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She blushed, appalled at her own wanton thoughts.
“… so I assumed this morning you’d prefer the lemon.” Theresa paused, hands on hips. “My lady?”
“Pardon me?” Ariana started.
With an impatient lift of her brows, Theresa repeated, “I said, I assumed this morning you’d prefer the lemon.”
“The lemon?”
“Yes … rather than the cream. The cream is too heavy for such a hot summer day. I thought the lemon would be more to your liking.”
“Oh … of course.” Ariana wrapped the towel around her and smiled brightly. “I’ll have the lemon, of course, but not here. In the dining room.”
“You plan to dress in the dining room?” Theresa inquired.
Ariana stopped in her tracks. “Dress? I thought we were discussing my tea!”
“No, pet. I was speaking of your gown.” Theresa swept past Ariana, clucking under her breath. “And they call me daft!”
Laughing, Ariana followed Theresa into the bedroom and gave her a warm hug. “I’ve never called you daft, my dear friend. To the contrary, I find your wisdom staggering. As for the rest of the world …” She shrugged, slipping into her underclothes and lemon-colored morning dress. “Let them think what they will.”
Theresa gave a disdainful sniff and patted the volume of Bacon’s essays that lay snug in her apron pocket. “They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.”
“I concur wholeheartedly … with you and Sir Francis,” Ariana replied. Impatiently, she assisted Theresa in fastening the long row of buttons that spanned the front of her dress. “Do you think Trenton is still in the dining room?”
“I think you should let me arrange your hair so you can find out,” Theresa returned briskly.
Ariana was eager to do just that.
But when, a scant twenty minutes later, she hastened down the stairs, she found only Dustin at the table, finishing his coffee.
“Well”—he came to his feet at once—“good morning! I was wondering if you ever planned to rise!”
“Good morning, Dustin.” Ariana’s gaze quickly swept the room, simultaneously noting that the grandfather clock registered three quarters after ten and that she and Dustin
were indeed the sole occupants of the vast mahogany dining room. Disappointment clouding her lovely face, she turned to Trenton’s handsome, smiling brother. “It’s good to see you.”
Dustin’s grin widened. “You don’t do much for a gentleman’s ego, sweetheart,” he teased, raising her hand to his lips. “You look positively crestfallen.”
“I apologize,” she said at once, blushing. She gazed appealingly up at him, mortified that she had offended such an important person in Trenton’s life, a man she had hoped to call a friend. “I didn’t mean …”
He waved away her objection. “I understood what you meant.” He raised her chin with a gentle forefinger. “Are you all right?”
Her blush deepened, but Ariana didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”
His astute midnight gaze studied her intently. Then he nodded. “My brother is a very lucky man.”
“Is he at home?” Ariana burst out eagerly.
“No, Ariana, he’s not.” Dustin glanced tactfully away from her disappointed expression. Adjusting the collar of his morning shirt with exaggerated dignity, he pulled back a chair and, in a grand, teasing gesture, motioned for Ariana to sit. As she complied, he admonished gently, “The day is half over, sweet. You must be ravenous.” With authoritative ease, Dustin signaled to a waiting footman. “Breakfast for Her Grace,” he ordered.
“Thank you, Dustin.” Ariana smiled, determined not to show how disappointed she was to learn that Trenton was away. She composed herself, counting to ten as she traced the lace pattern of the tablecloth. Then, unable to resist, she casually inquired, “Will Trenton be gone long?”
“He left for Spraystone just after dawn.” Dustin eased himself into his chair, folding his arms across his chest and studying Ariana with perceptive compassion. “He didn’t mention when he planned to return.”
“Spraystone?”
“Trent’s estate on the Isle of Wight,” Dustin supplied, reminded, yet again, how very little his brother and Ariana actually knew of each other.
