A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,37

any family would be proud to claim.”

With her cheeks pinkened and her eyes blazing, her attention was devoted solely to Christian. But the rest of the table had turned to look at Lady Woodhaven, who was clearly distressed.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Furthermore, she deserves someone who will value her. Not some wandering, roving lout.”

“Darling?” Woodhaven’s brow creased into neat rows.

With a queenly grace, Helen leaned back in her chair, then smiled at her husband before turning her attention to their guests. “Don’t mind us. We were discussing how those wandering American barbarians prefer their tea without milk. Utterly undomesticated. It’s not worth a single thought in our opinion. Is it, Your Grace?”

“Indeed,” Christian agreed readily.

With a nod to the head footman, Lady Woodhaven signaled she was ready for the next course.

Christian couldn’t help but steal a peek every now and then at Katherine. She was remarkably adept at making those around her feel comfortable if the smiles and chuckles from her end of the table were any indication. Each time her gaze would meet his, she would smile as if she didn’t mind that he frequently glanced her way.

Over the rest of the dinner, the company continued to be in high spirits. A round of toasts were offered on his safe return. Right before the two ladies were set to depart for tea so the gentlemen could enjoy a glass of port, a man entered the dining room with his arms outstretched.

“Helen, I thought you were going to wait for me,” the gentleman crooned, then nodded at Benjamin.

“Miles, you were able to come.” Their hostess stood immediately and quickly closed the distance to the newcomer. “Allow me to make the introductions.” Helen looked around the room. “I believe you know everyone except my good friend, Lady Meriwether, and of course, the Duke of Randford.” Helen quickly brought the gentleman to Christian’s side. “Your Grace, may I introduce my brother, Lord Miles Abbott.”

Christian took a quick but thorough assessment. Well-built and fit, the viscount had height, but he stood several inches shorter than Christian. With blond hair and blue eyes, the man resembled Meri.

Undoubtedly, women would say Lord Abbott’s visage was handsome. Katherine would appreciate a man like that.

Christian automatically disliked him.

With unbelievable forbearance, Christian stood and extended his hand. Lord Miles Abbott took it in a hearty handshake.

“Your Grace, it’s an honor and a privilege to meet you.” Abbott smiled. “Your heroics on the battlefield are legendary.”

A rush of heat scalded Christian’s cheeks from Abbott’s praise. “Thank you, but it’s His Majesty’s army that deserves the accolades.”

“I see you’re modest too,” Abbott quipped, then looked to the other guests and laughed.

“No, I’m not.” He’d not let them forget who made the sacrifices. Christian’s voice sharpened. “The courageous men who worked under me are my betters. None of us should forget their bravery and willingness to serve.”

Abbot’s eyes widened in alarm.

The room immediately fell quiet.

“Some sacrificed everything, including their lives.” His gaze slowly swept the room as he memorized each shocked face. Some glanced away, embarrassed. Earlier, he’d wanted their help and approval, but in that instant, he didn’t give a whit if their delicate sensibilities were bruised by his words. “And the ones who came home to nothing or arrived on our shores with scars, missing limbs, and nightmares as a result of their unselfish service deserve your accolades. Instead, they have received nothing.”

“Are you suggesting we pay them, Randford?” the Earl of Shelton asked.

Murmurs rolled through the room at the earl’s question. Christian’s anger at the unfairness of it all rose with the vengeance of a roaring wildfire.

“Yes. That’s the least we could do for them. I think we should provide for their futures after all they’ve done for us. So we understand one another, it isn’t me or any other decorated officer, general, or Whitehall official who deserve your gratitude. It’s the bricklayers, the farmers, the cobblers, and the cabinet makers.” People like Phillip Reed, who society ignored or tried to sweep from their thoughts. “They served when they could ill afford to do so. But someone had to do it, and they readily stepped forward to protect everyone in this room. Their whole lives upended. They deserve so much more.”

By all that was holy, Christian would see they were given their just rewards. His fists ached from holding them so tightly. It was the only way he could keep his ire in check. He forced himself to breathe. He should have never attended the