A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,96

ushered us into the dining room where I was surprised to find Mr. Halliwell looking only a little uncomfortable. Helen sidled up to him, pressing her breasts against his arm.

“I’m so glad you came, Lawrence. I was afraid that after last time, you might be afraid to,” she said. She pulled a feather from her sleeve and tickled him with it. I glanced at Kit, but he merely shot me a mischievous look, and I realised he must have known what sort of mood Helen would be in before we arrived. And not telling me about it was payment in kind for teasing him with the bow tie.

We had just started on the soup when the door opened. “I do hope I’m not too late.”

I looked up and for a split second forgot how to breathe. I had never seen Ryder in anything other than his bush clothes. He cleaned up well. His hair was slicked back and much darker. The always-present five o’clock shadow had been neatly barbered off, and he was dressed impeccably in a black evening suit with starched shirt. Only the gold earrings in his ears gave him away for the pirate he was. He slid into the chair next to me and I saw the tiny thread of dried blood just beneath his ear where he had nicked himself shaving. I had a sudden urge to put out my tongue and taste it. He swivelled his head then, and I dropped my eyes. The servants jumped to bring him a plate of soup.

The others greeted him, but I applied myself to my soup. After a moment, the conversations broke off into smaller groups, and he leaned close, his lips near enough to my ear to raise gooseflesh. “I hear you’ve had some trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Did you get your bag?”

He flashed me a brilliant smile. “And a tip big enough to buy another duka.”

“Good for you.”

But in spite of his successful trip, I detected an edginess to him. He seemed watchful, and occasionally, I noticed his eyes flicker quickly to Helen and around the table again, as if waiting for something. The atmosphere was heightened somehow with Rex gone, and I did not put it down entirely to Helen’s odd mood. The men drank heavily, particularly Kit, who seemed determined to drink himself into a stupor before the cheese course. Gervase began to recite some of his gloomy poetry, this one about a man in love with the corpse of a girl he once knew, and Bunny kept kissing Helen’s arms as she tried to eat.

Across the table from me, Bianca’s pupils were huge in the candlelight, and I thought of the Renaissance beauties who dilated their eyes with belladonna to make themselves more alluring. It didn’t really do Bianca any favours. She was talking more than usual, her colour high and her voice sharp. She caught me looking at her and peered across the table.

“What’s that you’re wearing? Is that native jewellery?” She rose up out of her chair and leaned across the table, putting one knee into her plate as she tried for a closer look. I held up my wrist and she shrieked a little. “How primitive! Do you mean to start a new fashion?”

I shrugged as Gervase put an arm around her waist and coaxed her back into her seat. “Maybe. I liked the line of green beads in it with my dress, and I thought it made for an unusual touch.”

“Very becoming,” Helen said. I was about to explain that the beads were unique to the Masai in Gideon’s village, but before I could open my mouth, Bianca had started throwing bits of her bread roll at Lawrence Halliwell.

I rolled my eyes at Ryder. “Food fights?”

He continued to eat calmly as a chop bone whizzed past his ear. “I would have thought that was right up your alley.”

I gave him a cool glance. “Not really. I prefer more grown-up kicks.”

He didn’t reply, and the food fight fizzled to a stop just as soon as it started. Bianca’s shrieking laughter turned maudlin, and by the time dessert was served, she had reached for her needle again, this time injecting herself openly at the dinner table. Helen remonstrated with her.

“Bianca, really! Don’t indulge too much. The numbers are uneven as it is. We shall want every woman at her best.” Bianca was either not in the mood to play Helen’s games or she was too far gone to pay attention. She