right? Did her sister . . . dislike her? Resent her?
The way Kate, as much as she adored Bianca, resented her, as well?
Not that she’d ever say as much. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that she had been the one to find their mother, to be there when their mother died. But . . . she’d had their mother’s love during her life and then . . . she’d been the last one to see her. While Kate had been off crying by the stream to Peter.
She forced a laugh to break the awkward silence. To stop them all from looking at her almost expectantly. “At chess, I suppose this is true.”
Lindley stood, offered her his arm. “I, too, prefer to win. Perhaps we have just enough time for a turn about the garden?”
Her smile this time was genuine. And grateful. Though she refused to allow that last emotion to show, for it would reveal that there was something amiss. That she had needed saving.
C HAPTER N INE
----
T he evening was lively and the drawing room full of people, with both the guests staying at Hopford in attendance and also a handful of the neighbors. It was clear from the moment Peter and Reggie entered the house that all the unmarried ladies were cognizant that a duke was among them. It both amused Kate and irritated her.
Not that she could say why it irritated her.
Or rather she could, but she didn’t wish to acknowledge, even to herself, that Peter’s attention the last few days had made her feel somewhat territorial.
For now, she simply ignored him. Or pretended to. As usual, Peter was quite difficult to actually ignore. First of all, he had this presence, strong and serious, as if he could take on the world and protect her from it. It had been with him even as a young man and had become more pronounced after his return from the Continent. Secondly, she still remembered that day, four years ago. She hadn’t yet been to London, was still naïve and impressionable when it came to men. And third, she was currently aggravated with him. She had desperately wanted to rescind his invitation, not that she truly could without creating far too many problems. It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t wanted him to attend, as that she had wanted to find some way to . . . to aggravate him back.
Just as she always had in London.
T he drawing room was filled with more than a dozen people, all chatting in the minutes before going in to dinner.
Peter was a bit shocked to see Luc as one of the party, albeit in the lowly position of impoverished tutor. He knew the Mansfields were famously informal when it came to their servants, an idiosyncrasy that many, including Peter’s late father, considered a sign of how recently the family had moved from trade into landed gentry. However, Luc was certainly risking much to play his game of pretend in front of so many people who might identify him. Even if he had been abroad for the last two years, surely he would be known. He was a viscount, after all, and viscounts, future earls, did not grow on trees.
But tonight that was not Peter’s problem. Tonight, all he wanted was a moment in which he could speak privately with Kate. In which he could make his apology for his insensitivity the day before. Ease the tension that had risen between them once more.
Over the last handful of days he had started to do what he had never expected, begun to like Kate Mansfield.
He maneuvered his way back to her side, sidestepping conversations to the best of his ability. He reached her just as dinner was announced. Just as he would be expected, as the male of highest rank, to lead her stepmother into dinner.
Lord Lindley was by her side, as well, with a rather territorial smile on his face, as if he already knew Kate was his.
“Good evening, Miss Mansfield. Lindley.”
“Your Grace,” Kate said with the thinnest of smiles, making it clear the apology would indeed be necessary. “It is always a pleasure to see you at Hopford.”
She made the word pleasure sound anything but.
“The
The way Kate, as much as she adored Bianca, resented her, as well?
Not that she’d ever say as much. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that she had been the one to find their mother, to be there when their mother died. But . . . she’d had their mother’s love during her life and then . . . she’d been the last one to see her. While Kate had been off crying by the stream to Peter.
She forced a laugh to break the awkward silence. To stop them all from looking at her almost expectantly. “At chess, I suppose this is true.”
Lindley stood, offered her his arm. “I, too, prefer to win. Perhaps we have just enough time for a turn about the garden?”
Her smile this time was genuine. And grateful. Though she refused to allow that last emotion to show, for it would reveal that there was something amiss. That she had needed saving.
C HAPTER N INE
----
T he evening was lively and the drawing room full of people, with both the guests staying at Hopford in attendance and also a handful of the neighbors. It was clear from the moment Peter and Reggie entered the house that all the unmarried ladies were cognizant that a duke was among them. It both amused Kate and irritated her.
Not that she could say why it irritated her.
Or rather she could, but she didn’t wish to acknowledge, even to herself, that Peter’s attention the last few days had made her feel somewhat territorial.
For now, she simply ignored him. Or pretended to. As usual, Peter was quite difficult to actually ignore. First of all, he had this presence, strong and serious, as if he could take on the world and protect her from it. It had been with him even as a young man and had become more pronounced after his return from the Continent. Secondly, she still remembered that day, four years ago. She hadn’t yet been to London, was still naïve and impressionable when it came to men. And third, she was currently aggravated with him. She had desperately wanted to rescind his invitation, not that she truly could without creating far too many problems. It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t wanted him to attend, as that she had wanted to find some way to . . . to aggravate him back.
Just as she always had in London.
T he drawing room was filled with more than a dozen people, all chatting in the minutes before going in to dinner.
Peter was a bit shocked to see Luc as one of the party, albeit in the lowly position of impoverished tutor. He knew the Mansfields were famously informal when it came to their servants, an idiosyncrasy that many, including Peter’s late father, considered a sign of how recently the family had moved from trade into landed gentry. However, Luc was certainly risking much to play his game of pretend in front of so many people who might identify him. Even if he had been abroad for the last two years, surely he would be known. He was a viscount, after all, and viscounts, future earls, did not grow on trees.
But tonight that was not Peter’s problem. Tonight, all he wanted was a moment in which he could speak privately with Kate. In which he could make his apology for his insensitivity the day before. Ease the tension that had risen between them once more.
Over the last handful of days he had started to do what he had never expected, begun to like Kate Mansfield.
He maneuvered his way back to her side, sidestepping conversations to the best of his ability. He reached her just as dinner was announced. Just as he would be expected, as the male of highest rank, to lead her stepmother into dinner.
Lord Lindley was by her side, as well, with a rather territorial smile on his face, as if he already knew Kate was his.
“Good evening, Miss Mansfield. Lindley.”
“Your Grace,” Kate said with the thinnest of smiles, making it clear the apology would indeed be necessary. “It is always a pleasure to see you at Hopford.”
She made the word pleasure sound anything but.
“The
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