She spent the rest of dinner making the most asinine comments to Roger who answered her with the bare minimum that etiquette required. He didn’t think he would appreciate her attention redirected at Roger, but it was better this way. For now, at least.
Couldn’t she see the disinterest? Why the devil was she trying so hard? She must know that she could have any man in the room. Well, not any man. Not him. Sam wasn’t the marrying type. But any other single man was available for her taking.
The chit needed his help.
And he wanted to help her. If only so he never had to witness such an agonizing interaction again.
“I try to practice every day,” Mimi was still talking.
Finally, Roger looked at her. Not exactly with any admiration, in fact, one would say it was with the opposite of admiration, if bemused curiosity was its opposite.
“You?”
And then Sam realized that Roger hadn’t really been listening at all.
“You consider yourself an archer?” Roger asked. Sam couldn’t interpret if the question was asked with incredulity or derision. But whatever laced his tone caused Mimi to sit a little straighter.
He hoped it was her defensive posture. Or aggressive. That would work just as well. A woman ought to stand up for herself.
But when she spoke, her tone was cheery. As if she were happy to have received even that pathetic amount of attention. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do consider myself an archer. Quite a good one. In fact earlier today, with no—”
“Roger,” Sam interrupted out of desperation, realizing where Mimi was taking the conversation. Yes, a woman ought to stand up for himself, but not at the cost of his dignity. “We shall play a game of piquet later this evening.” It was rude to interrupt. It was more rude to speak over Mimi to a guest that wasn’t to Sam’s immediate left or right, but he didn’t care. A change of topic was of the essence. Thank God Roger noticed nothing (again) and eased into a new conversation.
One might think Sam acted out of desperation for his pride. And yes, his dignity was on the line a little bit. (A lot). But even more urgent than this pride was an instinct to protect. That might be putting it too strongly. It was more of an instinct to help. Roger was not the type of man to be interested in a competitive woman. He liked his women passive. If Mimi wanted Roger—which for some asinine reason she did—then Sam would have to consider helping her. That, or be witness toher pitiful attempts at seduction. He could help her get the man she wanted.
Yes. Help. But only if she asked would he help. He wouldn’t just go about offering advice to someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.
He could help. It was instinctual. The exact opposite of his father. And so long as he never married, he would keep his own healthy instincts intact forever.
Chapter Seven
Well, that wasa success of sorts. After dinner, Mimi was in the drawing room with Nobi while the men had port together. This period of time in the evening could either be an awkward time, when women engaged in contemplations or worse, small talk, until the men reappeared. Or it could be rich with gossip. This particular evening fell somewhere in between, and she was only too glad to have Nobi around to share conversation.
It was still so fresh to her that she didn’t have Boudicca and Joan around. Boudicca being away, and Joan…well, Joan had found a way to always be sneaking off with James during this house party. Soon enough, they would be knee deep in honeymoon season, but for now they were enjoying some stolen moments.
Was it weird that Mimi imagined where the two might sneak off? She didn’t care. If it were her, she would want to find a closet or a wardrobe somewhere. Just the idea of being in an enclosed space with limited room to move made her feel a little faint. She could just imagine the crushing of bodies and the urgency she would feel being taken by a tall dark-haired man with a strong jaw… or whomever she was being taken by.
Yes. The wardrobe sounded delicious. Though…come to think of it…out on the grass atop a hill with the chance of being caught…oooh…that sent a thrill up her spine. Not for her first time, but she could envision herself agreeing (easily) to be laid down on a swatch of plush grass with a heavy body heatingher from above. She could almost feel the light prickles from the blade of grass poking her arms. The sky above. Vast. Open. Anything was allowed. Yet the forbiddenness of it, the chance of being caught, that was the additional spark she knew could heat her up. She pictured herself on the hill as a man came into view lying over her. Dark hair, rich brown eyes, thick biceps, yet with a condescending look. It seemed out of place considering Roger had light hair. She couldn’t shake it. The face belonged to someone she knew. Whose face was that that came to her mind—
“Mimi, please tell me what possessed you to wear that dress this evening.” Nobi reached out and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “And your hair…what’s come over you?”
“It’s fate, Nobi,” she said, clasping her hands together against her bosom. Perhaps she was showing more than she ought, but that wasn’t her main concern right now. Right now, she wanted to relish in her relative success. Roger looked at her. Spoke to her. Some words at least. And she was pretty sure she had caught his interest over archery. Now she needed to make a plan for how to connect with him over the activity. Her eyes closed as she began to dream of an archery tournament in which she would go head-to-head with Roger. Who knows who would win…likely her. And when she did, Roger would sweep her up into his arms and carry her off to his—
“Mimi.” Nobi nudged her arm. “Open your eyes. You look ridiculous.”
Without even opening her eyes, Mimi knew her sister was upset with her. It took more than a little annoyance for Nobi to be anything but polite. So she flung her eyelids up and lifted her chin to her sister’s visage.
“I don’t think I look ridiculous, and neither does Roger.”
A deep furrowing of Nobi’s brow indicated her concern, but Mimi knew she had nothing to worry about. So why the look of…oh, was that pity?
Nobi placed a gentle hand on her forearm, “Darling, he didn’t even notice you.”
Well, that was just patently untrue. Her hands transferred from the clasp over her heart to the crossing of arms over her chest. “He did, too.” There. That should show her.
“Mimi, did the man say more than two words to you?”
“He certainly did. In fact, he said more than three.”
