as
the previous gentleman suggested. But I assumed his constitution was made of
hardier stuff.”
“As did I.” Luke studied
Brigitta. Porcelain skin with a splattering of freckles highlighted her pale
blue eyes. Thick auburn high piled atop her head spilled ringlets about her
face. The desire to drape a ringlet around his finger and tug, wrapped itself
into his mind. He drew in a deep breath and tried to wish it away.
She pushed one aside and batted
her lashes innocently. “Sir, the music has ended.”
“Indeed it has.”
“Perhaps we should sit.”
“Is that what you’d like to do?”
She grimaced. “What I would like
to do is not in question; what I must do is. Let’s retire to my table, shall
we? There I would like for you to formally introduce yourself.”
Luke led her back to the table
while circulating a myriad of excuses and stalling tactics through his mind. It
was too soon to tell her his name. If she was from the village, she might
realize he was the true baron, and if she did, his deceit would be discovered.
He worried his lip, but his concern was for naught because her table was
occupied.
“Rector Morgan, how good to see
you,” said Brigitta, her tone of voice hinting at sarcasm.
Luke started to ease away, hoping
to use the distraction to escape telling her the truth, but Brigitta squeezed
his hand and drew him closer. The rector narrowed his eyes and Luke’s gut
clenched.
This wasn’t going to work out
well for anyone concerned.
Chapter Thirteen
Chadwick sipped at his drink and
took a seat at a whist table. He studied the uninspiring lot of players and
berated himself. Why had he not introduced himself to Brigitta? He should have
declared his identity and then angered her. The opportunity to secure funds for
the manse had been laid before him and he had allowed it to slip through his
fingers.
He sighed. Seeing Brigitta look
so beautiful had softened his attitude. At least for tonight, he wouldn’t use
her to rectify the estate’s monetary situation.
Chadwick straightened and a mischievous
grin tilted the corners of his lips. Perhaps all hope was not lost. Even with
the card room doors thrown open to the adjacent ballroom, the press of active
bodies made the view chancy, at best. But if Chadwick wasn’t mistaken, Rector
Morgan was in the process of accosting Brigitta and the stranger. Happiness
soared in Chadwick’s breast. If anyone could put his wife in a foul mood, it
would be the minister. Assured that he could relax, he again studied the table.
The players failed to acknowledge him and so he declared, “I need a partner.”
A lady with regal poise and
bearing cocked a brow and said, “Chadwick Andrews, is that you?”
“Ah, Lady Vonda. It is nice to
see you again. You are looking well.”
“As are you. I feared you wouldn’t
attend.”
Chadwick placed his glass of port
on the table and picked up the deck of cards. “And why wouldn’t I? This is my
home, after all.”
“But of course. It is just that I’ve
heard your brother doesn’t enjoy the social circuit and I feared perhaps you
felt the same.”
“Indeed, my brother has a dislike
for socializing with the London ton, but I find engaging in social activity
with any level of society intriguing.”
Those at the table drew in a
sharp breath. Chadwick inwardly rejoiced at his ability to affect their opinion
of his brother. Taking a chance, he said, “How about we make this game more
interesting?”
Lady Vonda coyly waved her fan
over her décolletage. “Sounds delightful.”
****
Brigitta tensed and pulled her
brother-in-law to her side.
Rector Archibald Morgan was a
hideous little man. Short in stature with bushy brows and a rotund middle, he
waddled and wheezed from place to place. His plume of gray hair rose in spikes
around his head. The coat of heavy brocade made him look like a small gorilla.
Other than an arched brow, he
made no other acknowledgment of her companion. She had seen him afford
the previous gentleman suggested. But I assumed his constitution was made of
hardier stuff.”
“As did I.” Luke studied
Brigitta. Porcelain skin with a splattering of freckles highlighted her pale
blue eyes. Thick auburn high piled atop her head spilled ringlets about her
face. The desire to drape a ringlet around his finger and tug, wrapped itself
into his mind. He drew in a deep breath and tried to wish it away.
She pushed one aside and batted
her lashes innocently. “Sir, the music has ended.”
“Indeed it has.”
“Perhaps we should sit.”
“Is that what you’d like to do?”
She grimaced. “What I would like
to do is not in question; what I must do is. Let’s retire to my table, shall
we? There I would like for you to formally introduce yourself.”
Luke led her back to the table
while circulating a myriad of excuses and stalling tactics through his mind. It
was too soon to tell her his name. If she was from the village, she might
realize he was the true baron, and if she did, his deceit would be discovered.
He worried his lip, but his concern was for naught because her table was
occupied.
“Rector Morgan, how good to see
you,” said Brigitta, her tone of voice hinting at sarcasm.
Luke started to ease away, hoping
to use the distraction to escape telling her the truth, but Brigitta squeezed
his hand and drew him closer. The rector narrowed his eyes and Luke’s gut
clenched.
This wasn’t going to work out
well for anyone concerned.
Chapter Thirteen
Chadwick sipped at his drink and
took a seat at a whist table. He studied the uninspiring lot of players and
berated himself. Why had he not introduced himself to Brigitta? He should have
declared his identity and then angered her. The opportunity to secure funds for
the manse had been laid before him and he had allowed it to slip through his
fingers.
He sighed. Seeing Brigitta look
so beautiful had softened his attitude. At least for tonight, he wouldn’t use
her to rectify the estate’s monetary situation.
Chadwick straightened and a mischievous
grin tilted the corners of his lips. Perhaps all hope was not lost. Even with
the card room doors thrown open to the adjacent ballroom, the press of active
bodies made the view chancy, at best. But if Chadwick wasn’t mistaken, Rector
Morgan was in the process of accosting Brigitta and the stranger. Happiness
soared in Chadwick’s breast. If anyone could put his wife in a foul mood, it
would be the minister. Assured that he could relax, he again studied the table.
The players failed to acknowledge him and so he declared, “I need a partner.”
A lady with regal poise and
bearing cocked a brow and said, “Chadwick Andrews, is that you?”
“Ah, Lady Vonda. It is nice to
see you again. You are looking well.”
“As are you. I feared you wouldn’t
attend.”
Chadwick placed his glass of port
on the table and picked up the deck of cards. “And why wouldn’t I? This is my
home, after all.”
“But of course. It is just that I’ve
heard your brother doesn’t enjoy the social circuit and I feared perhaps you
felt the same.”
“Indeed, my brother has a dislike
for socializing with the London ton, but I find engaging in social activity
with any level of society intriguing.”
Those at the table drew in a
sharp breath. Chadwick inwardly rejoiced at his ability to affect their opinion
of his brother. Taking a chance, he said, “How about we make this game more
interesting?”
Lady Vonda coyly waved her fan
over her décolletage. “Sounds delightful.”
****
Brigitta tensed and pulled her
brother-in-law to her side.
Rector Archibald Morgan was a
hideous little man. Short in stature with bushy brows and a rotund middle, he
waddled and wheezed from place to place. His plume of gray hair rose in spikes
around his head. The coat of heavy brocade made him look like a small gorilla.
Other than an arched brow, he
made no other acknowledgment of her companion. She had seen him afford
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