“We may be fortunate,” he said softly, “and no one will recognize either of us, yet there is the possibility of…”
“One or both of us being known to those within,” she finished his thought. “If we dine alone, any who view us entering the private dining room will think we planned an assignation. Even if we dine in public, some will talk. Do we have a choice?”
“We could go without a meal,” Aaran said simply. He wanted her fully aware of her choices. If he was to pursue this particular woman, it was essential that she be cognizant of the fact all of her family would likely eschew her if she chose him.
“I do not like the idea of hiding,” she replied after a long pause.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “We have nothing of which to be ashamed. We are friends traveling to the same event.”
She nodded her agreement and again placed her hand on his arm. Though Aaran knew it would be foolish to think so, he liked both the weight and the heat of her gloved hand wrapped about his elbow, as well as the scent of her perfume filling the air around them.
Freya attempted tokeep her breathing even, but being so close to Lord Graham was affecting her more than she thought possible. He was extremely handsome. Even the scar upon his cheekbone and the other that nicked his lip could not hide his fine countenance. She liked the fact that he did not possess a sour nature, for, assuredly, he had heard the criticisms of her father and others being slung at him.
“My lord,” the innkeeper greeted him. “Would you prefer a private room?”
Lord Graham looked about the room before responding. “Her Ladyship and I still have quite a journey so we will not be tarrying long. We will be satisfied with a bit of privacy the table in the corner provides.” He looked to Freya. “Is such acceptable, my dear?”
They had already made the decision together before entering the inn, but Freya was happy that he had asked her opinion rather than announcing what he preferred, as would have her father. “Excellent choice, my lord. Might I have tea, sir, and whatever His Lordship thinks best for our meal.”
“The meat pie, I believe,” Lord Graham declared with a nod of approval. “A brandy, if you would for me, my good man. And please send out a meal for my coachman.”
With a nod of his head to the innkeeper, His Lordship directed her towards the chosen table. “Do you recognize anyone?” he asked softly.
Once she was settled, Freya glanced about the room without making it too obvious that she was looking closely at those within. “Not that I can say with authority. Fortunately, my father does not often introduce me to many Englishmen.”
“Nor to Scots,” Lord Graham said with a smile. He asked, “Will you be staying at Thom Manor?”
Freya wished she was. It would be easier to spend time with this particular gentleman if such were so. “As my mother’ssister lives on the other side of the village that borders Lord Thompson’s estate, I shall be residing with my Aunt Felicity and her husband Mr. Philip Turner. He holds the living from Lord Rayland.”
“Rayland?” His Lordship asked with interest.
“Yes, do you know His Lordship? Of course, you must know him from the House of Lords. I meant personally,” Freya explained.
“Not as well as I expect to know him. It seems my stepmother, the former Lady Eímear Graham and later Lady Roland, is Lord Rayland’s new baroness. I have had a recent visit from my half brother, Lord Boyde Graham to announce the change in his mother’s situation. Do you know my brother?”
“Not personally,” Freya admitted. “Though we met once at a house party when we were perhaps ten years of age. I have heard my father speak of the younger Lord Graham.”
Their food arrived, and Freya sat back to permit the service. She had not realized until that very moment that she and His Lordship had been leaning towards each other. For the next few minutes, they were quiet, both taking multiple bites of the meat pie, which was tastier than she had expected. “You were nearly as hungry as I,” His Lordship said softly.
Freya knew she frowned, for it was well known that women were supposed to eat less than did a gentleman, but before she could comment, a shout from the corner of the room drew both her attention and another smile from Lord Graham.
Chapter Eight
“What in theworld?” Freya asked.
“The men are playing Hazard,” His Lordship confided. “Have you ever played, my lady?”
“Assuredly not,” she said with an aristocratic lift of her chin. “Such would never be considered in civilized society.”
He chuckled, and Freya wondered how he could remain so good-natured with all the sadness that he had known in life. She wished her children to know such a man, not someone of her father’s nature, a man whose children feared him. “I assure you, Lady Freya, the game is often played by gentlemen at gaming hells, and many people of society think the activity is acivilizedway of passing time.”
“Are you claiming that game is acceptable in advanced culture?” she demanded.
“Are you always so argumentative, my lady?” he asked with a tilt of his head, as if he were studying her closely.
Freya’s chin notched higher. “Do you object to a woman’s opinions, my lord?”
“I do not,” he responded quickly, which indicated he had heard her question rather than simply her tone. He changed the subject somewhat. “We do not have the luxury of time for meto teach you the game now, but I promise to do so while we are in Kent, though perhaps your uncle would object. He is a vicar. That is what you said. Correct me if I misunderstood.”
