Part 52 (2/2)

With a nod, he strolled away--before a puzzled Lord Cranbourne could ask for clarification.

With studied nonchalance, Harry circled the room, watching, a.s.sessing. His interest was certainly cent red on Lucinda--but his first concern was to determine who had placed her name on the invitation list.

He'd been halfway to Asterley before his mind had cleared enough to see the point. He hadn't suggested her--so who had? And why?

He prowled the room, carefully studying, not only Lucinda, but all who approached her, intent on discovering which, of his fellow rakes, felt he had first claim. By the time dinner was announced, by Melthorpe in sepulchural vein, Lucinda had come to the conclusion that Harry was waiting for something--presumably disaster--to befall her, so that he could come to her aid and take charge of her again. Vowing it would never be so, she smiled graciously on Mr Ormesby as he offered her his arm.

”Do you come here often, sir?” Mr Ormesby gesticulated airily.

”Now and then. A peaceful interlude away from the bustle of town, what?”

”Indeed.”

From the corner of her eye, Lucinda saw Harry frown. Then Marguerite stopped beside him and claimed his arm.

Lucinda turned a bright smile on Mr Ormesby.

”I will rely on you, sir, if I may, to guide me in As~erley's ways.”

” Mr Ormesby looked thoroughly chuffed.

”A pleasure, my dear.”

Lucinda blinked, and hoped she wasn't raising any false expectations.

”Tell me--are the dinners very elaborate?”

Tonight's wasn't, but neither was it less than an elegant.

sufficiency with four full courses and two removes. The conversation, to Lucinda's relief, remained general throughout, with much exchanging of the latest gossip and on dits, accompanied by considerable merriment, all in the best of taste.

Indeed, if it hadn't been for the subtle undercurrent, borne on glances and the occasional whispered word, her enjoyment would have been unreserved. ”My dear Mrs Babbacombe.”

Lord Dewhurst, on Lucinda's left, leaned closer to claim her attention.

”Have you heard of the treasure hunt Marguerite has organised for tomorrow?”

”Treasure hunt?” Aware of the growing warmth in his lords.h.i.+p's gaze, Lucinda dimly wondered if such an enterprise, in this company, could possibly be innocent. ”Indeed--and we play a version of Fox and Geese that will, I'm sure, delight you. Needless to say, there's no board involved.” His lords.h.i.+p smiled.

”We, ourselves, represent the pieces.” could just ~ma But she her smile serene, grasping the offer of a custard to turn aside without comment. In doing so, she caught Harry's eye. He was seated across the table, some way along. Despite the distance, she could sense his simmering irritation, there in the odd tenseness that invested his apparently relaxed frame, and in the way his long fingers gripped his wine gla.s.s. Lucinda summoned a radiantly ingenuous smile--and turned it on Mr Ormesby.

Harry felt the muscle in his jaw ripple; his teeth were clenched tight. He forced his jaw to relax, turning aside as Marguerite waved at him from the end of the table. Lucinda had hoped to catch her breath, to rest her wits and strengthen her de fences when the ladies retired to the drawing-room.

But at Asterley, port was the last thing on the gentlemen's minds; they followed in the ladies' wake, not even glancing at the decanters on the sideboard.

”We generally take things quietly on the first evening,” Mr Ormesby informed Lucinda as he joined her by the hearth.

”Let people ... get to know one another, if you take my meaning.”

”Exactly!” Lord Asterley followed hard on Mr Ormesby's heels.

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