Page 24 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
“It’ll do for now.” She cast him a glance from beneath her long lashes. “You’re by no means out of the woods yet, sir.”
But I will be by the time the night is over.No matter what it took, he would get her to stay and do this, so help him God.
Chapter Seven
The minute Maria saw the regal dining room with its ornate plasterwork and walls of niches containing gorgeous marble statues, she had a fresh moment of panic. The long table was set with gold-chased goblets and fine china. The damask napkins might be frayed and the crystal finger bowls chipped, but there were pieces of silver on the table that she’d never even seen before, much less knew how to use. Meanwhile, several servants stood at the ready to do their master’s bidding.
Freddy, too, looked as if someone had just dropped him into a mathematics equation. How were they to navigate among such sophisticated people?
Especially given what they must think of her. It still mortified Maria to remember his sisters’ shocked looks when Oliver said they’d met in a brothel. She couldneverforgive him for that. She didn’t like being made a fool of,especially by a man who seemed to think that women existed only for his pleasure.
A wave of heat rose in her face. He’dkissedher, for pity’s sake! And for a moment, a very brief moment, it had done exactly what she’d always thought that a kiss was supposed to do—made her heart race and her pulse pound. That was the greatest indignity of all.
It had to be because of how Oliver had done it. Maybe Nathan just didn’t know much about kissing. She’d assumed that her lack of feeling when Nathan had kissed her washerfault, but maybe it was his.
Or maybe the intensity of her anger at Oliver had caused her to feel something she normally wouldn’t. Yes, that must be it. Her anger had merely riled up other passionate emotions.
At the moment he seemed angry himself, although clearly not at her. With a scowl, he left her at her chair, which thankfully was right next to Freddy’s, and went to the head of the table. He didn’t sit down.
“You may serve now,” his grandmother told the nearest servant.
“Not yet.” Oliver nodded to the servants. “Leave us.”
“What on earth—” his grandmother began.
“This is a rather splendid dinner, wouldn’t you say, Gran?” Waiting until after the servants were gone, Oliver strode to the sideboard and lifted the tops off the dishes one by one. “Fillet of veal. A sirloin of beef in wine sauce. Prawns and lobster . . .” He fixed his grandmother with a dark glance. “You brought your French chef with you.And apparently a goodly portion of the most expensive produce in London’s markets.”
“There’s no reason I shouldn’t eat well while I’m here,” she said with a sniff.
“Except that it’smyproperty.” He strode to the head of the table. “You’re in my house now, so while you’re here, you’ll eat what the estate can provide—venison and mutton and partridge—like the rest of us. There will be no more beeswax candles burning at all hours, and we’ll keep open only the rooms we need.”
“Come now, Oliver—”
“My own servants can accommodate you, so I want yours packed off to London in the morning. If these terms don’t suit you, then I suggest you return to London as well.”
His grandmother’s eyes glittered at him. “I suppose this is your way of punishing me for the demands I’m making on the five of you.”
“Not at all. For better or worse, this is my estate. You’ve never supported it before with your money, and you’ll not begin doing so now. I take care of my own.” His tone sharpened. “Think of it this way: it will demonstrate to my brothers and sisters exactly what they can expect if they don’t do your bidding.”
The elderly lady cast him a searching glance. “And make me feel sorry enough for them to relent in my plans, is that it?”
“You wanted me here showing an interest, and now I am. Those are my terms.”
“Oh, very well,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But the servants are here for tonight and the food is already laid out, so you might as well enjoy it.”
He hesitated before conceding that point with a nod.
“Thank God,” muttered the brother sitting on Maria’s other side—the blonder one named Lord Gabriel. “I adore prawns.”
“So do I,” Freddy said.
Busy trying to understand Oliver, Maria paid them no mind. She watched as he called the servants back in, then took his seat stiffly at the head of the table. Apparently he was a prouder man than she would have expected after his cavalier remarks.
Until now she’d assumed he was just some spoiled rich lord, willing to go to any length to gain his creature comforts. But his anger at his grandmother didn’t fit with that.
Nor did his seeming hatred of the place. She could tell from the musty smell pervading the rooms that he hadn’t lied about its having been closed up, but why would a man choose to let such a glorious place rot? Was it just a matter of money? Or did it have something to do with the bleak look she’d seen in his eyes more than once since they’d first approached Halstead Hall?
One thing was certain—there was more to the Marquess of Stoneville than met the eye. And more to this battle with his grandmother than she’d expected.
