“Ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is served.”
Mr. Bradford bowed to Elise and moved to another lady he’d been assigned to escort into the dining room.
“It appears I have the happy privilege of escorting you to dinner, Mrs. Berkley.”
She looked up into Mr. Amesbury’s eyes. He’d reconstructed his mask of careless charm, his self-possession firmly in place.
She shot a scathing glare at Lily for pairing her with Mr. Amesbury for dinner, but her friend smiled in satisfaction. Resigned, Elise placed her hand on his offered arm, again struck by his strength and that world-weariness about his face.
Those moments of vulnerability she’d seen in him moments ago in the garden had touched her inner needs to soothe and comfort. She wanted to learn his secrets, heal his hurts.
But that would be unwise, considering she had no desire to risk placing herself under the thumb of a man.
He smiled. “Are you trying to divine my thoughts?”
“I’m not sure I dare venture into such dangerous territory.”
Softly chuckling, he led her to the dining room, following the other guests according to rank and precedence, and pulled out her chair for her before taking his place at her right. Lord Druesdale sat at her left. Directly across from her sat the young widower, Mr. Bradford. She felt like a fish in a glass bowl on display for a dozen hungry cats.
Mr. Amesbury settled next to her looking amused and satisfied. As servants brought each course, Elise concentrated on her food and tried to politely include both gentlemen next to her, so as not to show any favoritism. She did not wish to give any sign that might be misconstrued as preference.
A guest sitting further down the table caught her attention. Lord Von Barondy, a viscount, was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and sharp, darting eyes. Though he and his wife were respectable members of the community, Elise found them both terrible boors.
“Yes, I suppose I have had a run of good luck,” the viscount said, his chest puffing out. “It’s nothing terribly magical, really, just a series of good business investments. I fear I have a weakness for spoiling my lovely wife.” He glanced at the lady beside him.
His wife, several years younger and wearing an enormous diamond and ruby necklace, smiled at him. He looked fondly at her, and Elise felt a pang in her heart. Her own dear husband had looked at her that way in rare, tender moments. Elise redirected her gaze to her plate and unclenched her hand.
“I wish I knew your secret,” Mr. Bradford replied.
The viscount’s wife fidgeted with her necklace with several bejeweled fingers as she ate, as if assuring herself all remained in place.
Von Barondy waved a hand magnanimously toward the other guests. “Let us not bore the ladies present with business. We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Besides, you don’t expect me to reveal all my methods for success, do you?”
Mr. Amesbury kept his focus upon his plate, giving no indication that he neither heard the exchange nor was even aware of the speakers. Yet, something about his stylishly bored manner gave her pause. It seemed too deliberate.
She frowned. Deliberate stylish boredom? She watched him with greater focus. He gripped his fork tight enough to whiten his fingertips. An alert stillness suggested he knew at that very moment the precise location of everyone in the room and the topics they discussed.
He glanced at her. His eyes widened briefly in surprise at her unabashed stare. A mischievous grin slid into place. Then his eyes took on a rakish glint.
“Having trouble keeping your eyes off me, eh, Mrs. Berkley?” he murmured in a voice only she would hear.
She shot him a quick glare.
One corner of his mouth lifted before he turned to speak to Mrs. Carson sitting to his other side, his voice calm, his demeanor relaxed.
Elise shrugged off the foolish notion that he’d been so tense. She must have imagined it. After all, she’d not kept the company of gentlemen
Mr. Bradford bowed to Elise and moved to another lady he’d been assigned to escort into the dining room.
“It appears I have the happy privilege of escorting you to dinner, Mrs. Berkley.”
She looked up into Mr. Amesbury’s eyes. He’d reconstructed his mask of careless charm, his self-possession firmly in place.
She shot a scathing glare at Lily for pairing her with Mr. Amesbury for dinner, but her friend smiled in satisfaction. Resigned, Elise placed her hand on his offered arm, again struck by his strength and that world-weariness about his face.
Those moments of vulnerability she’d seen in him moments ago in the garden had touched her inner needs to soothe and comfort. She wanted to learn his secrets, heal his hurts.
But that would be unwise, considering she had no desire to risk placing herself under the thumb of a man.
He smiled. “Are you trying to divine my thoughts?”
“I’m not sure I dare venture into such dangerous territory.”
Softly chuckling, he led her to the dining room, following the other guests according to rank and precedence, and pulled out her chair for her before taking his place at her right. Lord Druesdale sat at her left. Directly across from her sat the young widower, Mr. Bradford. She felt like a fish in a glass bowl on display for a dozen hungry cats.
Mr. Amesbury settled next to her looking amused and satisfied. As servants brought each course, Elise concentrated on her food and tried to politely include both gentlemen next to her, so as not to show any favoritism. She did not wish to give any sign that might be misconstrued as preference.
A guest sitting further down the table caught her attention. Lord Von Barondy, a viscount, was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and sharp, darting eyes. Though he and his wife were respectable members of the community, Elise found them both terrible boors.
“Yes, I suppose I have had a run of good luck,” the viscount said, his chest puffing out. “It’s nothing terribly magical, really, just a series of good business investments. I fear I have a weakness for spoiling my lovely wife.” He glanced at the lady beside him.
His wife, several years younger and wearing an enormous diamond and ruby necklace, smiled at him. He looked fondly at her, and Elise felt a pang in her heart. Her own dear husband had looked at her that way in rare, tender moments. Elise redirected her gaze to her plate and unclenched her hand.
“I wish I knew your secret,” Mr. Bradford replied.
The viscount’s wife fidgeted with her necklace with several bejeweled fingers as she ate, as if assuring herself all remained in place.
Von Barondy waved a hand magnanimously toward the other guests. “Let us not bore the ladies present with business. We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Besides, you don’t expect me to reveal all my methods for success, do you?”
Mr. Amesbury kept his focus upon his plate, giving no indication that he neither heard the exchange nor was even aware of the speakers. Yet, something about his stylishly bored manner gave her pause. It seemed too deliberate.
She frowned. Deliberate stylish boredom? She watched him with greater focus. He gripped his fork tight enough to whiten his fingertips. An alert stillness suggested he knew at that very moment the precise location of everyone in the room and the topics they discussed.
He glanced at her. His eyes widened briefly in surprise at her unabashed stare. A mischievous grin slid into place. Then his eyes took on a rakish glint.
“Having trouble keeping your eyes off me, eh, Mrs. Berkley?” he murmured in a voice only she would hear.
She shot him a quick glare.
One corner of his mouth lifted before he turned to speak to Mrs. Carson sitting to his other side, his voice calm, his demeanor relaxed.
Elise shrugged off the foolish notion that he’d been so tense. She must have imagined it. After all, she’d not kept the company of gentlemen
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