Page 11 of A Lady's Wager
“No one knows, but it’s a logical explanation. A girl with a face like hers should have had an offer by eighteen.” Mrs. Stewart shook her head. “If he’d taken her to London three years ago as I suggested, they would have found someone to fit evenherstandards.”
“Most assuredly.” Part of him appreciated that Mr. Colston hadn’t taken her to the London marriage mart.
It appeared he wasn’t the only one caught by surprise. When they arrived at Kirkby Park’s drawing room, Miss Bradford shot out of her chair, gloves clutched in one hand. “I thought you meant the Stewarts from Long Ashton were coming to dinner,” she said.
“I believe I said Mrs. Stewart,” Mr. Colston said, bowing to their guests.
Miss Bradford extended her hand, and Derrick couldn’t explain his eagerness at taking it. The smoothness of her skin washed over the roughness of his, weathered from a lifetime exposed to the elements. He bowed deeply, but when he raised his head, it was her grandfather’s skeptical stare that caught his attention. Derrick quickly dropped her hand and greeted Miss Lee, feeling Mr. Colston’s eyes on him with every move he made.
When the butler announced dinner, Derrick came to the horrible conclusion that he and Mr. Colston were the only men in attendance at this dinner. No doubt their host would take an old-fashioned approach to sitting at table, with the women all on one side and men on the other. All excitement that had mounted in their carriage ride dissipated. If the table was too long, he’d be having a private conversation with the disapproving grandfather rather than a pleasant one with the amiable granddaughter. As he held out his arm to escort Mrs. Lee into the dining room, his stomach sank. He might as well be retaking his lieutenant exam for all the joy this dinner would bring.
Corah pulled back as Melinda’s fan cut off her view of Lieutenant Owens, stopping them before they followed the rest of the company out of the drawing room. “What are you doing?” She tried to push the fan out of her face, but Melinda leaned in.
“He has his eye on you,” she hissed. “You cannot tell me otherwise.”
“How am I to know that?” Corah whispered, fighting a smile. Surely it was only because of their connection with her brother and the fact that he’d conversed with her more than the other members of their party, Mrs. Stewart excluded. But the way he bowed so elegantly over her hand, as though she were some grand lady deserving of his respect…
That was enough to make any girl hope he’d taken an interest in her.
“He hardly looks at anyone else when you are around.”
Corah huffed. “You’ve seen us together twice.”
“Threetimes before tonight. And if you do not have him secured before you are off to London, I shall give you all my pin money.”
Corah shook her head. If Melinda had any pin money left. “We should follow the others, or Grandfather will not be pleased.”
Melinda frowned. “I can already see the lieutenant’s feelings. But what are yours? Do you like him?”
“This is hardly a discreet position to have this conversation,” Corah said with a laugh, pulling her cousin’s fan down and moving toward the door through which the others had disappeared. How was she to answer? “There are very few people I dislike.” She greatly enjoyed his company on the few occasions they’d met. The way his coat hugged his shoulders always caught her attention for longer than it should have. And when he grinned, her chest seemed to expand in an odd bubbly sensation that made it difficult not to laugh.
“You know what I meant, Corie,” Melinda grumbled. Corah refused to give her anything more.
In the dining room, two chairs remained vacant—one between Grandfather and Mrs. Stewart, and the other between Aunt Mary and Lieutenant Owens. She glanced at her cousin. Someone had to choose a chair. Melinda sighed as she closed her fan and pocketed it, then trudged to the seat near Grandfather, throwing Corah a long-suffering look.
How fortunate Grandfather had instructed the servants to shorten the table so there was not a gap between gentlemen and ladies. The lieutenant pulled out the chair for her as she rounded the table and slid it under her as she sat. Did his hands linger on her chair? Had his gaze remained a moment longer than usual? Confound it. Melinda’s conversation was playing games with her head. Or perhaps it was the scent of dinner wafting up from the dishes before them.
“Have you begunCelestina?” Lieutenant Owens asked, quiet enough to not draw the rest of the table into the conversation.
He’d remembered her novel. “I’ve finished the first volume and begun the second.”
“And how do you like it?” His voice carried a tone of genuine interest that warmed her through.
“Mrs. Smith is a rather sentimental writer.” She scooped up her spoon to dip into the soup lest she fall too far behind the rest of the company. “I’ve enjoyed it. I suppose I can’t help but hope for an orphan to succeed.” She inwardly winced. Was that venturing too close to her past for polite conversation?
A faraway look clouded Lieutenant Owens’s features. “I share the sentiment. If orphans can persevere in novels, perhaps we as real orphans can.” Somewhere in those deep eyes, she thought she caught a glimpse of little Derrick Owens, practically alone in the world.
“Do you remember your parents?” she asked, even quieter than they were speaking before. She had no desire for the others to join this conversation. No one else had lost both parents in childhood, and for some reason, she wanted to protect this moment with him.
“Not very much.” He cleared his throat and returned to his food. “But I do remember the books. Both my parents loved to read. You would have loved the library. At least I think you would have, according to what I’ve been told about it.”
“What happened to the books?”
He shrugged. “Many of them stayed with the house. My father didn’t own it. Others were given away or sold. I didn’t have much use for them, young as I was. Now I wish they’d been kept.”
What a shame. She hoped whomever she found to marry had an extensive library. She could imagine cuddling her children near the fire as she read themAesop’s Fables, their father reading his own book nearby, watching them with clearblue eyes. Her cheeks heated and she swallowed. How had Lieutenant Owens made his way into her daydream?
“What would you do with them while at sea?” she asked quickly.
