Page 13 of The Duke of Spice
Matthew rolled his eyes. “We’ve just got here. I haven’t even had a chance to catch up with any of my friends. And now you want to go and eat.”
He was doing her a favor in coming tonight. Unlike Richard who owed her a lifetime of good deeds, Matthew wasn’t in Victoria’s debt.
“Sorry, that was rude of me. I tell you what, sister dearest. How about you head to the supper room and grab a bite to eat. In the meantime, I’ll go and conduct a quick sortie mission andsee if I can find this mysterious duke. We can meet back here in half an hour.”
What an excellent brother. They worked well as a team. “You are full of good ideas, Matthew. I promise to recommend you to all my friends when they start looking for a future spouse.”
He gave her an odd look, then headed off in search of the Duke of Saffron Walden.
As Victoria made her way across the other side of the room in search of the supper room, she pondered the duke’s name. Saffron was a spice. An expensive one. Wouldn’t it be amusing if she ended up marrying a man who had food in his title?
Victoria stopped and asked a footman for the location of the supper room. At this stage of the evening, a little after eight, few guests would be partaking of the food. An early visit to the supper table was always on her list at parties. She’d found it paid to look over the offerings before deciding whether it was worth returning when the official suppertime of eleven o’clock was announced.
I just need a small plate of sandwiches, that should keep the wolves at bay.
Making her way through the door of the supper room, Victoria’s steps slowed as she took in the tall, well-dressed gentleman who was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, closely examining the offerings at the largest of the tables. He raised his head and looked at her.
All thoughts of food disappeared from her mind as she found herself staring into a pair of blue gray eyes that took her breath away. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Victoria let out a strange noise that was half sigh, half groan.
Please god, don’t let him be the Marquis of Guiseley.
Chapter Six
With his hands gently held behind his back, Robert slowly scrutinized the heavily laden supper table. His critical mind offered up its sharp opinion of the display.
The usual sort of cakes were on show.
Too sweet, and I expect several days old.
Bread puddings.
Popular but unimaginative.
Roasts.
Yes, but why do they all look so dry and overcooked? How hard can it be to cook a bloody roast?
Thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches.
I see we gave up caring at that point.
Reaching the end of the table, he stopped and looked back. When it came to this evening’s catering, the hostess had clearly chosen the safest, dullest route possible. Nothing appealed to Robert’s well-developed palate. The only remedy for this bland selection would be a spiced fish pie from the bakery near the Old Bailey. He’d stop by there after he had left tonight’s event.
Robert Tolley wasn’t normally one for attending these sorts of social evenings, but he’d heard on the grapevine that hispotential new business client might be here tonight. The lure of a profitable contract was all he needed to put on his best evening suit and hail a hack. From what he’d been able to ascertain, the gentleman in question was yet to arrive.
He'd passed by the open door of the supper room a little while earlier and Robert’s interest in what lay inside had been roused. But after making his way around the room, his arousal had died within minutes.
He sighed under his breath. “Speaking of arousal, I really need to get a warm woman under me and soon. Food can’t be the only thing which stirs my blood.”
Not that he could recall the last time he’d held a woman in his arms. Certainly not this calendar year, and possibly not even last year. The Duke of Saffron Walden was in the middle of a long self-imposed sexual drought. He was far too busy stalking the darkened roads on the outskirts of London and stealing spice to find the time to indulge in the other sort of riding.
His mother, god rest her soul, would be stirring in her grave. He was one and thirty, unwed, and with not an heir in sight. Before he got too much longer in the tooth, he was going to have to do something about securing the future of the Tolley family bloodline.
Disillusioned with the food, Robert took a step back from the table. The quicker he could make a discreet exit from the supper room, the better.
A young woman now appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the food. Then at him. Then let out what he took to be a loud sigh of disappointment.
Well good evening to you too.
