Page 36 of An Engagement with the Enemy

After a long moment of silence, the only sounds coming from Ottis’s happy sniffling of the grass, James gave a firm nod.

“You should have a dog.” Before she could protest, he hurried on to the most important point of discussion. “We have a reprieve. The guests invited this week are no longer able to come. Their household has come down with influenza.”

“Mr. Arnold, second-cousin and heir-apparent to Lord Raleigh.” She relaxed and let her hands fall to her lap. “Will the invitation be reissued after their recovery?”

“Most likely. So we will still have their five children to contend with.”

“Three sons, two daughters.” She shook her head. “All unmarried. I hadn’t any notion there existed so many bachelors and unwed ladies in England.”

“Scotland, Wales, and Ireland haven’t even been tapped yet,” he added with a smirk.

“That isn’t an encouraging thought.”

He leaned back against the tree again, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Perhaps not. But imagine some Irish baron appears, falls madly in love with you, and takes you away to Ireland with him. Wouldn’t that be an adventure?”

The fire came back into her eyes, the familiar flicker of a challenge lighting the gray depths. “It would be more entertaining if you married a Scotswoman who spoke with a brogue so thick you couldn’t understand a word she said.”

He chuckled and turned his gaze upward. “My father is hosting the fair next week. I think that will provide all the entertainment I could want. Especially given the complexity of the event. And the guest list.”

“Ugh.” It was an unladylike sound, but Jessica rarely bothered to hide behind a polite facade with him. Especially of late. She spoke and expressed herself freely, a thing which gratified him more than she knew. “My cousins will come.”

He winced and sat forward, dropping his hands to the ground beside him. “The Earl of Wyndham and his five daughters. When did they visit last? Five years ago?”

“Four.” She shuddered. “Dare we hope they have improved in manners?”

James shook his head. “I saw them in London last Season and did all I could to avoid an actual conversation. I heard plenty about them, though.”

The Wyndham ladies boasted traditional English looks to go along with their traditional English names. Mary, Jane, Rose, Elizabeth, and Anne. They were beauties, but cold as frost in January.

“My only consolation is that Tom will be home tomorrow.” Jessica fiddled with the ribbons of her bonnet. “He is bringing a friend, too. One of the lawyers who works for the same employer.”

“Your house will be full, it seems.”

She grimaced. “To the very brim. I will not know a moment’s peace.”

“I would invite you to escape to the castle, but we are hosting cousins and another potential bride, along with her family of six.”

“Baron Arnette, your father’s friend.”

“You have a delightful memory.”

“Do I?” She blinked and placed a hand flat against her chest. “Why, James, I believe that is one of the nicest things you have ever said about me. I cannot think of one instance in which you found anything about my person delightful. I shall go home and mark the occasion in my diary.”

“That cannot be true,” he protested. “Are you certain? I think I must have paid you compliments in the past.” Had he, though? Of a sudden, he realized he had thought many complimentary things about his foe.

Had he never said any of them aloud?

“You once told me that my sharp tongue might have wounded more Englishmen than a French blade ever did,” she reminded him, batting her eyelashes innocently. “I took that as a compliment.”

James winced. “Is that the nicest thing I have ever said to you?”

Her posture relaxed, and her smile changed from its teasing tilt to something softer. “I haven’t exactly showered you with compliments, either. Or said much of anything nice about you. Not directly, anyway.”

“I suppose not.” But that bothered him less than his own behavior. “I feel like the opposite of a gentleman.”

“What would that be?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”