“I am well,” he lied.
Elodie gave him a look that implied that she didn’t believe him. “Just say the word and I will put parsnip in Mr. Simpkin’s bed. He will develop a terrible rash and will be miserable for days.”
The worst part was that Bennett knew Elodie was in earnest. He could easily imagine Elodie grinding up parsnip leaves so she could sprinkle them on Mr. Simpkin’s bed.
“I appreciate what you are trying to do but this isn’t your fight,” Bennett said.
“I disagree,” Elodie responded. “We are family, and we stick together.”
As they entered the dining room, Bennett was surprised to see Mr. Campbell in the corner as he fiddled with the bagpipes.
Elodie leaned closer to him and explained, “Melody thought an encore was appropriate.”
Bennett wasn’t sure what his sisters were up to, but he found himself very curious.
Delphine was in a hell of her own making. She was sitting between the man that she loved and the man she was married to. And the worst part was that Mr. Simpkin was being overattentive, not giving her a chance to even speak up. He was taking away her voice, and she did not like that. But she didn’t wish to cause a scene. Not here.
Charlotte sat across from her and gave her an encouraging look. If anyone understood what she was going through, it was her friend.
Her eyes shifted towards Elodie and Melody. She could scarcely tell them apart since they were wearing matching gowns and had worn their hair in a similar fashion. She wondered what game they were playing.
Lady Dallington spoke up, drawing her attention. “I do hope everyone is excited for the soiree tomorrow evening.”
Delphine nodded. “I am,” she replied. “I feel as if I haven’t danced in ages.”
Mr. Simpkin cleared his throat. “Are you sure that is wise?” he asked. “You are still recovering from your injuries.”
“I am fine,” Delphine assured him.
“Well, I must insist that you refrain from dancing,” Mr.Simpkin said. “We wouldn’t want to jostle your brain any more than it has been.”
Delphine pursed her lips together as she tried to quash the growing irritation she felt for Mr. Simpkin. “You do not need to concern yourself with me.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible for me to do since we are married,” Mr. Simpkin said.
“You do not need to remind me- again,” Delphine responded. “I am fully aware of our situation.”
Mr. Simpkin smiled, and it grated on her nerves. “I am not without a heart, my dear. I would be happy to dance one set with you.”
Delphine no more wanted Mr. Simpkin’s hands on her than she wanted a thorn in her boot. His touch was not the least bit comforting and she found herself looking for reasons to avoid it.
The footmen stepped forward and placed soup in front of them.
Mr. Simpkin glanced down at his bowl, giving it a look of trepidation. “This looks interesting,” he muttered.
Elodie perked up in her seat. “We asked our cook to prepare some traditional Scottish dishes in honor of Delphine’s last dinner with us,” she said. “The soup is Cullen Skink and is primarily made from smoked haddock.”
“That is most kind of you,” Delphine acknowledged. “I greatly enjoy Cullen Skink. It brings back fond memories for me.”
Mr. Simpkin took a sip of his soup before saying, “It is not as awful as I expected, considering the Scottish are not known for their food. But I still do not care for it.”
Delphine resisted the urge to roll her eyes at such an idiotic remark. “You seem to forget that I was raised in Scotland and I have a fondness for their food.”
“Yes, but surely you must agree that their food is far too hearty for everyday eating,” Mr. Simpkin said.
She had been raised to be a lady, but her patience was being tried by Mr. Simpkin. She wanted to release her sharp tongue on him, but that would resolve nothing.
Mr. Simpkin must have taken her silence for acceptance because he continued. "I recently acquired a French cook that makes the most splendid meals. I have no doubt that you will greatly enjoy those.”
