Page 14 of If the Slipper Fits
She appeared oblivious, seemingly more concerned with smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirts than noting any appreciative looks aimed in her direction.
“Mrs. Jones, may I escort you into the dining hall?” Caden proffered his elbow. “An extension of my thanks. Again.”
Lady Wentworth nodded her regal head once in approval. She spared a moment to eye Jones down the length of her nose as if countermanding any argument before nudging Hammond to lead her away.
Caden swiftly understood why she’d sent the silent reproach. Unless he read the scene wrong, and he didn’t see how he could, Jones meant to refuse his invitation.
Why, for God’s sake? What had he ever done to her? Perhaps he’d been slightly, incrementally, forward. But shewasa widow, and this was a Summer house party. Most women would be flattered.If you do say so yourself,an irritating inner voice--sounding very much like his brother's--scoffed.
His neck prickled with heat. Embarrassment, he realized. Lowering his arm, he cleared his throat. “Unless you’d rather—”
“Thank you, yes,” she said in a breathless rush, almost as if she forced the words out. She placed her small, gloved hand into the crook of his elbow.
Relief akin to a shot of strong whiskey infused his entire body. He covered her hand with his and sent, he hoped, a blithe smile. “Shall we?” She gave a small nod and he started for the parlor door.
Society dictated high ranking guests enter the dining hall soon after the host and hostess, to then take their seats near the head of the table.
Caden, though a Claybourne man, suffered no such constraints. He strolled along, Jones at his side, inclining his head toward other pairs to precede them.
Soon the number of milling guests dwindled to a mere handful. Caden had the sudden inclination to fill one of this afternoon’s baskets with wine, bread, and cheese, and disappear in the garden maze till dawn.
Not that she’d agree to join him. What was it about the woman that awakened the mischief maker inside him?
He got another whiff of her intoxicating scent, woodsy and floral, elegant and stirring and felt his groin tighten. He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan.
“Mr. Thurgood?”
He gazed down at her upturned face, locking eyes with her. His insides tightened. “Mrs. Jones?”
“Is there some reason you wish to delay dinner?”
Yes.“Whatever do you mean?”
One corner of her mouth quirked upward and wry amusement danced in her eyes. “As my father used to say, if we moved any slower, we’d travel—”
“—In reverse,” Caden finished for her, stopping dead in his tracks. An instant shock of deja-vu blanked his mind. He turned his gaze toward her, mouth open to explain.
Her face had lost all color. She ripped her hand free of his arm.
“Mrs. Jones, are you quite all right?”
She stumbled backwards, practically tripping over her skirts in her haste to put distance between them.
What the devil?
“I…no. I have the headache. Goodnight.” Fisting her hands in her skirts, she turned and fled, her pace just shy of a run.
He stared after her, utterly bemused. There was no getting around the truth. The woman wanted nothing to do with him. It was the oddest thing. A woman whose interest he’d actually set out to engage shunninghim.
Fine. He would not trail after her like some desperate puppy. He did not chase after any woman. Jaw clenched, he took one determined step toward the dining hall and stopped when he felt an object under his boot. He glanced down. Noted a mound of material that looked like…satin? Stooping low he scooped up what had to be one of Jones’ evening slippers.
Rising, he tucked the lone slipper into his inner jacket pocket. Dinner could wait.
Chapter Four
An annoying stitch in her side forced Anna to slow her pace from a trot to a walk. She ought not be running like a thief through the dimly lit corridors in any case.
Thus far she'd passed no one in her quest to reach Lady Wentworth’s suite. Good thing. Even now she would draw curious eyes. She glared down at the stockinged toes of her right foot peeking out from beneath her silk skirts with every other step. How on earth had she managed to lose one of her favorite slippers?
