Page 81 of My Deceitful Duchess
Right away, Jenny could tell that the Knights held conflicting opinions of her. Mrs. Knight might have welcomed her with open arms, and Sebastian might profess to love her—but the other two gentlemen present were reticent at best even to make her acquaintance.
To their credit, they did rise from their seats as she, Sebastian, and Mrs. Knight entered the dining room. But their movements were stiff and jerky, and she suspected that if Mrs. Knight had not been present and otherwise deserving of their respect, they would not have bothered.
“My father, Winston,” Sebastian said, dutifully. “And my brother, Charlie.”
“Charles.” It was issued in a hiss from beneath a mustache that twitched with resentment from the man who was a thinner, less florid reproduction of their father. She could see it, thatpompositythat Sebastian had proclaimed of them. Their consequence far outstripped her own, at least in their opinions.
“Boys,” Mrs. Knight said as she settled into her chair to the right of her husband. “Let’s not quarrel at the dinner table, if you please. It is so rare that we are all together as a family. And with one new face amongst us.” She reached out to place her hand upon Jenny’s shoulder.
Sebastian’s father, Winston, reclaimed his seat with alacrity, and made a disapproving sound beneath his breath that sounded remarkably likeharrumph. It was no matter; people had thought poorly of her before.
Still, she held her peace as the footmen began to pour wine and distribute bowls of soup before them—white soup; a thin, pale broth of which she had never been particularly fond. But she lifted her spoon regardless and gave it a go.
“Who are your people?” It was a blunt question posed by Winston, without preamble—but it held the harsh, resentful tones of an inquisition. Aninterrogation; little different than those she had all too recently been subjected to.
“I beg your pardon? My people?” Her spoon froze over her bowl.
“Yourfamily, madam. Who are they? From whence do they hail?”
“Oh. From France, originally.” That brought a deepening scowl to Winston’s face, and she was just petty enough to relish it. “That was some years ago, however. Most likely they are in Sheffield, still.”
“Most likely?” This, from Charles. “You mean to say you do notknow?”
“I am afraid it has been many years since I last saw them. Certain unfortunate circumstances have kept me from maintaining a relationship with them, as I’m sure you are aware. Perhaps we will reunite sometime in the future.” Though she doubted it. They had never been particularly close, and neither her mother nor her siblings had even once come to her defense when she had been accused of murder.
“Harrumph.”
“Winston,” Mrs. Knight chided. “Jenny is going to befamily. Do mind your manners.”
Sebastian slanted a regretful look in her direction. “Pompous,” he mouthed at her, and she pressed her lips together to restrain the smile that wanted to emerge.
An uneasy silence settled over the table, and there was only the faintclinkof spoons against china, until at last the soup course was removed to be replaced by a salad, green and frothy with watercress and shavings of endive.
Charles spoke up at last. “I understand you manage a gaming hell, Madame Laurent.”
“Aladies’ club,” she corrected sweetly. “And, please, you must call me Jenny.” He wouldnever. She was certain of it.
Mrs. Knight bubbled over with an attempt to keep the conversation on an even keel, when her son and husband both seemed only to wish to upset it. “Ambrosia is lovely,” she said. “I wish I might have seen more of it—but what I did see was perfectly lovely indeed.”
Jenny offered her a smile, pleased with the praise. “Of course, I shall provide you with a subscription.”
And that had done it. Mr. Knight shoved himself to his feet, slamming down his napkin. “You willnotcorrupt my wife as you have corrupted my son!” he bellowed.
“Winston,” Mrs. Knight gasped, her horror scrawled across her face.
“And there it is.” Sebastian slouched in his chair, pressing his fingers to his eyes.
Jenny took a dainty nibble of her salad, entirely unmoved.
Her very serenity only provoked the elder Mr. Knight further. He trembled with fury, his jaw clenched. “I know your sort, madam. Youpreyedupon the innocence of my son!”
“Father!” Sebastian snapped. “She did no such thing.” That was the heat ofembarrassmentcrawling along his cheeks. “You needn’t speak of me as if I were some delicate blushing virgin.”
But hehadbeen. More or less. Lessblushingthan virgin, and notdelicateat all. And Jenny couldn’t quite contain the giddy giggle that slipped up her throat.
“She’susingyou, boy. She’s despoiled you—”
“Despoiled!”
