Page 61 of The Baron Takes a Bet
“You’re a good nephew, Gavin. Far more patient than I would be.”
“Yes well,” Gavin said, feeling annoyed when Holly’s hand touched his elbow.
“It is kind of you to care for her.”
The tight, prickly tension in his stomach released suddenly and a ridiculous feeling of pride filled his chest.Good god, he thought. It was unfair how much her words could govern his mood.
“Come, Fredrick,” Violet said to her fiancé. “I wish to know your opinion about the flowers…”
Violet, Holly, and Katrina fell into a conversation about floral arrangements, while Fredrick tried to appear similarly interested. As charming as the Trembley brothers were, Frederick was wholly smitten with Violet which allowed Gavin a break in the ridiculous feeling of jealousy that had consumed him.
Why should he feel jealous? It made no sense. Derek was hardly the sort of man to betray his friends and Holly was already married, wasn’t she? Yet the flattery had been almost too much for Gavin to bear, and he found that he was equal parts prideful and jealous for the remainder of their time in the parlor.
When dinner was announced, the guests followed Silas and Clara into a brightly lit, peach-painted dining room, adorned with wall sconces made of amethyst and brass. Only one portrait hung in the room, above a large marble fireplace behind thehead of the table. It was a painting of the duchess, wearing a white silk gown, standing in front of a stone baluster set before a wooded country estate. It had been done to perfection and Gavin noticed Silas gaze up at it in fond admiration before turning around to take his seat.
It was obvious that the duke was besotted with his wife and Gavin wondered if he had found it difficult to allow himself to love so deeply after the disaster that was his first marriage. Gavin was sure he wouldn’t be able to trust anyone after what the duke had gone through.
Conversation flowed freely between the guests and though Gavin was unusually quiet, he did enjoy how readily accepted Holly and her sister were by his friends. Of course, Clara and Holly had been dear friends for years. Trembley, who had initially been leery about Combe’s bride, had come to recognize that Clara was rather perfect for Combe and the two had developed a friendly banter that often put the duke in a bemused state. Meanwhile, it did Gavin’s heart good to witness the others’ kindness towards Holly.
Except, of course, for the quips they all endured from Aunt Marnie.
For a woman so focused on female propriety, she certainly didn’t adhere to her own stifling rules. For instance, it was custom that ladies drink their wine watered down and never ask for more than one glass during a ball or soiree. A dinner party might be different, but Aunt Marnie had already consumed three glasses of wine and did not seem to be slowing down. Instead, she simply kept interrupting conversations that were happening around her, as if her opinion was wanted by all of them.
“When does your brother arrive home from the Americas, Trembley?” Silas asked between the soup course and the main course. “He’s been gone for nearly seven months, hasn’t he?”
“He has, and the fool won’t stop sending mementos home from every new place he visits,” Derek said, turning to Gavin. “Speaking of which, how do you like those lemon candy things?”
Gavin’s brow raised.
“Were they from you?”
“Well, my brother. I tried one and despised it, but I remember you always had a penchant for sweets.”
Gavin grinned.
“I’ve enjoyed them immensely. Send my thanks.”
“I will—”
“Tell me, Lord Trembley, have you held any of your famous card games recently?” Aunt Marnie interrupted loudly as she took another sip of her claret.
“Ah, no, madam, I have not. Not since… well…”
“Since the duke here won himself a wife?” she asked, glancing at Clara. “Such high stakes. It’s no wonder you’ve canceled your tournament.”
Gavin turned towards her.
“Aunt Marnie,” he said with a warning.
“Yes, well, it was a foolish pursuit. And considering what occurred at the last game,” Trembley said, giving a sympathetic look to Clara, “I decided it was best to conclude my involvement in gambling.”
“Is that so? I should let you know that I find it highly insulting that you never considered hosting a card game for the ladies of your social circle.” Aunt Marnie hiccupped, evidently relaxed by the wine. “It wasn’t very sporting of you.”
“My mother actually used to host one for her and her friends.”
“Really?” Aunt Marnie said with interest.
“Yes, but she hasn’t done so since my father passed away.”
