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“It shouldn’t?”
“Not at all,” she assured, much to Nathan’s relief who dropped to sit on the floor beside them and continued to play with what horses remained. Chloe leaned toward Lord Felton and whispered conspiratorially, so only he could hear her. “And at least it wasn’t one of Maeve’s teacups.”
“At least?” he repeated. “I think you mean thank God it wasn’t!” He laughed now. “If looks could shoot a man, I would have many bullets in me by now courtesy of my sister.” His sudden smile brought such relief to Chloe that she smiled back.
Warmth spread through her, until she realized how close she was sat to Lord Felton. She leaned back again but bumped the arm of the settee.
I should not be so close to him! What must he think of me? That his sister’s friend is rather eager to see him again?
The mere thought embarrassed her so much, she was certain her face was turning red. It seemed that despite the months away, the care she felt for Lord Felton was still there. Yet somehow, it was stronger too. As if her body was nearly out of control in its want to be beside Lord Felton. Looking back to Maeve, she prayed that her blush was hidden from Lord Felton’s view.
“Maeve, what do you think of the gown?” Chloe asked excitedly.
“I love it. Oh, Chloe, it is truly beautiful.” Maeve stood to her feet and held the gown against her body, before turning so that the Duke could admire it.
“Very beautiful.” Though the Duke’s eyes seemed to be more on Maeve’s face than on the gown.
“Subtle, are they not?” Chloe asked, looking straight at Lord Felton who sniggered as he picked up his teacup.
“What was that?” the Duke asked, looking their way.
“Nothing,” Chloe and Lord Felton answered together.
“Like conspiring children.” The Duke shook his head at them while Maeve hurried off to the nearest mirror that sat above the fireplace, lined in gilt edging and beveled around the edge. She smiled the more she looked at the gown.
“Chloe, I do not know how to thank you,” Maeve gushed as she returned to their sides. “It is simply stunning. Look at this embroidery, how delicate it is!”
“It took hours, but the effect is worth it, I think.”
“Without a doubt.” Maeve was still turning in circles with the gown, adoring it in such a way that Chloe couldn’t take the smile off her face.
This is what I want from life. To make people smile with such simple things.
“You have outdone yourself, Miss Green.” Lord Felton’s voice beside her prompted Chloe to look in his direction again.
“Was that a compliment?” She couldn’t help teasing him.
“I’m capable of giving them,” he said with something of a mischievous smile on his lips.
“I seem to remember a time you were not so impressed with my designs.”
“That had more to do with the fact you were designing a man’s suit for my sister to wear, not a gown.” He held her gaze as he said it.
“Oh, and you were not impressed at the skill involved in making such a suit?” Chloe asked, turning to face Lord Felton on the settee and sitting taller.
“That was beside the point, and you know it.” He smiled at her, their bickering words falling freely between them.
“Miss Green, have some tea, I beg you,” the Duke said from the other side of the table. “If you two are to sit here arguing about this again, then you must have some refreshment to continue the argument.”
“Oh, I . . .” Chloe paused and looked around the room. She rather liked the idea of staying longer and talking with Lord Felton, laughing with him as they reminisced, but was it wise?
She could feel how near to him she sat and feared that the others had noticed it as well. There was something about being close to Lord Felton that made her admire him more. She kept stealing glances his way, looking at the slant of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones beneath his dark eyes. That charming smile was back in place too, with its usual ability to make her stomach do somersaults.
“I should probably return to the other seamstresses soon,” Chloe murmured, tearing her gaze away from Lord Felton.
What is wrong with me? Am I incapable of looking at anyone else in this room?
“Stay a little longer.” The Duke insisted and leaned forward to pour her a cup of tea. “Besides, Maeve is not done praising your gown.”
