“Shall we, Grandda?” Kade asked.
His grandfather’s gaze narrowed to fiery slits. “Offer me yer arm and I’ll knock yer block off.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“We should skip the whole bloody thing, if ye ask me,” Angus grumbled as they started toward the dining room. “Best we nip down to the pub after all.”
“No one is nipping down to the pub, and youwillbehave yourself at dinner,” Kade firmly said. “For God’s sake, we’ve socialized with Campbells any number of times over the years. This is no different.”
“And if ye’d been quicker off the mark, ye could have taken Miss Charlie into dinner, instead of that niffy-naffy jinglebrains.”
“I’m certain Charlotte would have preferred to go in with you, Kade,” Ainsley said.
“I think she would have preferred to go in with just about anybody else,” Kade replied.
“Och, ye dinna have the brains to see what’s afoot, do ye?” Angus said with a derisive snort. “She’s sweet on ye, lad, and that’s a fact.”
Fortunately, since they’d finally reached the dining room, Kade was able to ignore his grandfather’s embarrassing—if flattering—assessment.
The formal dining room was just as impressive as the drawing room, although not as cavernous. The highly polished rosewood table all but groaned under elaborate place settings of her ladyship’s best crystal and plate, obviously hauled out for the occasion. Silver trays contained carefully arranged displays of pineapples and oranges, and a large and quite ugly epergne held pride of place at the halfway point of the table.
It was quite the display for a small dinner party, all in the service of impressing the junior scion of a junior branch of the Campbell family. Kade could only assume that Lady Kinloch was trying to compensate for the fact that the intended object of the wooing was obviously less than enthusiastic about the wooer.
Kade took his seat directly across from Richard, who was on Charlie’s right. The lass didn’t seem best pleased by the arrangement; she glanced over and gave Kade a little grimace.
Angus, on Kade’s left, elbowed him.
“Told ye the lassie would rather be with ye than that chuckleheaded twit,” he said in a loud stage whisper.
Lady Kinloch hastily stepped into the breach.
“Mr. Kendrick,” she said to Kade, “you must excuse the numbers at table tonight. We find ourselves uneven, I’m afraid. I’m sure it’s nothing like what you’ve come to expect on your travels to the Continent.”
“Not at all, my lady,” he replied. “I have never seen a more beautiful table, even in Paris.”
Lady Kinloch rewarded him with a pleased smile. “Surely you exaggerate, but I’m happy you find everything to your satisfaction.”
“I do, and without a doubt, ma’am.”
“I doubt any French hostess could match Lady Kinloch in terms of style or elegance,” Richard said. “As for Parisians . . . well, Kade might find them to his taste, but I certainly do not.”
“You’ve been to Paris?” Kade asked in a bland tone.
“I have, and once was more than enough. Dirtiest place I’ve ever seen. As for the morals of the French, especially the women, we all know about that, eh, old fellow?”
The man was an even worse prat than he remembered.
“I cannot say that I’ve noticed any difference in the morals of the French as opposed to anyone else,” Kade politely replied.
“You seem to know quite a bit about the morals of French women,” Charlie said to Richard as two footmen served out the soup course. “Why is that?”
He shot her a startled glance. “Er, I’m not really sure what you’re asking, Miss Charlotte.”
Angus chuckled. “I think the lassie is askin’ if ye—”
“Cousin, please eat your soup before it gets cold,” Lady Kinloch firmly interrupted. “I had the seafood bisque made especially for you, since I know how much you like it.”
Angus frowned at her. “Elspeth, ye know I hate shellfish. There’s nothing worse than slurpin’ down a grisly old mussel or a manky oyster.”
