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Twice—two breathless, heart-stopping times—she turned her head only to find him staring at her, his gaze heated, probing, and the effect nearly brought her to her knees. To preserve appearances, not to mention sanity, Noelle looked away quickly, reimmersing herself in the conversation around her. Still, she couldn't help but sneak an occasional peek in Ashford's direction, noting with more than a twinge of curiosity that he was deeply engrossed in conversation with her father, while her mother, seated across the table, chatted amiably with the duke.
"Forgive us, Lady Noelle," Sheridan apologized gallantly over their last mouthfuls of dessert. "After our raucous display tonight, you must think all the Thorntons are heathens."
"On the contrary," Noelle assured him, "I think you're all wonderful. As for the display you're referring to, I view it as a heartwarming expression of your love for each other. Actually, you remind me a lot of my own family. We're smaller in number but equally as vocal in our affection. Just ask my father," she added with a grin. "He'll tell you how noisy mealtime at Farrington can get. Trust me, you're no more boisterous than we."
"Don't make that claim until you've met Cam," Blair suggested dryly. "She's a whirlwind disguised as a child."
"How true," Juliet concurred with a sigh.
"But I have met her," Noelle declared, turning to Juliet. "Your daughter is a delight. We met this afternoon during her romp with Lord Tremlett. She reminds me of myself at her age—bursting with energy and resourcefulness. And her laughter is positively contagious."
. Juliet rolled her eyes. "Especially when she's playing with Ashford. Cara loves us all, but I firmly believe she thinks Ashe walks on water. My son Lucas is not much better. He's determined to be just like Ashford when he grows up—Lord help us all." A flicker of curiosity. "Did I hear Ashe say you two had met before tonight?"
"Yes." Noelle lay down her fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. "Lord Tremlett and I met on the railroad going to London. We played piquet. The earl lost. As payment for his defeat, he gave my lady's maid and me a ride into To
wn."
"You beat Ashe at cards?" Juliet sounded surprised, impressed, and terribly smug. "I wish I'd been there to see that." She finished her pie with a flourish. "Well, good for you. Ashe could use a few lessons in humility. In fact, all my brothers could."
"Could we?" Blair's brows lifted good-naturedly. "If that's the case, you're hardly the one to provide them. You're cockier than Ashe."
"True," Sheridan put in blandly. "Just ask your husband. Right, Carston?"
"Oh, no," Carston refuted, holding up his palms and laughing. "I'm not being drawn into this debate. Besides, assessing which Thornton is the most self-assured is like deciding which of the desserts on this table is the sweetest. They're all sweet; that's a statement of fact. As to which surpasses the others, now that's simply a matter of opinion."
"Spoken like a loyal husband," Sheridan commended, returning to his dessert. "And a smart one," he added, shooting Carston a sympathetic look, "since we all know that Juliet would win the arrogance contest. Compared to her, we Thornton men are as meek as lambs."
A chorus of good-natured laughter—and a denial from Juliet—erupted. Then Daphne Thornton rose to her feet, stifling her own laughter as she requested that everyone take their coffee into the blue salon, where card tables had been set up for whatever family and guests were already present.
Everyone complied, filing slowly out of the dining room.
Noelle followed suit, making her way into the hall and looking about for her parents—or so she told herself.
"The games begin," a deep baritone commented from behind her.
She started at the sound of Ashford's voice, which was so close it shimmered through her hair.
Pivoting about, she gazed up at him. "I thought you were already in the blue salon."
"But you were hoping I wasn't?"
"Yes. I was hoping you weren't."
Undisguised pleasure flashed in his eyes. "Walk outside with me for a while. It will take almost an hour for the chattering to stop and the games to get under way."
Noelle glanced from him to her father, who was standing about fifteen feet away, glaring at her. "Let me talk to Papa," she replied.
"No. Let me. After our conversation tonight, I'm hoping your father feels a little less defensive about my motives." Ignoring Noelle's quizzical look, Ashford offered her his arm, led her to her father. "Lord Farrington," he said respectfully. "I'd like to take Noelle for a stroll—with your permission. We won't be gone more than a few minutes, and we won't venture far."
Eric frowned, clearly torn between the automatic refusal hovering on his lips and the grudging realization that Ashford was their host's son and—based upon whatever it was they'd discussed—a decent-enough fellow who was now proving that fact by asking permission rather than just whisking Noelle off. "I appreciate your sense of propriety, Tremlett," he began. "However—"
"I don't think a short walk would hurt, Eric," Brigitte interrupted, appearing at her husband's side. "After all, the card-playing has yet to begin. Besides, that meal, however delicious, was enormous. A stroll would certainly make it easier to breathe while sitting at the gaming table. Don't you agree, darling?"
Eric scowled.
"Eric?" Brigitte touched his arm gently.
He turned, met her reassuring gaze. "Very well," he relented. "At least it will take Noelle away from the rest of her captive audience. But make it a brief stroll."
