Page 25 of My Best Friend's Earl
“A hell spawn,” he countered, making her laugh.
“A scared kitten, who’s clearly been mistreated by men, and therefore had a difficult time trusting you at first.”
Lord Southwyn nodded, although she was fairly certain he rolled his eyes. “That’s accurate. A sympathetic explanation of his behavior doesn’t invalidate his status as hell spawn.”
She’d let that go, since she was enjoying this conversation. A conversation she might have with anyone, without a single flirtatious comment. He hadn’t admired her cleavage, and she hadn’t touched him in a faux innocent manner—not so much as a graze on his arm, she thought smugly. “Is he letting you pet him yet?”
Everyone in the room remained silent, watching the interplay.
“Shockingly, yes. When faced with starvation or eating fresh meat from my hand, he chose to risk my attention without inflicting bloodshed.”
“There you have it. The prince decided your touch is better than death.”
“A ringing endorsement, indeed,” Southwyn drawled. “In all seriousness, though, you saved the day. Prince and I are both indebted to you.”
“I am so confused,” Caro said from the couch.
“I’m entertained and baffled in equal measure,” Hattie interjected.
“Althea gave him a kitten, then left him to his own devices,” Dorian said.
“After several days of trying to convince the bloody thing to tolerate me, I sent for the only cat owner of my acquaintance, Miss Martin. She kindly came to call, and saved the situation,” Southwyn said.
“Interesting. You must have been in quite a state.” Caro’s character study expression was back, this time directed at Lord Southwyn, and a wave of foreboding swept over Constance.
“I was indeed,” he answered.
“You know what would make me happy, Dorian?” Caro’s attention shifted abruptly to her husband. “It’s been an age since we’ve caught up with everyone. Let’s arrange a picnic on the heath with all our friends. Something big and packed with everyone we know. Even your mother, if you think she could endure the idea of eating with insects.”
Constance bit her lip. Having a huge party, as well as the Silver Dragon—the moniker they’d given the Dowager Duchess of Holland—on hand to witness Althea’s attempts at driving Southwyn away had not been the plan.
Dorian shook his head. “Not the heath. I need you close to the house if you go into labor, not rattling about in a carriage. Besides, the weather has been abysmal with this incessant rain.”
Caro curled her lip militantly, but Dorian held firm. “If the baby comes while we’re out of the house, the only person with any experience in childbirth is my mother. Do you really want her lifting your gown to deliver our child in the mud?”
“Oh God.” Caro looked so appalled at the idea, Constance hid a snort behind her hand. Beside her, Southwyn coughed to disguise his own laugh, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at their shared amusement.
“Rather than a picnic, let’s host a dinner party. Nothing elaborate or formal. I won’t have you tiring yourself out with the details. Let’s keep it small. Your family, Althea and Oliver, Mother if she’s available,” Dorian offered, clearly used to these kinds of negotiations.
A smile flitted around the edge of Caro’s mouth, and Connie realized that she’d just witnessed a master at work. Having her husband suggest a dinner party had been the plan all along, the devious woman. Otherwise, it was highly likely the duke’s worry over her health would have made him reject the whole idea.
Caro nodded. “I accept your counteroffer, with the condition that if the weather’s fine, we move the table to the back garden. If I have to stare at these same rooms for much longer, I’ll need Bedlam rather than a nursery.”
“Then go for a walk,” Hattie suggested. Constance silently agreed, even though her brain had already jumped ahead and connected all the dots.
In their world, pregnancy was a part of life. But in the ton…
“I look as if I could sneeze and give birth on the pavement, so I can’t exactly walk in the park without making a fuss. Society refers to this stage of pregnancy as confinement, and they take that word far too literally.” Caro’s tone turned downright grumpy.
Dorian smiled at the group. “It sounds like we are having a dinner party as soon as possible.”
“Hattie and I are available any day after the shop closes,” Constance said.
“I’ll ask Althea if she has plans. We’re committed to an event tonight. Then the schedule is fairly light,” Southwyn said.
Caro clapped her hands, then grimaced and pressed a hand to her belly. “Oliver, if you’ll send a missive this evening, detailing which evenings work for you and Althea, I’ll make invitations. Thank you all, for indulging my need for a distraction.”
Especially as the pregnancy caused increasing discomfort, Constance felt guilty for asking her cousin to play hostess. Even if it was only a simple dinner. Of course, if the Silver Dragon joined them, that could make things interesting—as would Caro’s crankiness due to growing an entire human inside her.
