Page 73 of Magic Touch
"She lives in the country." William handily peels the potatoes and places them in a bowl.
"Will you take Esme to meet her? Do you think they will get along?" Despite Minerva's constant chatter, the chicken smells divine from her cooking. She cuts up some hog that Mable brought and puts it in the other pot.
"I wish you wouldn't answer that, William." My face is on fire. Somehow questioning William has become about me, and I don't like it, even though I'm curious about the answer.
He reaches toward my face but pulls back before actually touching me. His eyes are full of tenderness that makes my heart beat faster.
With a wicked grin, he returns his attention to the potatoes. "I hope Esme will agree to meeting my mother, and I'm certain Mother will adore her."
Meeting his gaze to dispute his notion, I'm met with him shaking his head. "I'm certain she will adore you."
There is nothing to say, so I look at Minerva for assistance.
Her wide grin tells me that I'll get no sensible help from there.
Chapter
Nineteen
WILLIAM
Being the only man at a table of witches is a unique experience. The meal started with seven people, and now, there are nearly twenty.
"Sir William, I have seen your portrait in the royal gallery," Sylvia Pelham says, tearing a bit of bread from the loaf. "It doesn't do you justice."
The ladies laugh and gape at him.
A blonde sitting next to Sylvia fondles a broach pinned to her blue blouse just above her breast. I can’t remember all their names, but they are each colorful and interesting.
Esme stiffens beside me. Perhaps she is jealous or disagrees with Sylvia's assessment of the portrait. I can't say as she's again cut herself off from sharing thoughts.
I smile. "I have never cared for that painting, but the king insisted."
Henry arrives and stands behind me. He leans in. "All is well. Anne and Samuel are waiting below. They could not be convinced to come up."
This gathering might be daunting to anyone. "You were not dissuaded?"
With a grin, Henry stands straight. "It sounds as if you are enjoying yourselves."
A witch with red hair and blue eyes looks at Henry from head to toe. She toys with the lace at the low cut of her green dress. "Life is for enjoyment. There will be plenty of time for serious matters after the meal. Who might you be?"
Henry bows. "Henry Dove. I am Sir William's valet."
"He is also my closest friend," I add.
"Well, Henry Dove, you may come and sit by me, if you like. I am Jennifer Maynard." She pats her shiny hair into place, lowers one shoulder, and bats her lashes at Henry.
Enjoying the attention, Henry obliges and accepts a bowl of chicken stew.
Talk turns to matters I don't understand, and before long, the dishes are being cleared. The women are a swirl of colorful skirts and dresses. None fancy or showing wealth, but neither do they wear rags.
Esme stands to help, but Sara Beth presses her back into the chair. "You cooked. Let us clean up."
Minerva grins from across the table and hands her bowl to Henry, who is clearing with the witches. I rise to help, but Minerva waves me back to my seat. "Let Henry Dove have his time in the sun, Sir William. He'll enjoy it."
Not at all sure what she's talking about, I do as I'm told. "You have been very quiet, Esme. Are you alright?"
"Fine. I'm not used to all the clatter of a crowd." She fidgets with the trim at the waist of her dress, then folds her hands on the table.
