her throat and asked, “Have you been part of the negotiations in London concerning future trade with France?”
“I was there and I did participate,” Hugh replied, deliberately putting a fork full of food into his mouth and chewing.
“Are our merchants concerned about French competition?”
Before answering her, Hugh took a gulp of wine. “I will say that the women who care about such things are very eager to access French fashions once again.”
“They do make lovely things,” Ellie said.
“So I’ve learned.” Hugh turned back to his meal and raised a forkful of turbot to his lips.
Ellie hoped he would say something more. Instead, he moved his attention toward his mother and Chase Hart, feigning interest in their chatter.
What an insufferable bore
, Ellie thought. She envied Rosemarie Philapot, who sat between Algie and Poultney. At least they were amusing.
Steeling her courage, Ellie decided to make another attempt at conversation. “Those are magnificent diamonds your mother is wearing.”
Hugh looked at her in horror. Turning away, he said, “Miss Hester, are you enjoying the Yorkshire pudding?”
Hester turned red as a beet. “Am I eating too much?”
“Not at all,” Hugh responded, looking more uncomfortable than ever.
“The partridge is excellent as well,” Ellie added. But Hugh continued to avert his gaze. “Miss Hester, may I pass you some ham?”
Hester’s frightened eyes traveled to her brother.
“Thank you, Lord Davenport,” George said, “I believe my sister would like a bite of ham.”
A footman raced to the table and sliced a hunk off the suckling pig lying on a silver platter in the center.
“I’m glad you offered ham to Miss Hester,” Ellie said to Hugh’s back. “It’s quite delicious.”
His large shoulders shrugged sullenly, and he went back to eating.
Ellie gave up trying to talk to him. It was easier to tame Old Nell than coax a word from the brute.
The cooked head of the pig attracted her attention. Its vacant eye sockets seemed to stare at her. Ellie picked up a forkful of pork and purposefully chewed.
At least the conversation is more interesting than with the man sitting next to me,
she silently told the pig.
A servant padded into the dining room and whispered into Hugh’s ear.
“What is it, dear?” said Lady Davenport.
“Just some business with the horses,” Hugh said, pushing back his chair and excusing himself.
Cold flushed through Ellie’s veins. It had to be Lank. She prayed she could keep her guilty cheeks from turning pink. Concentrating all her attention on the pig, she tried to remember how to breathe.
• • •
“Beg pardon, your lordship,” Lank said, standing in the front hallway. “I’ve come on a bit of business I think you’ll find interesting.”
“If it’s about Baron Wadsworth’s preoccupation with Manifesto, the answer remains, no, I will not sell.”
“Well, the Baron is feeling a bit put out. If it hadn’t been for that surly lout interrupting the proceedings, you two would still be bidding.”
“And I would still be bidding higher. Since we’ve concluded that conversation, I’ll return to my dinner now.”
“Nay, nay, I come about that new stable boy of yours. The one from Fairland.”
“News certainly travels fast. Yes, what about him?”
“He’s a she, sir.”
“A she?”
“That’s right. A she dressin’ as a he.”
“Actually, Mr. Lank, I know about the she/he bit. So let’s keep this business between ourselves. You’ve no use for a trainer anymore, and Manifesto trusts her. Let’s not have the stable hands learning about her, you understand? We couldn’t keep her in the saddle if word got out.”
“Hah, good one, your lordship,” Lank said, disappointment lowering his eyelids. “Not a word from me. I’m just surprised Miss Ellie — ”
“There’s no problem there, I’ve already received directions to be discrete. I plan to abide by them.”
“She’s a fine rider,
“I was there and I did participate,” Hugh replied, deliberately putting a fork full of food into his mouth and chewing.
“Are our merchants concerned about French competition?”
Before answering her, Hugh took a gulp of wine. “I will say that the women who care about such things are very eager to access French fashions once again.”
“They do make lovely things,” Ellie said.
“So I’ve learned.” Hugh turned back to his meal and raised a forkful of turbot to his lips.
Ellie hoped he would say something more. Instead, he moved his attention toward his mother and Chase Hart, feigning interest in their chatter.
What an insufferable bore
, Ellie thought. She envied Rosemarie Philapot, who sat between Algie and Poultney. At least they were amusing.
Steeling her courage, Ellie decided to make another attempt at conversation. “Those are magnificent diamonds your mother is wearing.”
Hugh looked at her in horror. Turning away, he said, “Miss Hester, are you enjoying the Yorkshire pudding?”
Hester turned red as a beet. “Am I eating too much?”
“Not at all,” Hugh responded, looking more uncomfortable than ever.
“The partridge is excellent as well,” Ellie added. But Hugh continued to avert his gaze. “Miss Hester, may I pass you some ham?”
Hester’s frightened eyes traveled to her brother.
“Thank you, Lord Davenport,” George said, “I believe my sister would like a bite of ham.”
A footman raced to the table and sliced a hunk off the suckling pig lying on a silver platter in the center.
“I’m glad you offered ham to Miss Hester,” Ellie said to Hugh’s back. “It’s quite delicious.”
His large shoulders shrugged sullenly, and he went back to eating.
Ellie gave up trying to talk to him. It was easier to tame Old Nell than coax a word from the brute.
The cooked head of the pig attracted her attention. Its vacant eye sockets seemed to stare at her. Ellie picked up a forkful of pork and purposefully chewed.
At least the conversation is more interesting than with the man sitting next to me,
she silently told the pig.
A servant padded into the dining room and whispered into Hugh’s ear.
“What is it, dear?” said Lady Davenport.
“Just some business with the horses,” Hugh said, pushing back his chair and excusing himself.
Cold flushed through Ellie’s veins. It had to be Lank. She prayed she could keep her guilty cheeks from turning pink. Concentrating all her attention on the pig, she tried to remember how to breathe.
• • •
“Beg pardon, your lordship,” Lank said, standing in the front hallway. “I’ve come on a bit of business I think you’ll find interesting.”
“If it’s about Baron Wadsworth’s preoccupation with Manifesto, the answer remains, no, I will not sell.”
“Well, the Baron is feeling a bit put out. If it hadn’t been for that surly lout interrupting the proceedings, you two would still be bidding.”
“And I would still be bidding higher. Since we’ve concluded that conversation, I’ll return to my dinner now.”
“Nay, nay, I come about that new stable boy of yours. The one from Fairland.”
“News certainly travels fast. Yes, what about him?”
“He’s a she, sir.”
“A she?”
“That’s right. A she dressin’ as a he.”
“Actually, Mr. Lank, I know about the she/he bit. So let’s keep this business between ourselves. You’ve no use for a trainer anymore, and Manifesto trusts her. Let’s not have the stable hands learning about her, you understand? We couldn’t keep her in the saddle if word got out.”
“Hah, good one, your lordship,” Lank said, disappointment lowering his eyelids. “Not a word from me. I’m just surprised Miss Ellie — ”
“There’s no problem there, I’ve already received directions to be discrete. I plan to abide by them.”
“She’s a fine rider,
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