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She’d likewise captivated Seth with her competence, fluttering fingers and joyful vitality – all held within a golden dress, which scattered his wits and melted his control.
Casually, he leaned against the sofa back and earwigged in.
“So pray tell, then,” Miss Griffin enquired, “if a snorter to the snout is a blow to the nose, what is a rattler to the rails?”
“Jab to the teeth,” Rufus responded with a broad grin, proving he’d been able to dodge that particular blow during his career.
“And an ogler in the gaslights?”
“In the eye,” crowed Giles to her right with a salacious wink.
“A nutcracker? No, don’t tell me.” She shoved her spectacles up, ebony ringlets bouncing upon her silken nape. “That must be a severe blow to the head.”
“Near enough,” drawled Ribber Rufus, who then leaned so close she must have been able to feel his breath. “And how about a…famble in the dandle, Miss Griffin?”
Her hand lifted to her lips and she…giggled.
Scowling anew as Seth realised she had no need of his rescue, he continued to the decanters, where Kian also lurked.
“Well,” his old friend began, “yer governess is causing a sensation.”
“Hmm.”
“And Rufus has taken a shine to the bonnie lass.”
“Hmm.”
“A canny idea to have her as hostess.”
“Hmm.” Actually, no, it wasn’t. Rufus did indeed appear smitten and for some reason, Seth found that quite irritating.
“Ribber Rufus is particular when it comes to the ladies,” his friend wittered on, “and he looks enamoured…and she also.”
Seth swivelled. “It’s her job as hostess to be attentive.”
Kian held up a palm and grinned.
A trill of giggles, a rumble of fierce laughter and Seth gritted his teeth.
“Does yer lass Chloe like Miss Griffin?”
“Very much.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?” he groused.
“Och, Seth, yer a mite tetchy tonight. Have another wee brandy.”
He glared at the poured liquor and its shimmering burnt amber hue.
Indeed, he’d enjoyed this evening but vexation prickled his neck, and seeing all his friends had also brought old memories, both good and bad, to the fore.
“Seth?” a seductive female voice whispered at his side. “You promised to show me the ballroom?”
His gaze lifted from the brandy and stretched across the room to settle upon Miss Griffin.
That molten gown, which would blend perfectly with his own waistcoat, highlighted her flushed cheeks and creamy décolletage, tendrils of dark hair brushing her gilded bodice.
