Page 127 of The Lyon Whisperer
Chase returned his stare. “Has it? On behalf of myself and my wife, allow me to thank you and Lady Selbie for deigning to make the trip out of London to join us for my wife’s debut as a hostess.”
“Ah, yes. Congratulations on your recent nuptials, Culver.” Selbie shifted his focus to Fallsgate. His lips twitched. “Fallsgate, you must be proud your daughter made such an advantageous match…” He paused, and added, “After everything.”
The not-so-subtle reference to Amelia’s broken engagements, as well as Selbie’s obvious belief she could have looked much higher than Chase for a husband had she not managed to run off two candidates, caught Chase off-guard for the first time all evening.
This wasn’t about Chase after all. Selbie had something against Fallsgate.
The marquis went on, “She’s the spitting image of your wife at her age. Apparently, much the same temperament, as well.”
The earl went utterly still. Only a muscle in his hard jaw ticked. When he spoke, his voice was lethally soft. “My wife was a consummate lady, as is my daughter, of whom, as a matter of fact, I am very proud.”
“Of course.”
“As for her choice of husbands, I could not be more pleased.”
Selbie arched a brow.
“A decorated officer, a man of integrity, whose acclaim drew the attention of the Crown and earned him a title in his own right, a future viscount, who dotes on my daughter. What more could a father desire?”
“What more indeed?” Selbie, who’d opted for brandy, downed the remainder of his snifter in one toss, then pulled an ornately carved gold timepiece from his waistcoat. “Lady Selbie and I must be off. The hour grows late and there is the matter of the ride back to London.”
Chase pushed back from the table and rose. “Let us rejoin the ladies.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He led theensemble of men toward the drawing room with an internal sigh of relief. Soon he and Amelia could bid farewell to their guests. Between Selbie’s priggish attitude and Fallsgate’s eagle eye, the night had more in common with scaling the trenches while ducking enemy fire than a restful evening of entertainment.
Nearing the drawing room, feminine voices resonated—but the echoes did not seem to emanate from within the chamber. The sound more cascaded through the corridor from the back of the house.
Chase turned his head in the direction of the kitchens and saw the four smiling and chattering women, his wife at the lead, moving briskly in his direction.
Spotting him, Amelia came to an abrupt halt. The three following her stumbled into first her, then each other. Much giggling ensued.
Amazing how light the atmosphere around the ladies seemed absent the men’s company.
Chase stepped aside, urging the men to bypass him into the drawing room.
Selbie and his uncle meandered through the doorway.
Fallsgate gave him a hard look and remained rooted beside him.
Amelia resumed walking, albeit at a more sedate pace. As she neared them, she shot a brief, anxious gaze toward her father. “My lord, we did not expect the gentlemen to join us so soon.”
“That much is clear. May I ask”—he resisted the urge to stretch his neck ’til it cracked—“where you and the ladies ventured?”
Again, her gaze slid to her father. “As to that…er…”
Chase had an all-too-clear notion of where she’d taken them, and he feared Fallsgate had worked it out as well.
She lifted her chin. “I took them to meet Rose, Fergus and Roddy.”
“In the kitchens,” Chase announced softly.
His wife had dragged three high-ranking noblewomen, dressed in all their finery, through hot kitchens, no doubt past scullery maids engaged elbow-deep in sudsy water scrubbing pots, pans, and dirty dishes, to the drying room to which the dogs had been relegated.
“Bloody hell,” Fallsgate muttered under his breath.
“You can say that again,” Chase seconded.
