“Keith.” Violante shot up as well among Lady Diana’s whispers and the count’s mutters of disapproval. “Leave it. Please. For me.”
That did it. Shaking, Keith stepped back from the table. His black eyes were two bottomless abysses that sucked in the light, fixed on Sir Nigel who seemed to wait for Keith to do or say something reckless.
“We’d better go to our room.” Violante gently tugged at Keith’s hand. “Apologies to everyone, and thank you for the tea.”
Sir Nigel smirked. “Well, you’ve just proved my point.”
“How dare you.” Keith seemed on the point to start arguing again, but Violante stopped him.
“Enough. We must leave.” This time, she gave a firm yank to his hand.
It would seem Keith needed more help than a fake wife could provide.
