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She looked over at Lily and the duke, who were seated at Thomas’s table. Lily was deep in conversation with her husband, and the affection they held for each other was abundantly clear. The little touches, the knowing smiles, the lingering gazes at each other…
That was what she wanted with Thomas.
What Lily had with the duke.
What Rose had with Cameron.
What her own mother had had with her father, even after his brain damage.
That was what she yearned for, and that was what she deserved.
“Perhaps the two of us could take you on a stroll after the meal,” Lord Polk said. “If your dear mother is available, of course, to act as chaperone.”
A stroll with both of them? Tricia’s thoughts flew again to Lady Portia in The Ruby. Was that even proper? But they were gentlemen of the peerage. At least Polk was. Surely they knew what was proper and what wasn’t.
“Perhaps,” Tricia said. “That could be quite lovely.”
“Or, if your mother’s not available, perhaps your sister-in-law the countess. Or the duchess herself.”
Tricia’s cheeks warmed. The duchess knew well enough that Tricia didn’t want a walk with these two, no matter how handsome and gentlemanly they seemed.
The only person she wanted to stroll with was Thomas, but he was the host of this affair, so he would most likely be quite busy after dinner. He’d head into the smoking room with the gentlemen, drink cognac, smoke a cigar or a pipe, and try to solve all the problems of the monarchy, she was sure.
Tricia had only eaten about half her food when the footmen came by to clear the dishes once more. Soon the salad course was served, a refreshing mixture of greens, cucumbers, radishes, and cherry tomatoes dressed lightly with vinaigrette.
The purpose of the salad course, Tricia had learned since her introduction to the peerage, was to cleanse the palate before the dessert. But Tricia enjoyed greens for their own sake. Cucumbers, radishes, and cherry tomatoes had grown in the gardens on the Lybrook Estate. She enjoyed the crunch of the cucumbers, the bite of the radishes, and the citrusy tang of the vinaigrette. As much as she did enjoy a good salad, though, the greens could not compare to the roast beef or the salmon.
“I did not know you were part rabbit, my lady,” Polk said to her.
She eyed both Lord Polk’s and Jonathan’s plates. Neither had touched their greens.
“Do you not care for salad, gentlemen?”
“I’m not a fan of anything green,” Jonathan said.
“The asparagus served with the fish was one thing,” Lord Polk agreed. “But salad? Thank you, but no.”
Tricia craned her neck to look at the rest of the plates at her table. Nearly all of the gentlemen left the salad untouched, and most of the ladies as well, with the exception of her mother and her sister.
What a waste! This food would be returned to the kitchens and then thrown out. Perhaps given to the hogs or the cattle.
Tricia did abhor the waste of foodstuffs. Her family had never gone hungry during their tenancy on the Lybrook Estate, but there were some times when their bellies were not quite pleasantly full.
“Have you ever tried salad?” Tricia asked the gentlemen.
“Can’t say that I have,” Jonathan said.
“Only as a lad,” was Lord Polk’s response. “My nanny insisted, but once I came of age, never again.”
“Does the waste of foodstuffs not bother you?”
Polk sniffed. “When it comes to rodent food, no, not at all.”
Tricia shook her head. “The two of you don’t know what’s good. Try it, why don’t you?”
“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said.
“Please”—she batted her eyes—“for me?”
