Kate didn’t glower at Miss Willory’s back as she left the room with Hunter, but only because there were others in the parlor who might see. Perhaps, that was why Miss Willory had come to Pallton House, she thought. Not for Mr. Potsbottom or Lord Comrie, or even Lord Martin, but for Hunter. Unable to hold back any longer, Kate looked down at her ink stain once more and glowered at it. She should have guessed earlier, she fumed. She should have realized it might be Hunter Miss Willory was after. True, he hadn’t a title—it was possible he hadn’t even a traceable lineage—but he did have the fortune to buy half of England. And wouldn’t Miss Mary Jane Willory just adore owning half of England?
Irritated, and unaccountably nervous, she stood to pull a small nearby table between their chairs, and fetch the chessboard.
Ten minutes later—which was five minutes longer than Kate felt was necessary—Hunter returned from his task and eyed the table dubiously. “Didn’t I mention I’d rather not play chess?”
“I can’t sit here talking to you while you read a book,” she informed him. And she had every intention of talking to him, just not on the topic she’d originally planned. “But if your vanity is so easily bruised that you tremble in fear at the mere thought of—”
“I’ll play.”
“Excellent.” She pushed a pawn forward and strove for a casual tone. “Did you retrieve Miss Willory’s book?”
“That is why I went,” he reminded her, taking his seat.
“You were gone an awfully long time for just one book,” she commented as he studied the board. “Did you run into difficulty?”
“Miss Willory had a spot of trouble remembering where the book was located.”
“It’s a library,” she drawled. “They’re arranged by author and subject according to—”
“She had a spot of trouble remembering who wrote it as well.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Of course she did.”
He looked up at her with brows raised. “Beg your pardon?”
“You are aware she’s attempting to flirt with you?” She flatly refused to give Miss Willory the accolade of having accomplished the deed.
“I’ve eyes in my head,” he replied by way of answer.
She waited for him to expand on that. He didn’t. “Do you like her attempting to flirt with you?”
He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, his expression one of smug amusement. “Are you jealous, Kate?”
Rather, was her initial and entirely unwelcome thought. “Curious,” is what she told him.
Hunter idly shrugged one shoulder. “I might like it, were she a different sort of woman. It’s no compliment to receive the attentions of someone like Miss Willory.”
“Oh.” She stifled a sigh of relief. “Good.”
He grinned at her. “You were jealous.”
“I certainly wasn’t,” she countered, smoothing one of the many wrinkles in her gown. “I was merely worried you couldn’t see past her charms.”
“And that you’d lose me to them?”
Do I have you to lose? That unbidden thought was even more unwelcome than the last. Uncomfortable with both, she strove to steer the conversation in another direction. “You’ll twist any comment to suit your purposes.”
“I’ll twist any comment?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Lady Kate, I have never met another human being so adept at modifying a comment for her own benefit than you.”
“I—”
“Yes,” he cut in with a patronizing smile and nod, “that was a compliment.”
“It wasn’t,” she countered. “And I was going to say that you obviously haven’t spent enough time in the company of those who are so clearly in the right.”
“I’ve spent considerable time in my own company.”
“I do so hate to repeat myself,” she said smartly, “but you obviously haven’t spent enough time in—”
“Oh, Mr. Hunter!” Miss Willory once more sailed into the room blushing and giggling. “I’m dreadfully sorry to trouble you again, but I’m afraid I must ask on behalf of Mrs. Ifill if you would be so kind as to assist in the library one more time.”
Having been an unwilling witness to Miss Willory’s brand of flirting on numerous occasions, Kate knew, without a doubt, that it would not be merely one more time.
“Perhaps it would be wise to fetch a footman instead,” she suggested, “and have him repair the ladder.”
“What a clever idea,” Miss Willory said sweetly. “And how generous of you to offer.”
“I’ll fetch the footman,” Hunter said quickly, rising from his chair. He headed for the door once more. Miss Willory followed, but not before throwing a disgustingly self-satisfied smile at Kate.
She’d stall him for the next twenty minutes at least,