Wedding Night With the Earl (8 page)

After the plates were cleared away and Mrs. Henshawe paused to take a breath, the earl turned to Katherine and said, “I must say, Miss Wright, that course reminded me of you.”

Candlelight sparked in his eyes, and she felt warmth emanating from him, even though his words perplexed her. Many gentlemen had commented in various ways on her beauty, her gown, and her hair, but no one had ever mentioned food.

She wrinkled her nose at his suggestion. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to food, my lord. In what way do you mean?”

“It was beautiful to look at, as are you. One bite would be as sweet as you are. The next would be vinegary, as you can be when you don’t like what I say. Occasionally I would get a little taste of both at the same time, and that was when it was most delectable, as are you.”

Katherine looked into his eyes and knew that he wasn’t just flattering her. He meant what he was saying. He enjoyed the fact that she had no qualms about taking him to task and that her tartness had not bothered him. The underlying meaning of his words spread over her like a fire-warmed blanket on a cold night and rushed heated color to her cheeks.

To counter the way she suddenly felt, she laughed softly and said, “Your compliments never stop, do they, my lord. Still, I’m glad to know you are enjoying the food.”

“I’m quite pleased with the food and the company, Miss Wright.”

And so was she.

Katherine picked up her wine, sipped, and thought on what he’d said while the servant cleared away their plates.

“What happened to your leg?” Lord Greyhawke asked as the servant moved on.

Katherine replaced her glass, picked up the starched white napkin, and dabbed at one corner of her mouth. “An accident,” she said, not allowing her gaze to meet his.

“What kind?”

“Carriage,” she said, fixing her gaze on the flickering flame of the candle in front of her.

“Was it recently?”

“No.”

Suddenly, she was the one who was uncomfortable. She knew people wondered about her injury. It was natural to be curious, but the earl was the first person in quite some time to be brave enough to query her about it. Once again reminding her he was not a gentleman she could take lightly in any conversation.

“Was it a long time ago?”

“Yes.”

“Were you a child?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“Your answers are short,” he said in a sympathetic tone.

She remained quiet, staring at the light glimmering off the wineglass.

“And you aren’t looking at me,” he added in a low tone. “Does it still upset you to talk about it?”

“Yes,” she answered truthfully.

How could it not?

Her entire family was killed. Her father. Her mother and the baby she was expecting. Her two older sisters and her brother. All gone from her life in an instant.

“It’s been over twelve years now,” she said. “I know it should no longer bother me, but there are times I remember every detail of it as clearly as if it had been yesterday, and I just have to banish them from my mind.”

“I can understand that,” he said softly. “How did it happen?”

Before she could answer, a servant placed a piece of baked white fish surrounded by five delicate oysters in front of her. The connection she’d momentarily felt with him was broken. He was probing but gentle. For an instant, she’d actually wanted to answer his question.

Katherine inhaled deeply and then turned to look at him, wondering why she had opened up to him and said anything at all. She never spoke about the accident or her family to anyone. Long ago, she’d discovered that if she didn’t talk about her family, if she didn’t try to remember them, it didn’t hurt so badly.

“Lord Greyhawke,” she said, adding more censure to her voice than she had intended, “do you want me asking personal questions about your past?”

His brows flew up defensively and he shifted in the chair. Even though he was obviously taken aback by her question, he answered calmly, “No, I can’t say I do.”

“And neither do I want you asking me.” She picked up her fork and cut into the steaming fish.

“I get the distinct impression that you enjoy giving me information a little at a time.”

“You would be wrong.”

They ate in silence for a short time, but finally he said, “You think I was intruding and prying?”

“Prying?” she repeated. She saw no cruelty or eagerness for gossip in his expression; still, she buffered her words by saying, “Perhaps. Or maybe you’re just as curious as the next person as to why an otherwise very strong and healthy young lady must use a cane to walk.”

“You certainly haven’t let it undermine your self-confidence.”

Just as she was getting ready to tell herself the earl was an arrogant man, caring only about what he wanted and not worth her time, he surprised her. This time by giving her guarded approval. She remained quiet but gave him a hint of a smile before lifting a forkful of the fish into her mouth.

“Was it broken?” Lord Greyhawke asked, scooping two oysters onto his fork.

Twice. She could have told him, but she didn’t like to talk about her injury. When she’d finally healed after the second break, she’d never again let her leg hamper her daily life except for the fact that she couldn’t run, or skip, or dance like other young ladies. And, well, she had to take her time going up or down the stairs, too. But with the aid of her trusty cane, she could walk. She could even carry a cup of tea from the buffet to the breakfast table without spilling a drop.

She swallowed and turned to face him with an incredulous stare. “Did I not just say I don’t want to talk about my past?”

“That was when we were discussing the accident,” he answered innocently. “I was talking about your leg just now.”

He was unbelievable. “They are one and the same and you know it. Or almost, anyway. You are quite incorrigible.”

“I’m interested,” he corrected.

In me or my injury?
she started to ask, then thought better of it before the provoking words tumbled from her lips and instead returned her attention to her food. The scent of poached fish rose from the plate, and she thought,
Two more courses and then I will be free of the persistent earl with his probing questions
.

For a short time they ate in silence. She asked her uncle if he was enjoying his dinner. He smiled and nodded. The earl talked to the countess and Mrs. Henshawe again. The empty plates were removed and replaced with a thick slice of venison smothered in a dark onion gravy. After her first bite, she watched Lord Greyhawke cut into his meat with gusto. She liked the strength she saw in his hands as he worked his knife and fork and that he had such a healthy appetite.

She had hardly eaten three bites before his plate was clean. She’d never seen either of her uncles or any other gentleman enjoy a carving of meat as much as the earl seemed to.

She laid her knife and fork aside and said, “You ate as if you were starving, my lord.”

He wiped his mouth and smiled sheepishly. “For food like that, Miss Wright, I was. That was the best meal I’ve had since I left London over two years ago. I hope you will pardon my lack of manners.”

“I don’t know why, but I rather liked watching you enjoy your food so much.”

He looked down at her plate. “You’ve hardly touched yours.”

“It’s usually the case, I’m afraid. By the time I’ve had the soup, vegetable, fruit, and fish, I have little room for the main course of the evening and dessert.”

He nodded. “And what is the dessert tonight?” he asked.

“Bread-and-fig pudding.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

She looked down at her plate and without thinking asked, “Would you like to finish mine?”

His brows rose in anticipation. “Would it be acceptable to switch plates at your uncle’s dinner party?”

She pursed her lips. “No, of course not. I don’t even know why I offered. It was such a strange thing for me to do.”

Lord Greyhawke looked around the table. “Everyone is engaged in conversation,” he said, a hint of mischief lacing his tone. “I don’t think anyone would see us.”

As far as Katherine knew, she had never disgraced herself at her uncle’s table, but before she had the good sense to rescind her initial offer to the earl, she answered, “Then let’s do it.”

They lifted their plates at the same time. She took hold of his plate first, he released it, and all went well with the exchange; but when he grasped her plate, his fingers landed on top of hers. They both froze with the plate held between them. At his touch, Katherine’s pulse quickened, her breasts tightened, and her skin tingled. The unexpected warmth of his hand on hers filled her with a breathless fluttering in her throat. She tried to look away from him, but it was as if something held her spellbound and looking into his fathomless gaze.

She sensed he was as surprised as she by whatever it was that happened between them from their accidental touch. Finally, he slipped the plate out of her grasp, letting his fingers slide lazily down hers as he did.

When she looked up, she saw that Mrs. Henshawe stared openmouthed and wide-eyed at her. A quick glance at her uncle told the same story. And she had no doubt that if she looked at the Dowager Countess of Littlehaven, she would see the same horror-stricken expression at such unacceptable social behavior.

Trying to hide the flush creeping into her cheeks, Katherine picked up her napkin and gently coughed into it while Lord Greyhawke did the sensible thing and settled for a drink of his wine. But their condemnation from the onlookers was not the reason Katherine’s cheeks were burning. It was the realization of what had just happened between her and the earl. What she’d seen in Lord Greyhawke’s eyes was his desire for her, and what she’d felt from his touch was her desire for him.

What in heaven’s name was she going to do? She was attracted to the earl they called the beast.

Chapter 8

And weighest thy words before thou givest them breath.

—Othello,
act 3, scene 3

“Good night,” Katherine called, and waved to Penny as she climbed into the carriage.

“Was that the last of our guests?” Aunt Leola asked as she and Katherine stood at the bottom of the front steps.

“Ours, yes,” Katherine said, looking across the street. “Uncle Quillsbury’s, no. I count three carriages waiting and probably one or two more that we can’t see from here because of the hedge.”

“No doubt the duke will be ready for bed and shoo them all out within an hour, but we won’t worry about him. Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about your evening sitting beside the infamous Earl of Greyhawke. You know, I only heard this morning that he was back in London. I have no idea how long he’s been here, but I rushed an invitation over to his house, never expecting him to respond to such a late request. To my surprise, he immediately sent back a note accepting.”

Probably because he was starving for a hearty meal.

“Luckily, I was able to squeeze in one more chair,” her aunt said, and then paused before adding, “Right beside you.”

“Why did you seat him beside me?”

“It was the easiest way to avoid upsetting my entire seating arrangements, of course. It would have been a nightmare of shuffling back and forth at the last minute if I’d tried to move anyone else.” She purposefully paused. “I’m thinking now perhaps I should have.”

“Why is that?” Katherine asked casually, though she was sure she knew the reason. She’d seen Lady Littlehaven bending her aunt’s ear with a prolonged conversation.

Her aunt looked at her with piercing green eyes. “Did you really exchange dinner plates with the earl?”

Katherine would bet her pin money that the Dowager Countess of Littlehaven was the one who’d spilled the tattle. Still, she asked, “Which one told you? Lady Littlehaven or Mrs. Henshawe?”

“Both.”

Oh dear!

There was nothing to do but admit to the breach in manners. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but all I can say is that I offered the food to Lord Greyhawke before I thought about the consequences.”

“That is obvious, my dear. I did my best to smooth over your peccadillo by assuring them you saw a chip in the china and you simply couldn’t let an earl eat off a dinner plate that had been damaged. Why, the broken piece could have been in his food. Imagine what would have happened if he’d bitten down on it!”

Katherine laughed. “Auntie, how did you get so clever?”

“With age, my dear. There are not many things that haven’t passed by me at least once or twice. But I’m baffled as to why you would do such a thing. He had his own food.”

Her aunt was not only clever, she was curious. Katherine shifted her weight from her good leg to her cane. She didn’t want to be asked more questions about Lord Greyhawke. She had already been set upon by Melba, Madeline, and Penny twice tonight about the earl, and other ladies who stayed for coffee, too. Plus there was constant chatter in the drawing room about him and all the possible reasons he might have returned to Town after such a long absence. Most of the ladies were certain he’d come to London looking for a countess. Katherine had once again successfully dodged having to give any of them information about her discussions with the earl.

Lady Leola would not be so easy to evade.

“He had already finished his dinner and he still looked hungry,” she said, deciding the truth was the best answer.

Her aunt looked aghast. “Hungry? That’s preposterous. How does anyone look hungry?”

“Aunt Lee, I’m sorry. It’s done. Over. All I can do is ask that you forgive me.”

“Of course. That is not the issue here.” She reached up and patted Katherine’s cheek affectionately. “Knowing Lady Littlehaven as I do, I fear this incident will end up in the scandal sheets. And the duke will be asking me why you can get your name in gossip columns but not on a marriage license.”

Auntie Lee looked so stricken that Katherine felt truly repentant for her antics at the dinner table. But how could she explain that even though she knew it was wrong, she’d wanted to do it for the earl?