Ivan’s smiles. Even Michelangelo couldn’t have painted a more handsome youth.
Unexpectedly Ivan raised his eyes. His gaze shot down the length of the table and locked with hers. He’d caught her staring like an awestruck maiden, and she couldn’t hide the blush that seeped up her bosom and stained her cheeks. Unnerved, she immediately looked away. She spent the time before the soup was served fiddling once more with her shawl. And worrying that perhaps instead of diminishing with time, her attraction to Ivan had only ripened.
Dinner was served fashionably
à la Russe,
whereby each dish was carried round in succession to all the guests. Lissa could hardly name all the dishes for each course, but she was glad there was so much to take her attention away from the man who sat at the end of the table. The wine was sweet and heady, and before she knew it, she felt brave enough to turn her head again in Ivan’s direction. This time, unfortunately, her gaze was caught by Wilmott, who was also sitting at that end of the table. The old man smiled at her and wiggled his fingers in what he hoped was a discreet wave. Lissa acknowledged him with a smile butquickly averted her eyes, only to turn once more to the marquis.
Yet now Lissa found Tramore’s attentions elsewhere. They weren’t on Arabella as she expected, but rather the marquis was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed upon his chest, studying Wilmott. The object of his scrutiny, however, didn’t seem to notice for Wilmott was again trying to catch her eye. Old Billingsworth brazenly winked this time, and she had to stifle the urge to giggle. The entire situation was so absurd! She longed to tell Evvie all about it, but her sister was sitting at the opposite end of the table engaged in a lively conversation with Mr. Jones.
When dinner was over cordials were served in the conservatory for the ladies, and the gentlemen retired to Ivan’s library for brandy. Though the conservatory was a most glorious setting for cordials and cakes, Lissa found the humidity quite unbearable. There was a huge porcelain stove in the middle of the room, and while the oleanders and palms thrived on the heat, she felt wilted and oppressed. She took a lime cordial and sat gingerly on a wrought-iron chair next to Evvie. She opened her shawl a bit and listened in on the conversation the other ladies were having.
“How delightful that dinner was. The trifle was excellent.” Mrs. Parks plunked herself down on a baroque-revival bench.
“Yes, but if only I were young and slim like the girls here, I wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable in my stays right now.” Mrs. Bishop ran her hands down her hefty sides and smiled warmly at the company.
“It was quite decent of Ivan to invite us here. Why do you suppose he did so?” Arabella bit into a pink petit-four.
“He only invited us because of Father’s new business deal with him. Lord Powerscourt is buying some of Father’s lands,” Honoria stated.
Lissa looked at her abruptly. Was it true? Ivan andWilmott doing business together? She suddenly had an awful thought. Did that have anything to do with her? Was Ivan somehow . . . ? Realizing surely she was over-estimating her own importance, she quickly abandoned the idea, yet still it tickled at the back of her mind. Finding the humidity cloying, she parted her temples with a handkerchief. Though she longed to take off her shawl, even in this company she felt it would be too scandalous.
“But no! Lord Powerscourt invited us all simply because he is a generous man,” stated Mrs. Bishop. “A far cry from his father.”
“Ah, but he’s more like his father than anyone could have predicted.” Adele spoke up from the corner. “He is quite the Gothic character—with his dark looks and tragic past.”
Lissa turned to Adele and could have sworn she saw passion in the woman’s eyes. Adele almost seemed smitten with their host. But Lissa could hardly speculate on that possibility as she
Unexpectedly Ivan raised his eyes. His gaze shot down the length of the table and locked with hers. He’d caught her staring like an awestruck maiden, and she couldn’t hide the blush that seeped up her bosom and stained her cheeks. Unnerved, she immediately looked away. She spent the time before the soup was served fiddling once more with her shawl. And worrying that perhaps instead of diminishing with time, her attraction to Ivan had only ripened.
Dinner was served fashionably
à la Russe,
whereby each dish was carried round in succession to all the guests. Lissa could hardly name all the dishes for each course, but she was glad there was so much to take her attention away from the man who sat at the end of the table. The wine was sweet and heady, and before she knew it, she felt brave enough to turn her head again in Ivan’s direction. This time, unfortunately, her gaze was caught by Wilmott, who was also sitting at that end of the table. The old man smiled at her and wiggled his fingers in what he hoped was a discreet wave. Lissa acknowledged him with a smile butquickly averted her eyes, only to turn once more to the marquis.
Yet now Lissa found Tramore’s attentions elsewhere. They weren’t on Arabella as she expected, but rather the marquis was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed upon his chest, studying Wilmott. The object of his scrutiny, however, didn’t seem to notice for Wilmott was again trying to catch her eye. Old Billingsworth brazenly winked this time, and she had to stifle the urge to giggle. The entire situation was so absurd! She longed to tell Evvie all about it, but her sister was sitting at the opposite end of the table engaged in a lively conversation with Mr. Jones.
When dinner was over cordials were served in the conservatory for the ladies, and the gentlemen retired to Ivan’s library for brandy. Though the conservatory was a most glorious setting for cordials and cakes, Lissa found the humidity quite unbearable. There was a huge porcelain stove in the middle of the room, and while the oleanders and palms thrived on the heat, she felt wilted and oppressed. She took a lime cordial and sat gingerly on a wrought-iron chair next to Evvie. She opened her shawl a bit and listened in on the conversation the other ladies were having.
“How delightful that dinner was. The trifle was excellent.” Mrs. Parks plunked herself down on a baroque-revival bench.
“Yes, but if only I were young and slim like the girls here, I wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable in my stays right now.” Mrs. Bishop ran her hands down her hefty sides and smiled warmly at the company.
“It was quite decent of Ivan to invite us here. Why do you suppose he did so?” Arabella bit into a pink petit-four.
“He only invited us because of Father’s new business deal with him. Lord Powerscourt is buying some of Father’s lands,” Honoria stated.
Lissa looked at her abruptly. Was it true? Ivan andWilmott doing business together? She suddenly had an awful thought. Did that have anything to do with her? Was Ivan somehow . . . ? Realizing surely she was over-estimating her own importance, she quickly abandoned the idea, yet still it tickled at the back of her mind. Finding the humidity cloying, she parted her temples with a handkerchief. Though she longed to take off her shawl, even in this company she felt it would be too scandalous.
“But no! Lord Powerscourt invited us all simply because he is a generous man,” stated Mrs. Bishop. “A far cry from his father.”
“Ah, but he’s more like his father than anyone could have predicted.” Adele spoke up from the corner. “He is quite the Gothic character—with his dark looks and tragic past.”
Lissa turned to Adele and could have sworn she saw passion in the woman’s eyes. Adele almost seemed smitten with their host. But Lissa could hardly speculate on that possibility as she
Similar Books
