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As she entered the kitchen she paused in the doorway at the sight of Kaitlin Derwent, seated at the table.
Every bit as stunning in the flesh as her photographs indicated, Kaitlin was dressed in a gorgeous hand-embroidered dress that brought out the Titian shade of her hair and showed off a figure that combined svelteness with curves. But before Etta could even register envy Kaitlin rose and smiled a poster-girl smile that she couldn’t help but return.
‘You must be Etta. Gabe told me how much help you’ve been with the fair.’
Etta glanced across at Gabe, who was standing at the counter pouring cereal into a bowl, and her heart gave its familiar annoying hop, skip, and jump. This would be the last time she witnessed the Earl of Wycliffe at breakfast, and she allowed herself a sneaky glance at the breadth of his torso, the strength of his features, the spike of his blond hair. A glimmer of regret struck her—the first man in years her body was interested in and she’d passed up the opportunity to follow it up.
Ridiculous. No regret necessary. She’d made a mature decision not to succumb to an over-the-top attraction.
The Kiss flashed into her mind. See—an exact case in point. The Kiss had been a humdinger and very much over the top.
Turning resolutely back to Kaitlin, she smiled. ‘I’ve had a great time.’
‘I need to freshen up and then I’ll be ready for duty.’
‘We’ll catch up properly later,’ Gabe said with a small crease on his brow as he watched his sister leave the room. He turned to Etta. ‘I need you to stick with Kaitlin today.’
‘She may not want me to do that.’
‘Tough. I want to keep an eye on both of you, and that will be easier if you’re together.’
‘Fine.’
&n
bsp; She could only hope Kaitlin wouldn’t mind. After all, Lady Kaitlin Derwent was used to a social circle way more sophisticated than Etta’s.
As it turned out, Kaitlin seemed more than happy to hang out with her, and Etta could only stand back in admiration as the red-haired woman walked around the fair, exuding charm.
‘Come on,’ Kaitlin said eventually. ‘I’ll buy you a drink.’
Minutes later they were seated at the back of the marquee.
‘So, how have you got along with Gabe?’ Kaitlin asked.
‘Fine.’
The redhead hesitated. ‘Are the two of you an item?’
‘No. Absolutely not. No. Ick.’
Ick? Where had that come from? Etta took a gulp of punch, welcoming the hit of rum as Kaitlin’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose.
‘Hey, Gabe’s not that bad. Most women would bite your arm off for the opportunity to spend time with him.’
‘I’m not “most women”.’
‘Well, he’s not most men. I know Lady Isobel didn’t do him any favours, but Gabe is a good man. Bet he hasn’t told you about his charity work.’
‘What charity work?’
But before Kaitlin could answer she looked across the tent and muttered a most unladylike curse. ‘What’s wrong?’ Etta asked.
‘April Fotherington is headed this way.’ Kaitlin stood up. ‘I’d rather face her outside.’
Once they were on the lawn Etta saw the dark-haired reporter sashaying towards them with a predatory gleam in her eye.
If Kaitlin was nervous it was impossible to see; her lips were upturned in a smile of welcome with a hint of coolness. ‘April. Lovely to see you.’
