“A pleasure to meet you all,” Stephen said with what appeared to be genuine feeling, bowing.
Dorothy curtsied and began to fidget, pulling at the sleeves of her gown. It was silk, and well-made, but incredibly uncomfortable and itchy. She did not know how she was supposed to stand still when wearing something this itchy.
“Now, dinner is ready, I see. Come, come, come,” Lady Webster said again, beckoning them all forward like a clucking mother hen.
Minutes later, Dorothy was seated at the dining table with Stephen beside her, and Lady Frederica sat opposite them, with Viscount Chilmond on her other side.
When the food was served, Dorothy reached for her fork and knife on the table, only to feel Stephen grab her elbow subtly.
“Ow, what are you doing?” she whispered.
“That can’t have hurt.”
“Want a bet?”
“We toast first,” he said simply out of the side of his mouth as a hush fell over the room.
“What?”
He shot her a look, the kind that told her she was embarrassing him again. Dorothy looked at Lady Frederica and Lady Charlotte. Seeing that they both had raised their glasses as Lord Webster stood to make a toast, Dorothy did the same.
Dorothy barely listened to the toast. She was aware of Lord Webster thanking them all for their presence and toasting his wife for bringing them all together for this month’s worth of events to celebrate the coming of spring and the Season’s beginning.
What she was much more acutely aware of, though, was the fact that Stephen was no longer looking at Lord Webster. She turned her head, as little as she could, to see where he was looking.
Lady Frederica.
His eyes were on the blonde-haired beauty, and Dorothy felt a curling anger in her gut. She put it down to their bet. Oh, no, this would never do. If he was going to capture the eye of someone like Lady Frederica, what chance did Dorothy have of winning their bet?
She didn’t doubt for one minute that Lady Frederica would be ensnared by Stephen’s high manners and handsome face. Anyone had to be blind not to see his intense eyes.
They clinked their glasses together and drank. Dorothy watched Stephen at her side, judging which knife and fork to pick up, and copying him constantly. He gave no sign of being aware of what she did, for instead, he had struck up a conversation with Lady Frederica.
“Have you come far on your journey today?”
“From London,” Lady Frederica replied, not quite meeting his gaze and looking shyly down at her plate.
“How was your journey?”
“Fair enough.” She looked up at last, offering a timid smile. “Quite long, but the country has so much beauty to offer, so it was worth it.”
“I quite agree.” Stephen looked straight at Lady Frederica as he spoke.
The flirtation was so obvious that Dorothy dropped her fork. It clattered against her plate, and many people at the table started around her. She mumbled an apology and picked up her fork again, feeling her face redden like the skin of a tomato.
I cannot let this happen.
“How far have you come?” Lady Frederica continued their conversation, and Dorothy saw an opportunity to interject.
“We came from Kent,” Dorothy chimed in. “Though I pray you, do not ask how he fared on our journey. He is a rather unhappy traveling companion. He is fond of complaining, you see? Well, I suppose he enjoys it, in truth. Never happy unless you’re complaining, aren’t you?”
Lady Frederica and Lady Charlotte laughed at this. Seeing she had a ready audience, Dorothy struck up a conversation with the pair of them, pulling them into jests and asking them about themselves. Soon, Dorothy was so caught up in the conversation between the three of them that it took her a while to realize Stephen hadn’t spoken for some time.
As the dessert wine was poured, she looked around to find his intense blue gaze upon her again.
“What?” she whispered as the servers walked past with the carafe. “Unhappy, Stephen?”
He said nothing, and his intense gaze grew angry, indeed.
