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“If you intend to visit England in the near future, perhaps I can obtain an invitation for you.” Sebastian’s glance included Laura.
“As matter of fact, we have talked about flying to London,” Laura admitted and slid a glance at Boone, subtlety letting him know that she hadn’t forgotten his dinner invitation. His expression immediately warmed to her.
A liveried servant approached the group, bowed respectfully to Sebastian and addressed him in Italian. Sebastian responded in kind, then explained to the others, “We are to be escorted to the dining hall where the other guests are being seated.”
“Let’s quit dawdling and go.” With a flick of a switch, Max sent his wheelchair rolling forward.
When they arrived at the banquet hall, the Rutledges were directed to the upper end of the table. Boone had barely taken his seat wh
en Max demanded in a low, gravelly voice, “Where’s that gal sitting? Not next to that Englishman, I hope.”
“No. He’s seated to the left of the contessa. Laura and Tara are closer to the middle section.”
“Good,” Max muttered and nodded curtly to the gentleman seated opposite from him. Then he addressed his son. “Why’d you let that damned Englishman monopolize the conversation like that? You let him snatch her right from under your nose and never said a word.”
“Just what is it you think I should have done?” Boone countered in a voice of tightly controlled anger.
“Good God, do I have to tell you everything to do?” Max shot him a look of disgust. “All you had to do was speak up. Instead you stood there and pouted like some kid that had his new toy taken from him. I swear, sometimes I think the only thing you have for a spine is a wishbone.”
“For your information, Laura has agreed to meet me in London for dinner later this week,” Boone murmured tightly.
“She said that.” Max stared at him with a mixture of surprise and skepticism.
“Yes. I plan on talking to her after dinner to settle on an exact date and time.”
“See that you do.”
“You are actually serious about wanting me to marry her, aren’t you?” Boone realized.
“You’re damned right I am,” Max stated. “I hadn’t talked to her two minutes before I knew she had more sand in her little finger than you have in your whole body. It’s not likely that any of it will rub off on you, but there’s a damned good chance your kids will have it. And that’s just about all I’ve got to look forward to.”
Boone held his tongue with an effort and fought the urge to wad up his linen napkin and shove it down the old man’s throat.
The multiple-course meal was followed by a private recital performed by a well-known Belgian pianist. It was well after midnight when Laura and Tara emerged from the palazzo and climbed into their hired car.
“What a marvelous party,” Tara declared as she absently adjusted the folds of her satin evening wrap. “And so full of surprises, too. First running into the Rutledges—” She broke off the rest of that thought to glance curiously at Laura. “Which reminds me, I noticed that Boone cornered you after the piano recital. What did he want?”
“For me to fly to London and have dinner with him later this week.”
“How wonderful. It’s little more than a two-hour flight from here. We can arrive in the early afternoon, which will give you plenty of time to get ready,” she stated, as always taking charge. “First thing in the morning, I’ll notify our pilot of our plans and arrange for reservations at Claridges. Or would you rather stay at the Lanesborough?”
“You’re assuming that I accepted the invitation,” Laura replied lightly.
Tara gave her a startled look. “You did, didn’t you?”
“You sound so shocked.” Laura couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you suddenly decided to become a matchmaker?”
“Hardly,” Tara scoffed. “Actually, I was thinking that a quick trip to England would provide the perfect opportunity to see if Mr. Dunshill could arrange for us to view the portrait of Lady Crawford. Did you speak to him at all after dinner?”
“No.” Laura was a bit confused by the disappointment she felt over that. Several times she had caught Sebastian Dunshill looking her way, but he’d made no effort to seek her out. That failure prompted Laura to dig in her heels and refuse to make the next move. Laura knew her pride had been stung. Men had always pursued her.
“Neither did I,” Tara admitted. “I’ll call the contessa in the morning and find out where he’s staying. Or . . . do I need to bother?” She glanced expectantly at Laura. “Did you accept Boone’s dinner invitation or not?”
“Actually, I told him I would call him tomorrow after I talked to you. So my answer was a tentative ‘yes.’ ”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” Tara continued to study her. “I had the impression earlier that you found him attractive.”
“I do. In fact, I’m looking forward to having dinner with him.”
