The Laird Who Loved Me (8 page)

The duke pointed at Alexander’s plate. “That pear. It’s poached in cinnamon, you know. One of the few we managed to get off the trees from the garden.”

Alexander looked at the pear. Delicately white, the flesh was sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. “Yes, I’m going to eat it.”

The duke looked disappointed, but after a moment he brightened. “Perhaps we can cut it in half and—”

“Roxburge!” Georgiana appeared beside her husband, her lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The duke, his gray hair thinned to nothing on the top of his noggin, pointed a shaking finger at Alexander’s plate and said in a querulous voice, “MacLean took the last pear from the buffet, so I asked him if he would share it.”

Flags of high color marred Georgiana’s cheeks. “You did
not
ask him such a thing!”

Roxburge rubbed his snuffbox with one thumb. “I . . . it’s my house and my pear.”

“Once it was placed on MacLean’s plate, it became
his
pear.” Georgiana clasped the duke’s arm and literally began to drag him away, her mouth tight with anger. “Sit in your seat at the head of the table and leave our guests alone.”

Roxburge allowed himself to be led off, though he complained loudly, “I just wanted the pear! It’s the last one and—”

She shushed him as if he were a child of two. Lips thrust out, he plopped into his seat, smacked his snuffbox on the table beside his plate, and demanded that one of the footmen go to the kitchen and search for more pears.

Down the table, Dervishton chuckled. “It’s Beauty and the Beast. I wonder what Georgiana sees in him.”

“His bank accounts, I would think,” Alexander answered.

“She’s a beautiful woman; she could have anyone.”

She can now
.
But in the beginning, Roxburge was the one who was doing the favor.
Alexander had discovered that little tidbit quite by accident. He’d been in the stables and had overheard the butler—who’d been angry at Georgiana’s peremptory manner toward his nephew, the new footman—discussing his employer’s origins in a vigorous tone of voice.

It was amazing what one could learn if one merely listened. And after thinking about it, Alexander easily recognized signs that Georgiana wasn’t born to the role she played. She was far more dismissive of the servants than most ladies of breeding were, as if she had something to prove. She reminded him of a person speaking a foreign language, overcorrect and stiff.

Viscount Falkland wandered into the breakfast room and came to stand beside Dervishton’s chair. “G’morning! What’s for breakfast?”

Dervishton grinned. “Don’t ask for pears. MacLean here got the last one, much to our host’s dismay.”

Falkland looked to the head seat and watched as Georgiana placed strawberries on the duke’s plate, then took her place at the other end of the table. “It’s almost criminal, all of that beauty in bed with that shriveled-up shell of a man.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s been years since Georgiana visited that bed,” Dervishton said drily.

The viscount’s plump, childish face cleared. “Thank goodness for that. I think he prizes that gold snuffbox more than his wife, anyway. It never leaves his hand, and they say he sleeps with it under his pillow.”

“Poor Georgiana,” Dervishton murmured.

“Don’t waste your sympathy,” Alexander said. “She isn’t suffering overmuch; you’re sitting in one of her many consolation prizes. Roxburge paid over eighty thousand pounds for this house.”

Dervishton whistled silently while Falkland winced.

“At least she got something out of it.” Falkland glanced at the buffet. “I’d better get something to eat before the ladies arrive. I came down late to breakfast yesterday because I had trouble getting my cravat to look just so, and by the time I arrived, there wasn’t a single egg to be had.”

Dervishton eyed the viscount’s neckwear. “Yes, we can see that you decided to give up your cravat for eggs today.”

“What’s wrong with my crav—” Falkland gaped at the doorway, then frantically adjusted his cuffs and smoothed his waistcoat.

Alexander followed the plump young lord’s gaze and found Caitlyn entering the room arm in arm with Miss Ogilvie. They made a pretty picture, and Alexander would wager the family castle they knew it.

“Good God, she’s—” croaked Falkland, turning bright red. “She’s an
angel
! A true angel!” He subsided into wide-eyed bliss.

“Easy, fool,” Dervishton muttered. “You’ll embarrass us all.” He stood and flourished a bow. “Good morning! I trust you both slept well.”

“I certainly did,” Miss Ogilvie said.

“As did I. I slept until almost ten,” Miss Hurst added in her rich, melodious voice.

Falkland visibly shivered, and it was all Alexander could do not to chide the fool. The youth was smitten, and judging from the way Dervishton was watching Caitlyn, he was in no better shape.

Good God, did every man except him fall madly in love with the chit? It was damnably annoying.

Falkland leaned forward eagerly. “Miss Hurst, can I carry your plate at the buffet and—”

“Don’t even try it.” Dervishton slipped his arm through Caitlyn’s. “Miss Hurst needs someone with steadier hands to hold her plate.”

Falkland stiffened. “I have steady hands, and I can also—”

“For the love of God!” Alexander snapped, unable to take another moment. “Leave the chit alone! She can get her own damned breakfast.”

Falkland turned bright red. “I was just—”

“Sausage!” Caitlyn looked past him to the buffet. “There’s only one left and I intend to have it. If you will pardon me a moment, please.” She slipped her arm from Dervishton’s, whisked around him, and began to fill a plate while exclaiming at the sight of kippers.

“Excuse me!” Falkland scurried off to pester Caitlyn.

Chuckling, Miss Ogilvie followed him to the buffet.

Dervishton returned to his seat. “Well! I’ve never been dismissed for a plate of sausage before.”

Alexander had to hide a reluctant smile. He should have been irritated, but his sense of humor was too strong to allow it. He watched Caitlyn chat animatedly to Falkland about the variety of fruit on the buffet as she filled the plate he dutifully held. Last night she’d been equally enthusiastic about their dinner, her reaction immediate and genuine. Their previous relationship had happened so quickly, so fiercely, that he hadn’t learned her everyday likes and dislikes. Not that it mattered, he told himself, dispelling a flicker of unease. He knew her character, and that was all he needed to know.

“Falkland is a fool,” Dervishton said into the silence. “He is escorting the charming Miss Hurst this way. I’d have taken her to the other end of the table, away from the competition.”

Alexander watched as the weak-chinned viscount assisted Caitlyn to a chair down a little and across from Alexander. Caitlyn was chuckling at something
the viscount said while he watched her with an adoring air that nauseated Alexander.

When Alexander turned to say as much to Dervishton, he realized that the young lord’s gaze was locked on Caitlyn, too. “Watch,” he murmured to Alexander. “You’ll be glad you did.”

“Watch what?”

A mesmerized look in his eyes, Dervishton didn’t answer.

Muttering an oath, Alexander turned and regarded Caitlyn. The morning sunlight slanted across her, smoothing over her creamy skin and lighting her golden hair. Her long lashes, thick and dark, shadowed her brown eyes and made them appear darker. She looked fresh and lovely, no different from what he expected.

Irritated, Alexander shrugged. “So?”

“You’re an impatient sort, aren’t you?” Dervishton flicked a glance at Alexander, then turned back to Caitlyn. “Wait a moment and you’ll see.”

Alexander scowled, but as he did so, Caitlyn leaned over her plate and closed her eyes, an expression of deep pleasure on her face. Her expression was like that of a lover, a sensual yearning.

Instantly Alexander’s throat tightened and his heart thundered an extra beat. “What in hell is she doing?”

“Smelling the ham, I believe.” Dervishton’s voice was oddly deep.

Alexander was fairly certain his own voice wouldn’t be normal either as he watched Caitlyn savor the scent of her breakfast.

She smiled and lifted her fork and knife … and licked her lips.

“Good God,” Dervishton whispered hoarsely.

Alexander’s body flash heated, and for one wild, crazed moment he
wanted
that look—wanted to own it, to possess it, for it to be directed at him and no one else.

Caitlyn slipped her fork beneath a small bit of ham and brought it to her lips.

If he had thought her expression rapturous before, he’d been wrong. Her blatantly sensual expression now was beyond description. “Has she never had food before?”

Dervishton answered quietly, “I think it’s the sophistication of the dishes that she savors.”

“Ham and eggs?”

“Seasoned with chives, butter, and a touch of thyme—Roxburge keeps an excellent table. I have seldom—” Caitlyn slipped a forkful of eggs between her lips. “Damn,” Dervishton breathed as Caitlyn closed her eyes and slowly chewed, her lips moist.

Damn indeed. The woman was talented at garnering attention, but this was beyond enough! Alexander saw that every man in the room was watching her eat—even Roxburge had a greedy expression on his faded face.

Alexander’s jaw tightened. Then he leaned forward and said in a clear voice, “Miss Hurst, I’ve never seen a woman eat with such relish.”

She lowered her fork. “I doubt I enjoy my food any more than anyone else.” She turned to Miss Ogilvie, who’d just taken a seat. “Don’t you think that’s true, Miss Ogilvie?”

“Oh, we all have our weaknesses,” Miss Ogilvie said promptly. “For example, no one loves chocolate cake as much as I.”

Beside her, the Earl of Caithness grinned. “I’ve been known to hoard truffles.”

“Don’t let MacLean fool you,” Dervishton added with wicked twinkle. “He almost fought our host over the last pear.”

Caitlyn blinked. “There were
pears
?” She leaned forward and, with a look of deep longing, regarded his plate.

Alexander’s jaw tightened as an unfamiliar stab of envy pierced him.
Good God, I’m jealous of a damn pear!
The ridiculous thought irked him yet more. With grim determination, he announced, “Yes, I have the last pear.” Alexander cut a piece and made a show of tasting it. “Mmm! Cinnamon. Excellent.”

Her gaze narrowed and her lips pressed firmly together, which made the pear taste all the better to Alexander.

Georgiana’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “Lord Dervishton, you mentioned last night that you’d enjoy a ride this afternoon.”

Dervishton nodded, his gaze drifting back to Caitlyn.

“It’s brisk today, but I shall have the horses readied.” Georgiana looked at Alexander and her expression softened. “You don’t normally ride for pleasure, I recall.”

He shrugged. “I ride while attending my lands. I don’t normally find it a relaxing pastime.”

Lady Kinloss, seated at Georgiana’s left, clapped her hands. “A ride would be delightful! Though her grace and some others”—she sent a quick glance at Alexander—“are not much for riding, I’m sure the
rest
of us would enjoy it. Perhaps we could even visit the Snaid.”

Miss Ogilvie looked up from a low conversation she was having with Caithness. “The Snaid? Is that a castle?”

Lady Kinloss tittered. “Lud, no! The Snaid is what the locals call Inversnaid. It’s a very small village, but there’s an inn there with exceptionally good fare and some astounding views of the Ben, which is quite a lovely mountain. We could ride to the Snaid this afternoon, have tea, and return in plenty of time to get ready for dinner.”

“Miss Hurst, do you ride?” Dervishton asked.

“Somewhat. I was learning in London when—” Her gaze slipped to Alexander, and then, catching his sudden gaze, she colored. “Of course I can ride.”

He lifted his brows, amused at her pink-stained cheeks. Though he knew that while she was
talking
about their rides in the park, she was
thinking
about the kisses that followed. As was he.

Glad to know that those moments still flustered her, he allowed his gaze to flicker over her mouth. “Miss Hurst is an excellent …
rider
.”

She flushed a deeper pink, her gaze flying to meet his. “Thank you, Lord MacLean, but I wouldn’t classify myself as excellent.”

“Oh, come now. Don’t be so shy about your talents.”

All eyes turned toward Caitlyn. She flicked Alexander a cold glance. “While I can ride, I don’t know the horses in her grace’s stables and—”

Alexander drawled, “You are worried they wouldn’t be up to your standards, of course. Having seen you ride, I can certainly understand your concern.”

Dervishton raised his brows. “You have ridden together before?”

“I had the privilege of teaching Miss Hurst when she was in London last season.”

A distinct pause in the conversation followed.

Caitlyn’s cheeks couldn’t be brighter. “Fortunately, I’ve had more instruction since.”

Alexander’s humor disappeared. What in hell did she mean by
that
? Was she talking about riding, or kissing? Dammit, she’d been ensconced in the countryside for the last three months! Had some country bumpkin dared touch her?

Alexander’s blood boiled at the thought of Caitlyn’s pink-and-white perfection in the hands of a rough farmer.

“Your Grace,” Miss Ogilvie interjected, “I’m afraid my riding skills are quite negligible. I will need a gentle mount.”

Georgiana seemed amused by this artless confession. “Don’t worry, Miss Ogilvie. I have quite a number of smaller, gentler mounts in the stables for just such a reason.”

Miss Ogilvie sighed in relief. “Thank you, Your Grace!”

“Of course.” Georgiana sent a look at Alexander from under her lashes and said in a lazy voice, “While most of you are enjoying a ride, I will stay here and attend to some correspondence. That should be a lovely way to spend the afternoon.”

Alexander wished she’d try for a little subtlety, but he supposed it was beyond her. To show his disinterest, he turned back to his plate to enjoy his pear. But as he raised his fork, he realized the pear was gone.