Glittering gold silk or the rather plain lavender? Don’t be silly. What does it matter? It’s a simple family dinner, not a London ball. Aside from that, who did she seek to impress? Certainly not him. Not Valen. Heavens no!
Not only was he a rascal bent on bedeviling her at every turn, but he probably hadn’t enough money to pay off her father’s old tailoring bill, much less set her younger sisters up for a season or have the roof mended. The farrier, some servants, and a few others had been compensated by the sale of their livestock. Even so, there remained a heavy stack of bills yet to meet, and she sincerely doubted Lord St. Insulting had a large enough allowance to cover it.
That settled the matter. She was a pauper. As such she would dress humbly in the pale purple silk. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the tub, commanding herself to relax. It felt delicious to bathe after such a tedious morning.
Tedious, yes, that was it. Tedious to have his arms around her. Tedious, to be kissed in such a manner. Except he hadn’t kissed her. She had kissed him. Elizabeth opened her eyes and frowned, unable to relax any longer.
“The wretch.” She slapped at the bath water sending a spray splashing out onto the stone floor.
They gathered in the great hall. Servants carried Lord Ransley down in an invalid’s chair and wheeled him into their midst. His brown wispy hair was coifed perfectly, and if one overlooked the white cast of his complexion, he looked quite elegant in a blue superfine coat.
Elizabeth curtseyed.
He waved her up. “And my son? I thought surely he would be down before me.”
“Better not have gone off riding again,” Lady Alameda warned the absent Valen with considerable irritation. “Or I’ll ring a bell over his head he won’t soon forget.”
“Peal,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Precisely. I’ll peel back his ears.” But before the countess could peel or pin anyone’s ears, Valen descended the stairs.
Elizabeth’s heart thumped up into her neck. His hair had been cut short. He wore a waistcoat made of a subtle gold brocade, and his black cutaway was tailored so exquisitely that every Corinthian in London would be envious. Elizabeth remembered to breathe at the same time she realized she’d selected the wrong dress. She would appear a dull country mouse, and he a sophisticated paragon.
“What are you all staring at?” He arched one brow as he strolled up to them, and all three continued gawking as if he were an apparition.
Elizabeth felt like she ought to curtsey, but instead she dropped onto a chair and frowned down at her icy lavender gown with its prudent neckline and plain lines.
“You scrub up rather well, dearest.” Lady Alameda kissed Valen on the cheek.
“Yes.” Lord Ransley coughed. “Don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look so elegant.”
“You need not all look so astonished. One would think I’d sprouted horns. It’s merely a haircut. For which you may thank your valet.”
The valet peeked out at the top of the stairs, peering proudly at his handiwork.
Valen rolled his eyes heavenward. “You may all congratulate him later. Are we going to go in to dinner or not? If we intend to follow the formalities, my lord, I believe you and my aunt are supposed to lead the way.”
He held out his arm for Elizabeth, but as soon as she accepted and rose to her feet, he assumed the position of pushing his father’s chair. Lady Alameda walked beside her brother, and Elizabeth walked next to Valen in stunned silence.
The dining room walls were a series of wooden panels. The panels were outlined in carved casings and set in the middle with a pastoral scene, or a painting of a royal hunting party, dogs, roosters, or great bowls of flowers. At the far end of the room stood a gigantic carved fireplace, unlit because of the warmth of the evening. With such dark walls, even the giant candelabras were able to do little to illuminate the room.
The table was arranged en famille so that they all sat together at one end of the massive table while servants silently laid out the first course. Lord Ransley coughed into his handkerchief, but when he recovered, he looked out at his guests in pleasure.
Valen frowned. “Are you absolutely certain the exertion is not too much?”
Lord Ransley waved away his son’s concerns. “No. No. This is the happiest day I’ve had in a long while.” He nodded and smiled broadly. “Feeling quite the thing today. Had the windows open. Perhaps the fresh air did me some good.”
Honore dipped up her white soup and sipped it loudly, as was the custom. “Did you enjoy your tour of the ruins today, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth glanced guiltily at Valen. “I... um… they were very... uh... interesting.”
“I warned you.” Valen shrugged. “Telescope at the upstairs window, no doubt.”
Lady Alameda appeared affronted. “Whatever can you mean?”
Valen didn’t answer, merely cocked his head and smiled sardonically at his aunt.
Lady Alameda concentrated on her soup, scooping up a spoonful laden with almonds. “We were simply concerned about where Lady Elizabeth might have gotten off to, what with spies running about the countryside and all.”
Valen shook his head as if they were a pair of wayward children. “I think it is safe to say the only spies here in Suffolk are you two.”
“You were both at the window?” Elizabeth asked, wishing she might crawl under the table and hide.
“Piffle. We weren’t spying. I was merely showing your father the new glass I’d purchased. Latest rage. Everyone has one. Daresay mine is considerably more advanced than the ones most sea captains have.”
“I’ve no doubt.” Valen seemed unconcerned that he and
