AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The earl shrugged one shoulder and smirked at his sister. “I would have said the same of your baronet, yet he turned traitor to bachelorhood the moment you gave him leave to court you.”
The banter the three of them exchanged testified of a long friendship. Though Sir Andrew and his wife were newly wed, the baronet possessed an easiness with them that could only be born of a long acquaintance.
Sir Andrew’s grin turned crooked. “I cannot let you blame Josephine for my defection. Not entirely. Bachelorhood is quite dull, it turns out. I much prefer married life.”
“Do you hear that, Dunmore?” the duke’s heir asked, one eyebrow raised. “This traitor thinks our lives dull.”
Teague raised both hands in an attitude of defense. “I have no wish to argue against matrimony, Lord Farleigh. And I would never dare tell a lady she is wrong on such a subject.” He nodded deeply to Lady Josephine. “You have my support in your argument, my lady.”
“There you have it.” Lady Josephine grinned in triumph. “Bachelorhood is dull, matrimony is the highest order of life, and you, my dear brother, would do well to note such a thing as truth.”
Lord Farleigh groaned and rubbed at his forehead, as though vexed by his sister’s words. Strangely enough, it was to her he seemed to address his next question. “Why is it when people you know marry, they must go about insisting everyone else do the same?”
Isleen related well enough to that and spoke before she thought better of it. “My dearest friend in Ireland married at the beginning of summer. She has taken every opportunity to point me toward eligible bachelors ever since.” She shuddered theatrically. “And while she is a perfect companion in almost every respect, her attempts at matchmaking have horrified me.”
“There, you see.” Lord Farleigh crossed his arms as though Isleen’s words settled the matter. “Leave those of us still unfettered to find our own way, Josie.” He drew himself up. “And if I prefer Ivanhoe actually doing something about the troubles he faces, rather than Victor Frankenstein, who spends the whole of his novel moping about the problemhecreated, that is my right.”
Even Isleen could see the spark ignite in Lady Josephine’s eyes, and the lady drew in a breath before releasing a slew of words in support of theFrankensteinnovel. Teague’s jaw dropped open at one point during her literary lecture, her husband propped his chin in his hand and listened with a crooked smile as though he adored every word that came out of her mouth, and her brother bristled with impatience.
Or so it seemed. Until he made eye contact with Isleen when Lady Josephine spoke about the true moral of the tale, and Isleen caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
The man actually enjoyed his sister’s diatribe.
“Now, dear wife,” Sir Andrew said when she paused for breath, “you make excellent points on the fallen state of man. None of us can argue with you when it comes to literary matters. Not if we hope to win.”
“I am not arguing,” she countered. “I am stating my views.” Then her cheeks pinked, and she turned with wide eyes to Isleen. “I am terribly sorry. This all started with asking you foryouropinion. I have prattled on most self-indulgently.”
“I have not minded,” Isleen assured the younger woman. “I’m fascinated. I suppose I must admit that I didn’t enjoyFrankensteinduring my first reading. Now you have given me a reason to try the novel again.”
Lord Farleigh’s low chuckle preceded his dry statement. “I would not willingly torture myself that way a second time.”
What had happened to the man he’d been during their last interaction? He no longer acted coolly or with indifference. Around his friends, he appeared relaxed. Amused. Not the least bit prideful or even aloof.
“Pay him no attention,” Lady Josephine said, giving Isleen’s hand a pat even as she narrowed her eyes at her brother. “We two will have fascinating literary conversations while he is still trumpeting about Robin Hood and Friar Tuck.”
Before anyone could respond to Lady Josephine’s comment, the butler declared the table ready for them to dine. The shuffle began as the ladies each accepted escort through to the next room, except for Isleen.
The duchess had explained earlier in the day that they had invited the rector, to keep the numbers even, but he had sent his regrets rather than acceptance. An uneven table might have made other hostesses miserable, but the duchess had seemed troubled for Isleen’s sake alone.
But Isleen didn’t mind following at the tail of the procession, without escort. She’d never given much merit to the sillier parts of society’s traditions. What did it matter, who entered a room first or last? It simplified things when everyone was of nearly the same rank.
The duke escorted his mother, his son escorted the duchess, which meant Teague escorted Lady Josephine, and Sir Andrew gave his arm to Isleen’s mother.
When Isleen took her seat, she found herself next to Lord Farleigh, who sat at his mother’s right hand. She slipped her silken glove from one arm and then the other, laying them across her lap before taking up her spoon.
The feast laid out before them would be considered modest by the wealthiest members of Society, but Isleen couldn’t help feeling rather impressed. Chestnut-stuffed pheasant, glistening rolls, jellies, roasted vegetables in many hues, and more stretched from one side of the table to the other. Boats of gravy and plates of butter were within easy reach of everyone, and the food still steamed as though it had arrived from the kitchen at that exact moment.
She hoped the kitchen staff ate after the family. Otherwise, the food might well go to waste.
Lord Farleigh served Isleen from their nearest platters, then answered a question from his mother. He was quite attentive to both of them before serving himself. Once his own plate was full, he turned toward Isleen with a determined gleam in his blue eyes.
“I hope you didn’t mind our literary argument, Miss Frost. My sister and I have had a long history of reading the same books merely to debate them later. Her friend, the former Miss Arlen, and Sir Andrew also took part in those battles. We forget ourselves in company, from time to time.”
“I found the conversation stimulating,” she admitted with a tiny lift of one shoulder.
Holding Lord Farleigh to the first impression he made no longer seemed fair. Especially since she had made a poor presentation, too. First by gawking, and then by challenging his opinion of her quite rudely. Seeing him interact with his sister and friend had made him far more likable. And deserving of another chance.
“You never told us which of the two novels you favor. If I promise not to reveal the secret to anyone else, will you confide it to me?” The tilt of his head to one side betrayed his curiosity, and one corner of his mouth crept upward.
