Page 53 of A Widow for the Earl
Teresa nodded. “Yes, thereshouldbe games. But let us relax awhile before we think of what to play.” She paused. “Indeed, wemight find ourselves so at ease that we have not the inclination to play any games after all.”
A slight frisson of awkwardness bristled through the gathered group, a few glances making their way toward Vincent. Even those who were not present for the somewhat catastrophic game of Blind Man’s Hunt had clearly heard about it.
He let the glances roll off his back, either oblivious to why people were looking at him or not caring. “Shall we, then?” was all he said, gesturing to the dining room doors.
The tension dissipated, the group rising in a babble of chatter and laughter, everyone in merry spirits as they left the dining room in a lively stream.
Beatrice, who had been dismayed to find that she was not seated beside Frederick, hung back in an attempt to walk out with him. She had missed her friend. Indeed, she had assumed he had ventured off to Scotland or somewhere again, for he had not responded to any of her letters. If nothing else, she meant to scold him for being a perpetually terrible correspondent.
So, it was rather a shock when Vincent appeared at her side, offering her his arm.
“Oh… I assumed you would be retreating to a dark corner around now,” she said, her mind faltering. “Are you going to join us all in the Lesser Hall?”
Vincent shrugged. “I am trying.”
“Pardon?”
“I am trying to enjoy myself,” he replied. “This is my sister’s occasion. It would be discourteous of me to wander off after dinner, instead of partaking in… games.”
He appeared to shudder at the word, bringing an unexpected smile to her lips.
“Well, I promise we shall not play Blind Man’s Hunt,” she said, to test his response.
He made a soft, growling sound in the back of his throat. “I suppose I deserved that. Now, are you going to take my arm or not?”
She did, though she could not fathom the sudden change. He had avoided her all week, he had avoided her gaze throughout dinner, and he had seemed relieved to discover he would not be sitting beside her. So, why did he want to be near to her now?
At that moment, she saw Frederick walk past… and wondered if that might have had something to do with it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beatrice’s theory was somewhat confirmed as the evening wore on. Vincent had led her into the Lesser Hall—a charming room with vaulted ceilings, that still appeared to be decorated from the ball that Beatrice had arranged—but he had not invited any sort of meaningful conversation. Rather, he had stood off to one side with a glass of port, close to Beatrice without actually being beside her.
And when Beatrice moved, so did he. As if he were guarding her, almost.
Still, that had not stopped her from having a lovely time with her friends. She had won threerounds of cards already against Duncan, Valeria, Lionel, and Rebecca; she had lost at two word games with Teresa; she had regaled the group with just one song on the pianoforte, before Isolde kindly took over; and she had soaked up all of the stories that her friends and acquaintances had to tell, marveling at everyone’s happiness.
“At last, your hound has left us,” a mischievous voice drew her attention away from the latest pairing at the pianoforte: Rebecca singing beautifully, Amelia playing wonderfully.
Beatrice gasped, whirling around. “Freddie, you scared me!”
“I did not mean to, but I had no choice but to be stealthy,” Frederick replied, grinning. “One misstep and your chaperone would come sprinting back from wherever he has gone.”
Beatrice had not realized that Vincent had left the room, her eyes searching for him among the small group. The door to the hall was partially open, suggesting that Vincent had finally given up on trying to enjoy the evening.
She smacked Frederick playfully on the arm. “He is not my chaperone. In truth, I am not sure why he is staying so close to me this evening. Usually, he cannot get away fast enough.”
“Oh, that is simple,” Frederick replied, leaning in. “He understands that if two people of exceptional charm and wit and good looks are allowed to stand side by side, the world as we know it will implode. As such, he has been forced to come between us, to protect us all from catastrophe.”
She chuckled. “I would not say your charm and wit are exceptional. Passable, at best.”
“Ah, but you do think me exceptionally handsome?” He winked, his ability to take a teasing well so very refreshing after weeks with Vincent.
Indeed, she had not realized how much she missed the casual delight of friendly banter. She knew she could say just about anything to Frederick and he would take no offense, and he could say almost anything to her without her being insulted. It was all in good fun between them, and she dearly wished she could have that with Vincent.
But it is like I said to Valery—what if he simply does not know how to have fun?
She smiled at Frederick. “It rather depends on the light.”
