Amelia clenched her fingers around her teaspoon, as if she was ready to stab someone with it. Flashes of anger lit her gaze. He’d seen that look in hardened soldiers facing a battle.
She was a feisty one. And he liked her fire.
“I’m perfectly happy to answer Amelia’s question,” he said, cursing inwardly for the inappropriate way he’d addressed Amelia. He should’ve added a ‘Miss.’
Judging by the way Mrs Armstrong flinched, she must’ve noticed it, but the quick grin Amelia gave him was worth the misstep.
He tried to not stare at her, but damn, it was hard. “I’ve found that after the war, I’ve become more concerned with other chores and less interested by mundane things, and I’m afraid that restoring the mansion is one of them. However—”
“Things are going to change,” Benedict said, striding into the room with his confident gait. “Welcome, ladies. I’m Benedict Vanbrugh.” He bowed, blond hair catching the light. “Forgive my delay, but I took a ride with Prince Cowasj this morning, and time has flown. He asked me to send you his best wishes for a nice stay, but unfortunately, he won’t join us now. A business required his attention.”
At the mention of the prince, Amelia tipped her head up.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Dorian—Christopher’s brother in arms—trudged into the room. His brow furrowed as he regarded the table. “I’m Captain Dorian Mortimer.” He bowed from the waist without lowering his gaze, though.
A chorus of ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you’ surged from the ladies.
As Dorian took a chair next to Benedict, Christopher put his cup of tea down. “Dorian has been with me in Afghanistan, and Benedict has been my friend since Eaton.”
Mrs Armstrong bowed her head in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Captain.”
Dorian replied with a curt nod, seemingly focused on his tea.
“Mr Vanbrugh,” Mrs Armstrong said, “I’ve heard about you.”
“Only nice things I hope, ma’am.” Benedict bowed again, but his gaze was on Julia.
Mrs Armstrong took a moment before saying, “Of course.”
“What were you saying about things that were changing?” Julia asked, the frown of before replaced with a beam.
“Oh, right.” Benedict dropped into a chair and helped himself to a scone. “We’re going to have a ball. Isn’t that wonderful?”
The tea Christopher was sipping went the wrong way in his throat, and he coughed. Astonished faces turned towards him. When the fit of cough subsided, he fired a glare at his friend.
“A ball? What are you talking about?”
Even Dorian’s mouth thinned. “No one told me anything about a ball.”
“That makes two of us,” Christopher gritted out.
As usual, the blond bastard didn’t flinch. “Why, the prince and I agree a ball is the perfect solution.”
“Solution to what?” Christopher’s voice thundered, but he didn’t care.
Having guests was already a challenge for his quiet habits, but a ball? With lots of people, music, and food? Never.
Mrs Armstrong raised a brow, her mouth twitching as if she were drinking vinegar.
“Chris, you can’t be so selfish.” Benedict leaned over the table to gaze at him. “The prince is a busy man. He can’t possibly pay a visit to all the dignitaries and lords he wants to meet. If these people come here for a ball, Prince Cowasj has the opportunity to see them all together and save time. Of course, the house will need to be redecorated.”
Christopher gnashed his teeth. A throb pulsated in his temple. “I don’t give a damn about saving Cowasj’s time.”
A collective gasp rose from the ladies. Only Dorian smirked. Apparently, his cursing united Amelia and Mrs Armstrong in a battle for good behaviour.
“Manners,” Mrs Armstrong muttered at the same time that Benedict said, “Christopher!”
“There will be no ball.” Christopher shot to his feet, ignoring the shocked stares.
