watched it myself this morning.”
“Pish, Ed,”
Robert said, holding out his goblet for a servant to refill. “You spend too
much time on your poems and herb potions to discipline the workers. They should
be putting the shit in bags instead of throwing it around. Those brats need a
stick to their backs.”
“Well,” Edward
finished, his smile fading, “I thought it rather funny.”
Curious, Alex
watched Katherine stiffen over Robert’s comment. Betrothed to a man like the
earl, and doubtless a regular at Court, she should be used to such vulgar talk.
A servant
announced the meal. Alex rose without further thought and performed his customary
duties whenever the Cookes came to dinner. He approached Agnes, who rose
regally and placed her hand on his offered forearm.
Robert and Sarah
would take their places behind himself and Agnes, followed by Edward and
Elizabeth.
But now there
was Katherine to consider. She rose and stood with clasped hands. Although she
held her head high, from the look on her face, Alex knew she fought humiliation
over having no escort.
Blast it all. He
couldn’t make her walk alone to the dining room. And she would be a quiet
diversion from Agnes’ aimless chatter. “Excuse me, Agnes,” he said pleasantly,
and extracted her hand from his arm while noting the slight narrowing of her
eyes. Approaching Katherine, he asked, “May I also escort you to dinner, my
lady?”
She regarded him
doubtfully and must have considered his act one of forced politeness, but
walked with him toward the parlor door.
A delicate
lavender scent wafted from her smooth, soft looking skin. Deep warmth from her
hand on his arm caused a wild thump of his heart. What was she doing to him?
With effort, he
raised his other arm so that Agnes could lay her hand on it. That arm remained
cool. How strange.
As they left the
parlor, Alex had an overwhelming urge to stop and grasp Katherine’s entire body
against his to see just how warm the rest of her felt. As quickly as he
repressed the thought, perspiration beaded his forehead. He would draw
attention to his reaction if he released either woman’s arm to wipe it off.
What the devil
was wrong with him?
Chapter Four
Katherine
carried her slate curled in her left arm, determined to use it despite Lord Drayton’s
admonishment. He had no idea of the painful agony she’d endured in the sudden
loss of her voice. Although the slate was a poor substitute, it was her
lifeline in expression.
While those
walking behind them spoke quietly among themselves, Agnes’ tongue ran on
wheels, maintaining a strident prattle that echoed through the Hall. Although
Lord Drayton responded in polite tones, he didn’t elaborate on her words. Once,
he glanced down at Katherine, who had just noticed a sheen of moisture on his
forehead.
The moment Agnes
stopped talking long enough to take a breath, he said quietly, “Lady Katherine,
I apologize for my comment about your being a burden. I know you cannot help
your circumstances.”
Agnes gave an
annoyed click of her tongue.
Lord Drayton
continued, his tone a curious mixture of hope and reluctance. “Doctors examined
your throat, did they not?”
Katherine
nodded. What did Lord Drayton care about her throat?
“’Tis odd that
they couldn’t diagnose the cause of your silence.”
What was odd was
the heat that sizzled from his forearm. If they didn’t reach the table soon,
her hand would catch fire. Once, his elbow—unintentionally, she was sure—grazed
the side of her breast as they walked. A shiver rippled through her. She
swallowed against the ridiculous drumming of her heart and struggled to maintain
even breaths.
“You have a
competitive spirit, Agnes,” Lord Drayton said, and Katherine’s attention was
immediately drawn to his baritone voice as quickly as it had dismissed Agnes’
high-pitched tone. “Edward and Elizabeth won the last game of cribbage. We
shall play tonight, if you wish. Or, I could read from
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley