Page 65 of Barbarous

What could Daphne possibly say to that? She nodded and smiled. “Welcome back to England.”

A look of relief passed over the other woman’s face, as if she’d expected Daphne to demand explanations. But, as far as Daphne was concerned, it was Hugh’s job to explain, not this stranger’s.

She turned to her other dinner companion and found Lady Euphemia’s brother, the Marquess of Abermarle. Up close, Daphne could see he was perhaps a few years younger than she. The combination of alabaster skin, light green eyes, and aquiline nose made for a very handsome man. Like his sister, he had dark auburn hair which tumbled in loose, sensuous curls over his smooth, white brow. Here was a man every bit as beautiful as Hugh Redvers—although without the fascinating combination of menace and humor.

A vindictive smile curved her lips as she greeted her handsome companion; it was time the arrogant Lord Ramsay realized he was not the only attractive man in London.

Unfortunately, even the charms of a handsome marquess could not keep Daphne from trying to listen to what was being said on her other side.

Daphne did not hear much, but the few things she did hear were less than lover-like. In fact, it sounded as though Hugh and Lady Euphemia were quarreling—although she didn’t know what about since they were speaking Arabic.

When Abermarle’s other dinner partner asked him a question, Daphne turned to Hugh, who was waiting for her, a petulant expression marring his handsome features.

Euphemia Marlington was speaking to the elderly gentleman on her other side. Whatever she was saying to him had caused his eyebrows to meet his receding hairline and his face to turn an alarming shade of red.

“Making yet another conquest, my lady?” Hugh’s eyes met hers briefly before dropping to her lower than usual décolletage.

Daphne’s neck and chest warmed under his inspection. “I cannot say the same for you, my lord.” She cast a pointed glance at Euphemia Marlington. “She does not look nearly so besotted with you as she did the last time.”

Hugh grinned, as if he found her efforts to give him a set-down piquant or charming.

“Mia knows where my true interests lie.” A huge, hot hand landed on her knee and Daphne jumped.

Lord Abermarle turned, a frown marring his perfect forehead. “Is aught amiss, my lady?”

“Pepper,” she lied, taking a drink of water to illustrate she was fine before turning back to Hugh.

“Are you deranged?” she hissed between gritted teeth.

“No. Merely aroused.” His hand burned through the thin fabric of her dress like molten lava. “And very bored by this dinner.”

“If you don’t take your hand off my leg, I will stab it with my fork.”

He surveyed the array of silverware. “Tell me, my lady, which of these many forks is meant for such a purpose? I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten.” He removed his hand and Daphne immediately missed it. “At least you’ve not threatened to head-butt me. I’m rather fond of my nose.” He turned so she could view said feature in profile.

Daphne glanced around the table to see if Hugh’s shocking behavior had attracted any notice. But the only person who appeared to be looking at them was Lady Letitia, and without her spectacles, Daphne was unable to read the older woman’s expression.

“Will you please behave?” she whispered between her smiling lips.

“Behave? Behave like what? A man besotted?”

“Like a gentleman rather than an idiot.”

He chortled at that. “What will you give me if I behave?”

“Why should I give you anything?”

“I am accustomed to a barter economy.”

A soft hiss escaped her before she could stop it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Would you rather I did what I really want to be doing to you?” he asked in a voice like velvet.

When she didn’t answer, he leaned closer. “Would you like a hint?”

“No.”

“I’ll give you one, anyway. What I would rather be doing involves your body and mine and no clothing. Or forks.” He leaned forward in a way that must surely be attracting every eye at the table. “But I think you know very well what I would rather be doing.”