Page 28 of His Spirited Lady
Fiona Allen was a lovely girl, and she had caught his attention the moment they’d boarded the ship to cross the Channel. Her dark eyes and darker hair contrasted with her pale skin, giving her an exotic look, which she enhanced with her richly colored dresses. Her lively conversation had been a welcome respite from wine, debts, and hisoncle’smiserable life.
But her questions about Quebec and Rosnay had become questions about his checkbook. One reckless stolen kiss, inspired by a starry night after a fabulous dinner and too much champagne, had flown to outright hints as to when she would be alone. When he’d ignored them, she had taken to dragging him into passageways. Miss Allen was surprisingly strong.
She was also a walking, talking marriage trap.
“I looked for you when we debarked in Ipswich, and then hoped you’d call at my cousin’s home in London.” Fiona swept her fan across her neck and chest, much as she had aboard ship, even though the wind had claimed several shawls and a great many hats during the mercifully brief journey. “But there are several Martins in town. It was very confusing.”
“It was,” Richard said. He could have told her that he’d never looked, had never even remembered she had a cousin much less that cousin’s name. Agreeing was just easier.
“And then Belinda received this invitation.” Fiona spread her hands wide. “Fate has once again thrown us together.”
Amelia slid free and stepped away. “I believe there’s a set of checkers remaining. The two of you could play opposite one another.” She offered him an ivory box that was slick and cold against his fingers. “Before you both arrived, we’d decided that each group playing checkers would compete, winner against winner, until there was a champion. The same with the chess competitors.”
“Miss Chitester and I are playing chess,” Ethan Raymond said as he joined them. He offered Amelia his arm. “We should begin if we’re to finish before the dinner gong.”
“This house isn’t nearly large enough for a gong,” Margaret Gerard said as she walked past with Annabel Pearce. “My mother says ours is nearly half again as large.”
If Richard had been forced to guess, he’d wager Miss Gerard was the young lady with the heron-like laugh—but perhaps that was inspired by the overabundance of feathers in her hair. By contrast, Miss Pearce drew his attention because of her serenity. Rather than gossiping with Margaret, she simply took the seat opposite her and opened the board, motioning for Miss Gerard to select her color of choice.
Richard held Fiona’s chair for her before sitting opposite. The set Amelia had given them was ivory and jade, the intricate pieces cool to the touch.
“This is akin to playing with art,” Richard said as he set the board.
“It reminds me of Venice.” Fiona lined up her pieces. “Art is found in everyday use throughout the city. Have you been?”
“No.” Richard waited on her to make the first move. Across the room, Amelia was contemplating the chessboard, tapping one of Raymond’s pawns on her chin. “I’ve always planned to go.”
“Father will be returning to Rome in the spring.” Fiona made her move. “You recall he represents the Crown’s business in Italy?”
“I do.” Richard countered, choosing to move his piece by picking it up rather than sliding it over the ivory. To his thought, this set should be set on a shelf to admire. Across the room, Amelia tucked a curl behind her ear as she considered the board.
“How long will you be staying in Norfolk?” Fiona asked.
Richard jumped one of her dove gray pieces and collected it. He glanced up and met Amelia’s stare. He refocused on Fiona and smiled. “I’ve not yet decided.”
“Father will be meeting with Parliament in November. If you are in town, perhaps I could arrange a dinner.”
“I would be honored to meet your father, Fiona” Richard said, doing his best to be kind. “But I do not believe business will bring me to London.” He also didn’t believe an English diplomat would welcome a French tradesman at his table unless there were national negotiations at stake.
“I won’t give up that easily, Mr. Ferrand.” She took two of his pieces in a masterful move.
“Mr. Raymond, I will thank you not to move my pieces.” Amelia rapped her closed fan over her opponent’s knuckles.
“I was merely trying to help you decide,” he said. To Richard, his condescension was obvious.
“I can play my own game,” she snapped. It was to her as well.
The bell rang, announcing new arrivals. She stood so quickly her chair rocked backward. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Raymond swept his hand across the board, scattering pieces. One rolled to Richard’s feet. It was a mahogany king, carved to the likeness of Henry VIII. Well done enough that his beard appeared combed.
“Ethan hates to lose,” Fiona whispered.
So did Amelia. Richard looked to his partner. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Allen. I believe my family has arrived for dinner. I should go greet them.”
“Of course.” Her smile was sad. “Thank you for the game.”
Richard put the king on Raymond’s table on his way out of the room. Relief washed through him as he entered the hall and saw familiar faces. Oliver and Augustus were sharing a laugh as Amelia greeted Thea, the tension in the drawing room forgotten.
