Page 40 of The Language of Love

“Sounds perfect,” Henry agreed, smiling at the footman.

Avington turned back to Henry as the servant fixed their plates. “The last ton ball I attended was years ago, before I joined the army.”

Henry couldn’t help noticing the earl’s evening coat—although exquisitely cut and of fine material—was shiny from frequent pressing. There was a story there, but Henry could tell from the man’s reserved tone he was in no hurry to share it.

Colin pushed up between them. “I say, my—er, Parker, this is dashed good fun, isn’t it?” His pale cheeks were flushed and his eyes sparkled.

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, my lord.”

“Who wouldn’t after being stuck in Dacca with all those dry sticks at the Company dances?” Colin waved vigorously at the nearest footman, who was already busy with somebody else. “You there!” He snapped his fingers when the footman continued serving his guests. “I want two plates and don’t be stinting.”

Henry sighed.

“You didn’t care for India, Rotherhithe?” Avington asked. “I shouldn’t have thought you would have remained there for twenty years.”

Henry could almost hear the puzzle pieces clunking into place in Colin’s head as he recalled who he was supposed to be.

“Oh, er, yes, quite so. But not Dacca, so much. I preferred to be at Sheesham Bagana, my grand property in the country.” Colin gave Henry one of his eager spaniel smiles and then leaned closer. “Have you met Miss Bowman’s cousins?” he asked in a whisper loud enough to be heard down at the East India docks. “The younger one—can’t recall her name right now—anyhow, have you seen the shelf of goods she’s—”

Henry gestured toward the footman, who was holding two plates toward Henry

“Please, take my plates, my lord.”

“Oh, jolly good.” Colin eyed the well-laden plates and grinned. “I’d better hoof it,” he told a transfixed Avington. “I’m hoping to hit the trough at least once more before we’re back to the mummery.” And then he was off.

“Seems to be enjoying himself,” Avington commented mildly.

“His lordship has a gregarious nature,” Henry said, his understatement earning a booming laugh from the other man.

“Well, it’s nice to see somebodyenjoying all this,” Avington said.

“You do not, my lord?”

“No, but I’d better learn to. Quickly.”

Before Henry could inquire more deeply, the footman returned with their plates of food.

Henry’s heart sank when he saw that Colin had found his way to their table and brought one of the Bowman harpies with him—the younger one, he thought. Still, he supposed it was good to keep his employee close at hand since he was proving to be not only an ill-mannered twit, but something of a social menace to boot.

Henry placed a plate in front of Annis and took the seat beside her, with Avington on her other side. Miss Susanna Bowman’s eye darted between Annis and Henry, an unpleasant smirk forming on her lovely mouth.

Lady Sedgwick, a woman with vast reserves of patience, steered the table’s conversation along lines that gave Colin no chance to say anything too shocking or inane. Between the countess and Avington, the conversation flowed, which left Henry free to observe Annis.

She ate her lobster patties first and picked at the rest of her food. She was such a dainty little thing. He did not think she looked very strong or hearty.

Henry nudged his plate toward her.

Annis turned away from Avington, who’d just said something to make the others laugh.

“Take my lobster patties,” he said.

Her ridiculously beautiful eyes lowered to his plate before bouncing back up. “You don’t want them?”

He shook his head.

She removed them one by one with her fork. “Thank you.”

Henry realized he was staring at her mouth and imagining it doing things other than eating lobster patties.