Perhaps his mind was just scrambled because of Mimi. All of their encounters were laden with conflict. They rubbed each other the wrong way. He went up, and she went down. Uh…that was a weird way of saying it. Regardless, they were like oil and water. They were too competitive with themselves and others to be of any good to each other. She was loud and independent, and he was…well, he was just selfish. He didn’t want to be with anyone, so why the hell was he putting so much thought into it? She pulled him one way or the other and stretched his patience. So really, because he knew she was at this house party rather unchaperoned, all he needed to do was make sure she didn’t do any irreparable damage around him. She was a friend of sorts after all.
Now, the question was…who would she be more likely to do that irreparable damage to? Herself or others? Because it certainly wouldn’t be done to Sam. He was much too conscientious and callous to let a little thing like her affect him in any negative way. She wasn’t reckless, so if anything, she would do damage to herself. And based on everything he knew about her so far, that damage would likely be made against her reputation. So yes, he had his work cut out for him since she had no one else to look out for her.
“What the devil was that about?” Chris asked as the two entered the drawing room for tea. It was about time to join the house party and see a few guests, namely their host.
“I have no idea,” Sam replied, rubbing his hand. There was no pain in it from the arm wrestling. Arm wrestle? He was still in a state of shock that he had arm wrestled a woman. Well, it was less of an arm wrestle and more of a show. He knew he was goingto win. He easily sized up her biceps before the activity had even been suggested.
“Did she think she could beat you?” Chris’s face was half writ with concern and curiosity.
“I doubt it.”
“Then why did she suggest it?”
“She’s an oddity. That’s for sure.” Oddity. That wasn’t even the right word to describe her. She was uniquely her. No apologies. No shame. And often no explanations.
Sam entered the room, immediately taking notice of several guests milling about. Sally, their hostess’s daughter, was drinking tea in the middle of a pack of eager single ladies. Yes. There was a caution sign sticking out of the dirt right in front of that section of the room.
Note to Sam, avoid that coterie at all costs. He could hear the honey dripping from the lips as they asked about wedding plans, if the groomsmen were bachelors (which they were supposed to be), and as a side note, what flowers she had decided upon. If he didn’t feel obligated as a friend to be at the wedding, he wouldn’t be attending. He didn’t even plan on attending a wedding of his own, why would he want to attend someone else’s?
Sam’s eyes continued their prowl of the room and landed on the Duke of Vanic. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen Roger.” There was a man who was another oddity of sorts, but in a completely different way. How did one describe Roger? Usually one would start with a person’s unique attributes…well, that was part of the problem. Roger was the epitome of average or commonplace. Conversation with him could be stilted…or boring at best. But anything beat wedding talk.
“Let’s greet the old boy,” Chris agreed, taking steps toward the mantelpiece where Roger was resting his hand.
“Vanic, where does a man find a good drink in here?”
Roger nodded to the footman who had just entered the room carrying a tray. “Thank God, not everyone is here for tea.”
Chris snagged two glasses and shared one with Sam.
Ah, yes…and there was the silence. The awkwardness. Roger sipped his drink looking at nothing in particular. Probably thinking of nothing in particular. And for those reasons, Sam had nothing in particular he wanted to say to the man.
Alas, his options were limited. Roger had always been the man that was invited for the indiscreet purpose of making up numbers, and of course, he was a duke, so that always helped. The man was amiable enough…but was being amiable enough really what a person strove for in life? The man walked around like the color beige. Noticeable only if one was looking for beige, otherwise he blended into his surroundings.
And then he remembered one thing about Vanic that was mildly interesting.
“How’s your hand been at archery? Any tournaments of late?”
The small twitch of Roger’s eyebrow indicated his attention had shifted to Sam. From what…he wasn’t sure.
“I’m always practicing. No tournaments recently. But hopefully soon.”
That was a little bit more than Sam expected, but much less than a man would hope for in a conversation.
“What kind of bow do you use?”
“Same as always.”
Yes…there was the enthralling conversation, free flowing…Just when Sam thought he would have to think of more to ask, Roger supplied more information.
“Bought an incredible quiver the other day. Last of its kind. I’m hoping to break it in soon.” His eyes almost shone as he spoke about his purchase.
But then no questions were asked to either Sam or Chris. This was definitely a one-sided effort.
Sam took another sip of his drink letting Chris pick up the riveting dialogue. The slight burn tickled its way down his throat, and a prickling sensation crept up the back of his neck. He let his eyes roam the room again and caught sight of Mimi. She was staring at him. Curious, that.
He had never caught her gaze on him like this before. He shifted on his feet and transferred his glass to his other hand. Wanting to look away but not out of discomfort, he held her stare for a second longer. Then another. When her eyes didn’t flicker, he realized the truth. She wasn’t staring at him, she was studying Roger.
Roger, Duke of Vanic, had captured her attention. The most wild, opinionated woman that he knew was ogling the most boring, underwhelming man of his acquaintance.
