand. “It is unpardonable of me to descend on you without an invitation, Lord Sothingdon. I seem to have left my manners in India. There was good hunting there, of course, but I missed the pleasures of tramping the English countryside in pursuit of partridge and grouse. When Pageter told me that he was off for several weeks to do precisely that, the temptation to impose on him—and on you—was overwhelming.”
Jessica could practically feel her father dissolving under Duran’s flattery. He always played the right notes, the ones that appealed to his victim’s pride or favorite hobbyhorse. That tribute to English shooting parties had won the earl’s heart in an instant.
“Well, well, I’m glad to have you here,” he said gruffly. “A good time for it, what? Pageter has told me that you know my daughter.”
Duran spared her a polite glance. “Only very slightly, I’m afraid. We met a number of years ago at one of those overcrowded London parties. I expect the charming Lady Jessica has no recollection of me at all.”
“My lamentable memory,” she said coolly, wondering if she imagined a flash of humor in his eyes.
“Lord Sothingdon,” he said, turning back to his host, “I hope you will do me the honor of accepting a token of my gratitude for your hospitality. While I was purchasing a gun—several of them, I must confess—at Joseph Manton’s establishment, I asked him to select one that you might approve for yourself.”
Duran made a gesture, and two men approached from the shadows.
Jessica, who had failed to notice them, was as astonished as the earl when they
Similar Books
