at a milliner’s shop and he’s deciding to buy one.”
Lucy sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. “I like that analogy. It fits.” Angelica sighed. She supposed her friend was right. “Not to worry. I’m sure he’ll pick you in the end.”
Angelica’s head whipped round faster than a weathervane in a storm. “What?”
“He likes you.”
“That’s hardly enough,” Angelica grumbled.
“It is when considering his selection,” Lucy countered. “We’re not any man’s dream, Angelica. Hence the reason we’re all still unwed. Although I don’t understand why you would be, outgoing as you are.”
“Outgoingness comes with a downside.” She pursed her lips, took a quick sip of her tea, then set it aside. “I am forever blurting out things I ought to keep to myself. It’s not the sort of quality most men seek when looking for a wife.”
“In that case I have a feeling you may have found the first gentleman to be taken by such a trait.” Lucy smiled. “Lord Sterling clearly enjoyed your comments on riding and on Lady Seraphina.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean he’ll pick me.”
Lucy snorted. “Now you’re either fishing for compliments or lying to yourself”
“Well, what about you?” Angelica asked. “He could choose you if you give him a chance to get to know you better.”
“Perhaps,” Lucy conceded.
“After all, there’s little point in joining a competition unless you plan on doing your best to win it.”
“I suppose that… Oh, here he comes.”
Angelica forced herself to hide her excitement and not turn toward him too quickly. Her pulse had quickened, most likely due to the thrill of the game being played, for it couldn’t possibly be on account of the man himself. Could it?
Of course not, she told herself. They’d barely met.
“I hope you’ll pardon my intrusion,” Lord Sterling said once he’d come to a halt in front of the sofa where Angelica and Lucy sat. “But I was rather hoping you might take a turn of the room with me, Lady Angelica.”
“Oh…um…” And now she was stuttering like a fool. “I cannot possibly leave Miss Harlow alone.”
“Of course you can,” Lucy said. “I’ve no aversion to solitude. And if I should change my mind, I can always remove myself to another part of the room where conversation is more forthcoming.”
“How sporting of you,” Lord Sterling said with an obvious hint of admiration.
Angelica silently cheered on behalf of Lucy’s perfectly delivered comment. “If you’re sure…” She waited for Lucy to give a definitive nod before rising and placing her hand in the crook of Lord Sterling’s arm. As they started forward, she mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her friend, who merely grinned and waved her off.
“Did you enjoy the meal?”
“I did, although I’m not especially fond of leek soup, veal, or flummery.”
He frowned. “Was anything else served?”
“The vegetables were good, especially the potatoes.”
A grin caught the edge of his mouth, softening his features. “What would you have preferred?”
Angelica smiled. She appreciated his question and his lack of annoyance with her since most hosts would have been appalled by her criticism. “To start, a smoked filet of trout served with dill and lemon. Next, oven roasted duck stuffed with apples and prunes, accompanied by sugar glazed potatoes and sautéed red cabbage. And lastly…a lemon syllabub, I should think.”
“I would not have thought it possible, but I’m actually getting hungry again.” The warmth in Lord Sterling’s eyes as he said this was unmistakable. “It is certainly a menu worth trying one day.”
Good heavens. What was wrong with her stomach? It felt as though it was spinning around like an out of control top. Angelica sucked in a breath. Her cheeks felt warm and her legs seemed to struggle with keeping her upright.
“Tell me something,” Lord Sterling said once they’d passed the spot where the mothers and chaperones had chosen to gather. “How do you find Colchester Hall?”
“It’s impressive. But I’m not sure I’d want to live here.”
Lord Sterling jerked on her arm. Did he trip over something?
“I beg your pardon?” For the first time since she’d met him, he sounded affronted.
Ah well. Angelica supposed his tolerance of her until this point was bound to meet with an end sooner or later. “It’s not a home.”
“It’s my home,” he snapped, then catching himself, gently added, “it will also be the home of the future Lady Sterling.”
“You mistake my meaning,” Angelica told him because really, why stop now? “It’s too big and vast, too cold and drafty, completely devoid of cozy homeliness.”