The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,28

too. Kirsty came to see me right after she’d met you and insisted we invite you.”

“Mr. Vermeal? Welcome to our home,” Alexander Pendergast said.

Lucinda watched her father shake hands with the host and kiss the hand of the hostess with his best superior attitude on display. It would be difficult for this young couple to not realize he was being so infuriatingly condescending and haughty. But they were both gracious and warm in their greetings. Elspeth Pendergast looked at her husband as if he set the stars in the sky, and he was no less conspicuous when he gazed at her and touched her arm.

She followed her father and aunt as they were directed down a long hallway to a set of open double doors. The room was crowded and filled with laughter and chatter.

“Dear Lord,” her father said. “Can’t these people speak to each other at a normal level? It’s like walking into a circus.”

“If you wish to go, Henri, we will make your excuses,” Aunt said as Kirsty Thompson hurried to them.

“I’ve been waiting right there,” she said with a broad smile and turned to point to a group of young people, “so that I wouldn’t miss your arrival.”

Aunt laughed and gestured to Kirsty’s gown. “I was right. You look beautiful in that color.”

“You were! I would have never guessed that it would suit, but it’s perfect!” she said, swinging her skirts and then glancing at Henri Vermeal. “Oh, oh. Where are my manners? I’m sorry. My name is Kirsty Thompson; my sister is the hostess, Elspeth Pendergast.”

He stared at her and her outstretched hand. “Miss Thompson,” he said finally, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it.

“Oh,” Kirsty said, now red-faced. “You’re so elegant!”

Lucinda held her breath. Her father was not skilled at being charming to outspoken young women. More than likely he would be dismissive, and then Aunt or she would have to cover his harsh words, whatever they may be. Her father shook his head and then smiled, actually smiled.

“Miss Thompson, I am charmed,” he said. “My sister is right. You look lovely in that dress, although I imagine you look lovely in whatever you choose to wear.”

Kirsty’s face reddened further. “I . . . I . . .”

“I assume you know your brother-in-law’s family to some degree?”

“Oh yes. The Pendergasts are very good to me and include me in their parties and outings.”

“How kind of them. I would like to meet young Mr. Pendergast’s aunt and uncle. We have a mutual interest, and I am anxious to make their acquaintance. Could I count on you to manage the introductions?”

“Do you mean Aunt Isadora and Uncle Nathan?”

“I believe I do,” he said with a smile.

“Oh yes. Come with me, sir.” She slipped her hand around Henri’s arm. They walked away as Kirsty chattered on.

“Dear me,” Aunt said. “I was worried he’d be short with her.”

“I am amazed that he was so pleasant, especially to someone as . . . enthusiastic as Kirsty. But then, he wants an introduction to Isadora Pendergast’s brother.”

“At least he is out of our hands.” Aunt grinned. “Let us find a servant and enjoy some champagne.”

Lucinda nodded at several acquaintances as she and her aunt wandered the edge of the room, sipping their drinks and looking at the artwork and sculptures. Apparently, the Pendergasts were collectors. She turned to the door as the chatter from the crowd increased.

And there he was. James Thompson looked devastatingly attractive in his dark suit and gold vest, already surrounded by some young men and women. Her heart skipped a beat as he found her in the crowd and held her eyes with his. She turned back to her aunt, who was discussing a bust on a tall pedestal.

“Lucinda, dear,” Aunt said. “Are you well? Your cheeks are bright red.”

“I’m fine,” she replied in a breathy voice, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd at the door. Her aunt looked that way and smiled at her.

“He is uncommonly attractive,” she said after a long sigh.

“He is rather handsome,” Lucinda said and stared up at a painting, her back to the door.

“Mr. Thompson, it is very good to see you again, isn’t it, Lucinda, dear?” Aunt said.

She turned, preparing herself for the magnetism that seemed to crackle between them. “Mr. Thompson.”

“Ma’am,” he said with a nod to Aunt. He turned to her, and his eyes traveled leisurely over her, a small grin on his face. “You manage to make every other woman here dim