Finally Mary laughed. “I doubt copious cups of tea will tire me, and after three days in a carriage, even a well-sprung one, I’d love to walk.”
“I’ll arrange for a footman to accompany us. I imagine the proprieties are the same as in London.”
“Yes.” She heaved what sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “I’d forgotten.”
She wasn’t the only one. After living for a year as a “married lady,” the constraints of being an unwed female might chafe. He should apply his mind to the best way to turn that to his advantage. By this time they’d reached the door of the drawing room. Lady Theo and Lord Titus stood by a window, talking. They turned when Kit and Mary entered.
He bowed slightly. “Good evening.”
“Mr. Featherton.” Lady Theo glided toward them. “Just the gentleman I need to speak with.” She drew him away as Lord Titus engaged Mary in conversation. “One of my dear friends has a daughter who ispainfully shy. I mentioned to her you were here, and we thought you might engage her daughter for a dance. I understand you have a way of drawing young ladies out.”
Not what Kit wanted to hear, or do for that matter. “Of course, my lady. I am happy to be of assistance.”
“Come, Mr. Featherton, what do you prefer to drink before dinner?”
“Sherry is my preference.” He stole a glance at Mary, who was in discussion with Lord Titus. She already had a glass of sherry.
“I believe we can find some. I understand Lady Phoebe’s uncle, the Marquis of St. Eth, is a connoisseur.”
“As is the lady herself.” If Lady Theo had another point to make, he wished she’d get on with it and stop this slow perambulation around the room, the sole purpose of which appeared to be to keep him away from Mary.
“Indeed. I do hope she will not be disappointed by my cellar.”
Before he could answer, the rest of the group arrived. Lord Titus served them all glasses of sherry.
“This is fine for before dinner,” Lord Titus said, “but afterward, I have some well-aged Scotch from my family’s stock. In my opinion, it is better than the finest brandy.”
“I’ve had the pleasure of sampling Scotch whisky a few times,” Marcus remarked. “When it’s well brewed and aged, it can indeed rival a fine French brandy.”
Lord Titus, in the act of lifting a glass to his mouth, paused. “And where did you drink it? I thought you hadn’t been to Scotland before, and to the best of my knowledge, no self-respecting Englishman would willingly partake of it.”
Lifting his lips into a smile, Marcus saluted him. “In general, you are correct, my lord. My father would not have it in his house. I, however, traveled broadly for eight years and had the great good luck to come across more than one of your countrymen. They always seem to have a taste of home around. In parts of America and Canada, it’s actually produced in small quantities.”
Lord Titus laughed. “You’ve put me in my place, my lord. I should not make suppositions.”
“Nor,” Lady Theo said in a harsh tone directed at her husband, “do we wish to dredge up all the problems between England and Scotland.”
He strolled over to her and kissed her cheek. “My apologies toyou, my love, and our guests. In my defense, I’m suffering from political overstimulation.”
Kit began to amble toward Mary, but before he could take his place next to her again, Lady Theo had the women in conversation at the other end of the long room. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his host and hostess were purposely keeping Mary and him apart. That he would not allow.
Mary glanced at him. Yet the moment her gaze met his, she lowered her long, dark lashes and turned her head. What the devil did that mean? He never should have agreed to come here until they were married. After all, Huntley and Caro had wed before they loved each other. Kit could have made it work as well.Damn it all.
From the moment Lord Titus had drawn her aside, Mary had surreptitiously studied Kit from beneath her lashes. Then their gazes met. It never occurred to her he’d be watching her as well. She missed him by her side, and no matter what else she attempted to think about, it all came back to him. Next to her Caro laughed, but Mary had missed the joke. Surely, he’d escort her to dinner. He was coming her way, after all. Yet when the meal was announced, her host was bowing before her, not Kit.
Lord Titus held out his arm. “My lady, allow me.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he escorted her to the seat on his left. Phoebe sat on his right, and Kit was at the other end of the table on Lady Theo’s right. Not exactly the correct protocol, but it left Caro and Huntley together.
Well, drat it all.
Unless Scottish manners allowed shouting down the table, Mary was not even going to be able to talk with him until the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner.
She made herself smile as Lord Titus recommended a dish. “This is baked salmon with tarragon, a particularly Scottish receipt.”
Kit’s deep, smooth voice carried lightly down the table. She would not look. She’d not make a spectacle of herself. “Thank you, my lord. It sounds delightful. I’m sure I shall love it.”
It was the longest meal of her life. A thrumming started behind her ears and spread through her head. By the time Lady Theo rose, indicating it was time to leave the gentlemen to their libations, Mary had a rare headache. Once in the corridor, she caught Caro’s arm. “I need to lie down.”
Caro searched Mary’s face. “You do look pale. Shall I come with you?”
