Page 38 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“As am I,” Lady Annesbury said hastily, casting a sideways glance at her mother. “Rebecca is a delight. It would pain me if she missed the entertainment this evening. Her sister, my cousin Mrs. Gilbert, will be joining us with her husband. You’ve met Mr. Gilbert.”

“I have. He was most welcoming.” Christian tried to relax. Rebecca would come for dinner. She’d only been tired. After all, she’d sat in the sun for hours reading before the picnic. And the day had been rather warm.

I really shouldn’t be this concerned about her. He raised a hand to run it through his hair, a habit his valet and grandfather abhorred, but the gesture was interrupted when the doors to the parlor were opened by the footmen in the hall.

Rebecca entered, her hair twisted up in coiled braids, the errant curl from that morning nowhere to be seen, and her cheeks and nose were pink from the sun. Christian watched her eyes skim across the room, a strange sort of anticipation building, waiting for the moment her gaze would connect with his.

It came with a sensation of falling, and a strange weightlessness entered in his chest when she walked toward him.

“Oh, Mother,” Lady Annesbury half-groaned, startling him enough that he took his eyes from Rebecca. The woman at his elbow looked as though she’d experienced some sort of pain. “Why do you insist on putting her in such horrid colors?”

The older woman drew herself up and spoke sharply. “That dress is perfectly fashionable and appropriate.”

Rebecca’s dress? He turned back to watch her approach. She was nearly halfway across the room, but she stopped to speak to Lady Felicity. Her eyes darted to his as he watched, however, and her lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. His lips twitched in answer, but his eyes dropped to take in the gown she wore, which he honestly hadn’t taken pains to notice. It was a yellow so vivid and bright he was reminded of lemons. The sleeves were puffed and scalloped, the hem ruffled, and deep purple embroidery covered the edges of the collar.

“Mother, she looks like a canary,” Lady Annesbury protested in a whisper.

“Her dress yesterday was too dull and this one is too bright. Make up your mind, Virginia.”

Rebecca finished her exchange with Lady Felicity and took the last steps to his side, her upturned face wearing a smile that made even the dress she wore pale in comparison. His insides performed rather dangerous acrobatics he tried hard to ignore.

How can she smile at me like this after our argument?

“Good evening, my lord,” she said, her voice musical and lovely.

Nothing about her appeared out of place now, though he thought her freckles stood out a trifle more. The surprising relief of knowing she was not upset with him made him breathe easier. Moments ago, he’d wanted to rekindle their debate, but now—now he was just happy to see that Rebecca was well.

“Good evening, Miss Devon.” He half-bowed. “Did you rest well?”

“Tolerably. Thank you.”

The butler entered, announcing dinner. Christian offered his escort to Rebecca. The seating arrangements were different than previous meals; he was seated across from her. Once he saw Rebecca comfortably in her chair, Christian went to his with a light step. They couldn’t converse with any ease or privacy, but at least—

He stopped his thoughts, realizing how ridiculous they were. He was hardly an enamored puppy.

Christian ought to be put out with her. Repulsed by her insistence they become more than indifferent acquaintances. Instead, he’d thought of her all afternoon. Looked forward to seeing her, even if it had only been to resume their battle of words.

It was ludicrous behavior. His grandfather would be appalled.

He met Rebecca’s eyes across the table and her soft smile reappeared.

Perhaps he ought to stop thinking about what his grandfather’s reaction would be. After all, it wasn’t his grandfather she was marrying. She would be Christian’s bride.

Warmth spread through his chest at that thought, startling him. He turned his attention to his meal, fighting against the desire to watch her. His responses to his dinner partners’ conversation were terse and short. The number of times his feelings betrayed his carefully planned approach to his marital arrangement concerned him.

When he’d thought Rebecca Devon dangerous after their first conversation in the music room, he’d been right. The woman was a threat to him. If he wished to safeguard his heart, to avoid the devastation that had ruined his parents, marrying her would never work.

After dinner, the guests adjourned together and stepped into the sitting room, which had been rearranged with card tables and chairs, the more comfortable couches pushed to the edges of the room. It was evident the card party guests had begun to arrive.

Lord Annesbury appeared beside Christian and clapped a hand to his arm. “Ah, more family for you to meet.” He nodded toward a far corner of the room where Rebecca’s bright yellow dress drew Christian’s eye. Though he would admit the color wasn’t flattering, it proved as useful as a signal flag in a crowd.

Following behind the earl, Christian took note of the people standing with Rebecca. Mr. Gilbert he recognized, of course. The woman at his side had to be his wife, given the resemblance of hair and features to Rebecca, though she was shorter. Lady Annesbury stood with them, laughing and speaking freely.

“Ladies, Gilbert.” The earl gestured to Christian. “Lord Easton, may I present Mrs. Thomas Gilbert to you? Mrs. Gilbert, Lord Easton.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, though she curtsied properly to his bow. “My lord,” she said, her lips pressing together over the title.

Though used to cool receptions, to receive one from Mrs. Gilbert when her sister, husband, and cousin had been welcoming, surprised him. “Mrs. Gilbert. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Miss Devon has spoken of you frequently.”