Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,8
and glittering blue eyes were evidence he made sport of her. Her jaw twitched, and she barely noticed the footman placing the bowl of soup in front of her through the red clouding her vision.
Entertaining kinswoman indeed. “I’m not mad,” she blurted.
“No?” He lobbed a crooked grin toward her end of the table. “How delightful to know, my lady.”
***
A servant hurried forward to refill Luke’s wine goblet, but he waved him away. His gaze remained on Lady Vivian. Her answers to his questions had grown cooler and more clipped during the first course. She refused to meet his gaze and often seemed to be attempting to shield her face with a delicate touch of her napkin to her lips or a well-placed hand to her brow.
Did she think him too dense to recognize her from their afternoon encounter?
He didn’t wish to shatter her fantasy, but Lady Vivian would be recognizable even in a beaver hat and mustachio. The relic she wore on her head couldn’t disguise her in the least, if that indeed was her aim.
She was an Incomparable.
And unforgettable.
Had he realized when he had come upon her swimming that she was a lady instead of a maid, he would have practiced more restraint and not peeked. But he had. Long enough to make his blood run hot again as he recalled the vision: The creamy swells of her breasts. The gentle curve of her shoulders. A honey-colored curl plastered to her round cheek.
His body hummed at the prospect of pursuing her. Not that he must pursue the lady, since her brother offered her like a gift to a sultan with no regard for what she might think. The daft man. Luke would never treat his sisters with such callousness.
He loosened his grip on the carved wooden armrests where his finger had molded to the deep grooves and cleared his throat. “Your cousin’s cook is to be praised for this exquisite fare. Is this duck or goose?”
Lady Vivian looked up with a wry smile twisting her full lips.
He glanced down at his plate, realizing too late that he hadn’t touched his braised beef.
“I will pass along your compliment, my lord.” She was kind enough not to call him a dimwit, at least to his face.
He speared a carrot and tried to sort out what was happening here at Brighthurst. Ashden’s sister—if she was indeed his sister and not a maid pretending to be Lady Vivian, which seemed unlikely given her poise and the other servants’ deference to her—did not meet any of his expectations.
She was nothing like the simpering daughters of the ton he had been sidestepping these last few years.
He had wanted to be done with the matter quickly when he had arrived, but damn if he could walk away from the riddle Lady Vivian Worth posed. Captain Pendry’s expedition couldn’t go forward until Luke saw to a few matters, but he couldn’t leave Brighthurst until he had some answers.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.
“Are you ill?”
Her slightly harassed tone reminded him of his manners. Smoothing his hands over the napkin on his lap, he regained his composure. “Lady Vivian, perhaps we might adjourn to the drawing room after dinner. I have a few inquiries I wish to make.”
“Inquiries?” Even from a distance, the lady’s cheeks looked flushed. She whipped out her ivory fan and waved it, sending tendrils of bronzed hair fluttering at her temples.
“Just a few questions, if you please.” He flashed a smile to show he meant no harm.
She grabbed her drink and slowly drained the contents. When she set the glass down again, she took a long time blotting the napkin to her reddened lips.
Tension coiled in his lower belly. She was either stalling or attempting to drive him to distraction.
“I am afraid I must beg off, sir. My cousin should take part in our interview, and she is abed with a chill. I hope you understand.”
She smiled, appearing too smug by half at deflecting him handily.
“I understand, Lady Vivian.” He would not allow her to dismiss him, however. “I will wait until Lady Brighthurst recovers before conducting my interview.”
The lady’s eyes flew open wide. “Wait? But it could be days. Perhaps a week.”
“Then I must find ways to occupy my time while Lady Brighthurst recovers.” He propped his elbow on the padded armrest. “I’m an early riser. Perhaps I will pay a visit to the dairy barn tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“There is a matter I would like to discuss with one of Lady