“Dinner is served,” came Edwards’s announcement.
“Miss Richardson, may I have the honor?” He offered his arm to her.
Her face lit up. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She took his arm, her smile wide.
As they walked out, he heard Simon offer his arm to Elise and while he felt a flash of anger, he buried it deep inside along with his wolf’s yowls. When they arrived at the dining room, he escorted Beatrice to her chair which was in the middle of the table seeing as she wasn’t one of the higher ranking ladies. He took his seat at the head, while Grandmama took the opposite end. Much to his dismay, Simon was seated next to Elise and he had to watch him charm her—and the other ladies around him—through most of the dinner.
“You know, that veal is already dead,” Eleanor remarked.
“Excuse me?”
She looked at his plate. “Your veal. It’s already cooked and dead, you don’t have to torture it.”
He froze and realized that he was holding his knife and fork with a vice-like grip and had viciously cut the meat into tiny pieces without eating a single morsel. “Very funny, Ellie.”
“Your Grace,” Viscount Daly said. “Is it true you’re having some unseasonably warm weather lately?”
“That’s what my gardeners told me,” Reed answered.
“Maybe we could have a tour of the estate?” Daly continued. “I’ve heard that Huntington Park is the most splendid estate in England. Even grander than the royal palace.”
“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Reed said. “But it had been expanded and kept up well.”
“How about a picnic?” Beatrice suggested. “It would be a shame not to take advantage of the weather.”
Reed snorted. “I don’t—”
Eleanor placed a firm hand on his arm. “It will be a nice break for everybody.” She glanced at Bridget, Julianna, and Elise. “I’m sure we would all enjoy it.”
He was about to protest when his grandmother chimed it. “What a splendid idea.” The dowager duchess waved away the footman who moved closer to refill her wine. “We should definitely have a picnic.”
“It must be so beautiful this time of year,” Signore Rossi said. “I’m eager to see the beauty of the English countryside, and perhaps I shall be inspired to paint.”
“There’s nothing more beautiful,” the duchess said. “I’ve always loved the grounds of Huntington Park, though I didn’t agree with all the newer additions.”
Though she hid her smile behind her napkin, Eleanor’s grin reached her eyes and he knew exactly what she was thinking and what their grandmother was referring to.
Their parents’ passion for each other was no secret, and they expressed it in many different ways. One way was a private garden they had built on the estate filled with erotic statues they had collected from all over the continent. “Lovemaking is a beautiful thing,” his father had said when he showed Reed the private area when he was coming of age. “Especially with your mate. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Elise again. Her head was turned to her right, chatting with Julianna, and his eyes immediately went to her exposed neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have just stopped so soon the other night. He would have liked to nuzzle down all the way to her—
“Reed.” Eleanor’s voice was firm. “How about it? A picnic tomorrow?”
He focused his attention back to his meal. “A picnic it is.” If everyone was going, he supposed it wouldn’t be too bad. And he could always talk business with Lord Daly and head back to the house if things got too boring which picnics often did.
“Excellent, I’ll have Mrs. Jameson arrange it,” Eleanor said.
Reed took a sip of his wine, contemplating leaving the picnic after an hour or so. Yes, that was a good plan. He would show up as he didn’t want to offend his guests, especially Viscount Daly, then he would make his excuses.
Beatrice sent him a knowing glance and a small smile, lifting her glass of wine toward him boldly. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that she was trying to flirt with him and normally he wouldn’t have entertained such thoughts, especially from a young miss and the daughter of a future partner in a lucrative business deal. However, it didn’t escape his notice that Elise was currently shooting daggers at Miss Richardson.
Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be boring at all.
Chapter Eight
“You look lovely, miss,” Melinda said as she gave Elise a final inspection.
“This riding habit is lovely,” she corrected, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. Despite what the maid said, she could only see the dark circles under her eyes and the sallow color of her skin, which was the result of long, sleepless nights.
Despite the fact that they spent two nights here, they still only had time to search twenty rooms so far. It was difficult to get into the more private rooms—such as the east wing where Reed, Eleanor and Jeremy, and the dowager duchess were staying because during the day there were dozens of servants milling about and at night, the family was there. They had tried their best to get more information out of Eleanor, but it sounded like she didn’t know anything either, while the duchess barely spoke to them unless it was to correct whatever mistake she and Julianna had made during their “lessons.”
It was frustrating to say the least, but Elise was glad that between her days with the dowager and nights searching for the dagger, she didn’t have time to think about Reed.
Except maybe right before she fell into bed, exhausted.
Or as soon as she woke up.
Or when she was dazing off into space while the dowager was giving some lecture about appropriate topics for small talk.
Ugh.
Damn Reed. Why did he have to go and kiss her? And, more important, why wasn’t he shocked into a coma?
Not all witches and warlocks had a power, but as her mother was one of those “blessed” with one, it wasn’t far off
