Chapter Nine

I’m sure the food is bloody fantastic, Jamie thought darkly.

Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, and the wine is flowing freely, and yet, I can’t seem to focus on anything but the slip of a girl with the golden hair at the other end of the table, he thought with a slight grimace.

Everyone had arrived at the estate in good time, and Cook had put together a sumptuous feast, of which everyone was partaking, but Jamie seemed to be spending the entire meal carefully avoiding eye contact with Madeline Winchester, who appeared to be having a whale of a time at her place, laughing and chatting with new acquaintances.

He wanted to be acquainted with her, but not in any way appropriate for a dinner party, he thought, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of her spread out on the table linens, lit by candlelight and wearing nothing but a necklace of grapes and a smile.

Wonderful, he thought angrily. Now his breeches were too tight, and still he glowered at his plate, unable to get his mind off the one thing he wanted more than pheasant or a glass of good red: her.

He’d promised himself that upon her arrival, he would be polite and complimentary, but to put a stop to any overtures between them, lest he ignite something he couldn’t find the will to stop.

He knew he was entirely wrong for her, but yet, she was all that occupied his thoughts.

It was damnably irritating, he thought, tossing back another gulp of wine and nearly slamming the glass onto the table.

He then glanced up just as she did, their eyes meeting across the candlelight and china, and he could have sworn he saw some of the same lust filled, emotional, contorted feelings reflected in her eyes that he was sure was in his.

But then again, it could have just been a trick of the light.

Holding her gaze for just a beat too long, he finally looked away, and damn it, he could even feel his cheeks flush a bit at her intensity.

Lord Jameson Carrington did not blush, and certainly not on account of a woman.

Bloody grapes, he thought with another grimace as he shifted to find a more accommodating position for his breeches in his chair.

###

Maddy bit back a smile as she looked back down at her plate, filled to overflowing with a delicious dinner, convinced that she and Jamie – Lord Carrington, she reminded herself – had just shared,what she would call a moment.

She had simply glanced up, and found that he was looking directly at her.

And it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant look either, which was a nice change for him.

In fact, if she had to categorize it, she might say it was smoldering.

That, in and of itself, was miraculous, as he’d not glanced her way once since greeting her earlier in the afternoon. He was open and friendly with the men, solicitous of the women, but with her, he was just absent.

But then there was that gaze across the table…

Which was certainly the best thing that had happened since her arrival earlier that afternoon.

The estate was truly lovely, and Maddy’s room was very comfortably appointed, and the staff attentive and polite. After refreshing herself from the journey, she had taken a turn about the house with Rose by her side, half hoping to run into Jamie for a personal tour of the home, but he was nowhere to be found.

Only to discover he and the other men of the party were already on horseback, scouting the countryside for shooting the following morning, planning to leave the women of the party to their own devices.

So much for that personal tour from the lord of the manor, she thought ruefully.

Disappointed but optimistic, she had hoped to meet up with the men prior to dinner for aperitifs, but that was also not meant to be.

And then, to be seated as far away from Jamie as possible at the dinner table – it was simply maddening.
Still, she was determined to make the best of it.

She and Rose were seated beside each other, as well as Fitz, only a chair away, and they were also introduced to two people not of their acquaintance who were seated beside them – a Lord Maxted, who was nice enough, and a Lady Amelia Drake, the daughter of the Duke of Wrightsbury, who frankly, was not.

First, Miss Drake commented on the “lack of society” at the table, then the lamb was “dreadfully undercooked”, and on top of it all, she seemed to spend entirely too much of her time looking at Jamie with a calculating, proprietary look in her eye.

This wouldn’t do at all, Maddy thought woefully.

Miss Drake was uncommonly pretty, graceful and poised, and frankly, so far above Maddy’s station in society that she may as well be a girl in the scullery than an officer’s widow.

With her long, dark tresses and flawless skin, Miss Drake was a handsome woman, and at only twenty, the perfect age for marrying.

And as a Duke’s daughter, she would be perfectly matched as a wife for someone like Lord Carrington, and Maddy knew it.

And apparently, so did Miss Amelia Drake, judging from the cow eyes she kept making at the man all evening.

And he even had the nerve to meet her gaze, and once, he even smiled.

Other than a chaste kiss on the hand upon her arrival, she’d had no such indication of warmth from him, except for that one smoldering gaze.

Which was probably just a trick of the light, Maddy lamented.

“She’s the coldest fish I’ve met in ages, and I’ve had my share of chilly fish,” Rose whispered, making Maddy giggle slightly, glad to know her friend had assessed their new acquaintance the same as she had.

“She’s not the friendliest, is she?” Maddy replied evenly, and Rose rolled her eyes theatrically. “Perhaps she’s shy?”

“Shy, my foot. She may be the daughter of a duke, but we aren’t exactly harlots or whores in society, are we?” Rose shot back, and Maddy looked at her, mouth agape.

“Rose Rivenhall!”

“What?!” Rose shot back. “I’m just saying… from the look in her eye when she saw us, that was her impression. And that purple gown looks dreadful on her. Someone should point out that purple is not her colour.”

“Oh, do,” Maddy urged, and Rose giggled this time.

“What are you two ladies speaking of?” Fitz demanded, breaking up their fits of giggles. “I love a good joke.”

“No joke, my lord,” Rose said, valiantly trying to smooth her features. “Simply commenting on this undercooked lamb.”

Maddy desperately wanted to snort with laughter, but at the stern look from Fitz, thought better of it.

“Just catching up from the last few months, brother,” Maddy said in a placating tone, but Fitz fixed her with a look that indicated he knew that they were up to no good. “We have much to discuss while Rose has been in London.”

Rose immediately quieted her giggles, and even softly apologized to Fitz, which was shocking in its own right: Rose didn’t apologize to anyone.

“You? Were in London?” Miss Drake asked.

Rose nodded. “We were, Miss Drake.”

“I don’t recall seeing you there,” Miss Drake replied. “We must not travel in the same circles of society.”

“Perhaps we should be thankful for that,” Rose said quietly, and Fitz fixed them both with such a glare, they immediately quieted.

Chastened, Maddy looked back at her plate, and then dared to glance down the table one more time before the men retired for the evening.

Jamie was watching her again, an amused look on his face. The gaze was gone in an instant, though, and he settled his eyes on Miss Drake instead.

Who was looking at him with a calculating look in her eye and a beatific smile on her face.

Bloody hell, Maddy thought darkly.

Perhaps this house party was a mistake after all.

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