“Then serve the guests soup instead!” Longbottom was snarling now. “Soup is what every other cook makes as a first course!”
A comment that made the chef twitch uncontrollably. “François Cadieux would never serve something so predictable andinsipideas soup at a banquet!” He shook his semi-clenched hand in the butler’s face. “Besides, I ’ave not prepared any!”
“I have.” That came from Lady Wennington’s poor cook who was clearly at the end of her tether too. “Not enough but if I stretch it with some stock and cream, it will taste good enough. I’ll put it on to heat.”
“Non!Good enough isnevergood enough!”
“Sorry to interrupt—” Before François’s head exploded, Lottie grabbed Longbottom. “But we now have another job.”
“Please say that it’s running screaming for the hills, Lottie, because if it isn’t, I might just run screaming for them anyway.”
“I wish it was, but sadly we need to go urgently herd some cats.”
She explained her plan en route. They both agreed that retrieving the guests room by room would be too slow but trying to maneuver them all at once was madness. Especially as there seemed to be some competition between the fifteen unmarried young ladies who had been invited to tempt the birthday boy down the aisle and she did not trust them not to try and sabotage one another in some way. There could be no accidentally-on-purpose torn frocks or dawdling with him due home at any moment. Therefore, they had decided on three families at a time, which meant that they had to successfully orchestrate five clandestine trips through the bowels of the house to get everyone unseen to the dining room. “If I keep a lookout downstairs in the hallway for his lordship, I can distract him while you get everyone off the landing. Do not move anyone until I give you the signal.” For ease, they had kept the signals simple. Lottie’s hands would be clasped behind her back if the master of the house was in sight, and in front of her if the coast was clear.
For the next fifteen minutes, as she ignored the crushing guilt that came from her clandestine part of this and her increasing dread at his reaction, Lottie alternated between loitering at the bottom of the stairs for Longbottom and pacing before the front door, waiting for Lord Wennington’s return. All the while praying that he wouldn’t return on her watch because she still had no earthly idea how to react around him after she had done everything in her power to convince him to kiss her last night and he hadn’t.
With hindsight, she was also mortified at her outrageous come-hither behavior to convince him to. He’d looked thoroughly horrified by it all as he’d extricated himself and couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze after. She had never seen a man spear his carrots with such determined focus as Lord Wennington had during dinner. But his brows had been exceedingly furrowed and his jaw exceptionally tight. She could only imagine what he had been thinking, and it obviously wasn’t good. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that an eligible viscount hadn’t been inclined to kiss a companion of any caliber, let alone one with bee stings for breasts whodid not possess a single modicum of decorum at all. Especially one as noble as Lord Wennington. That humiliation made her toes curl inside her evening slippers.
“Pssst…”Longbottom’s hushed call from above startled her. “I’m about to take the last lot, Lottie.”
“Excellent. Fetch me when it’s done.” She kept one eye on the front door as the last gaggle of overexcited young ladies and their parents scurried across the landing, wondering, not for the first time today, what Lady Frinton and his mother had been thinking when they had chosen these particular young ladies for him in the first place.
Lottie might not be Lord Wennington’s cup of tea or in his league, but she knew him well enough to know that none of those giggling, fawning ninnies were either. They were all very pretty, one or two were stunning, but they didn’t seem to have much else going for them. Most were asinsipideas the soup François refused to serve and seemed to only care about pointless nonsense like gowns or dancing slippers or the perfect state of theircoiffures. Whereas he was a man of complex layers. One who loved the great outdoors and horses and agriculture. He was all about the country and those silly girls only seemed to care about London and the countless balls they apparently spent their entire existence attending there. In short, not right for him at all, in her humble opinion.
But what did she know? Maybe eligible viscounts were predisposed to prefer aristocratic nincompoops over farmers’ daughters. Maybe, amongst all his complex layers, Lord Wennington had the overwhelming urge to maintain the blue in his bloodline?
She jumped out of her skin for a second time as the front door opened and there he was. He strode in, distracted, then stopped dead when he saw her. By the way his face instantly blanched of all color, he was clearly still appalled by last night. “Miss Travers… I… um… I…”
Her toes curled some more at that horrified greeting. “Good evening, my lord.” She bobbed one of her usual lackluster curtsies. There was nothing for it but to brazen it out, be her usual self, and pretend nothing had happened. “You have arrived just in the nick of time to changequickly before dinner.” She pointed at the clock, which now read just two minutes to eight. “Very quickly unless you want to suffer the wrath of both your mother and Lady Frinton.” She had to keep him away from the dining room at all costs, so used a sweep of her arms to shepherd him toward the stairs.
He edged toward her like a man who did not want to be within ten miles of her. “Um… before I change, can we… er… talk about what happened last night?”
“Last night?” A hot blush crept up her neck as she willed the ground to open and swallow her whole. “I cannot think of anything that happened last night that would require a conversation, my lord. Has something happened?” She was clutching at straws now, even though her face was already burning crimson.
His dark brows furrowed, doubtless until he realized what a gift she was trying to hand him on a plate. “Miss Travers, I…” Now he looked to be in actual pain, which was exactly how she was feeling as she contemplated throwing herself out of a window and running, screaming in mortification, toward those hills. And would have, too, if there had been a window handy. “I… um…”
“Please, my lord!” She was mortified enough that she might even run out the front door and not stop until she hit the White Cliffs of Dover. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” He grabbed her elbow and spirited her away from the staircase to the secluded alcove beneath it.
He sucked in an audible breath and stared at her. “The thing is, Miss Travers…Lottie…”He raked a hand through his hair. “The thing is…” He scrunched his eyes closed and she seriously thought about bolting. As if he sensed that, his hand slipped down to her hand and gripped it tight as he stared deep into her eyes with the maniacal look of a man who was dreading saying what he wanted to say almost as much as she dreaded hearing it.
“I must go… Lady Frinton needs me.” She tried to tug her hand away and he held on tight. “My lord, I…”
“Guy… it’s Guy, and I…” His eyes locked with hers and she wasn’t sure which of them looked more uncomfortable. “I… um… er… oh, to hell with it!” Before she knew what was happening, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
His lips were gentle at first, but as she sighed against them, he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her closer, and she clean forgot all else.
Lottie had been kissed many times before, but never like this. This kiss was something special. Intense and complex like the man bestowing it and almost impossible to decipher all in one go. Desire meshed with tenderness. Haste mixed with restraint. Longing laced with wonder. Reverence. Impatience. Triumph and surrender. Almost as if he had been holding everything back for as long as he could but the dam had broken.
Her own flimsy dam had disintegrated the second their mouths met, so she welcomed everything, looping one arm around his neck while her other hand gripped his lapel. In case he did not get the message from that, she kissed him back with equal fervor until she was drunk on him.
She even moaned her appreciation when his hands went on a mission to explore her body. Parting her lips so that they could deepen the kiss as his palms wandered possessively up her back and then all the way down again. He tugged her hips flush to his as his tongue tasted hers. Letting her feel his desire hard against her pelvis before he filled his palms with her bottom and groaned his approval. “All I’ve done is think of doing this to you since yesterday.” Heady words that were music to her ears and sheer torture for her body. “I should have done this then, Lottie. I wanted to.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to return the sentiment, but his mouth was on hers again and she didn’t want that to stop. So instead, she arched against him and buried her fingers in his hair, anchoring his lips in place as she thoroughly kissed him back.
“Lottie, we’re—” They jumped apart at Longbottom’s voice and he blinked at them in shock. It was obvious he had seen everything. “My apologies, my lord.”
