“Grant hates dinner parties,” Kade said. “He says they’re a waste of
time.”
Gillian laughed. “That’s rather insulting, given that we’re the dinner
party tonight.”
“It’s also completely untrue,” said the topic of discussion as he walked
into the room. “I only hate boring dinner parties. And from what Graeme has
told me, the Duchess of Leverton is definitely not boring. In fact, he said she
is the most interesting woman in
London.”
For a few moments, all Kathleen could do was stare. She’d thought Grant
Kendrick handsome before, dressed as an ordinary businessman. Now, garbed in
stark black and white evening kit, he looked spectacular.
Gillian scoffed. “He only says that because he destroyed a very
expensive Chinese screen at one of my parties. He’s still trying to make it up
to me.”
“I remember that night,” Kathleen said. “He’d caught someone trying to
cheat an elderly lady at cards, as I recall.”
“Yes. Graeme was quite . . .”
“‘Fashed’ is the word you’re searching for,” Grant said in a wry tone.
“Exactly. My screen was also became quite fashed, since your twin tossed
the cheater right into it,” Gillian replied.
“That’s our Graeme,” Royal said.
“I thought it one of the most entertaining parties in quite some time,
actually,” Kathleen said.
Gillian laughed. “My poor husband did not entirely agree.”
“Sabrina’s calmed the lad down,” Royal said. “Wives tend to do that sort
of thing.”
“Depends on the wife,” Gillian quipped.
“Which is why you won’t be bored tonight,” Kathleen said to Grant.
“Gillian won’t allow it.”
Something sparked to life in Grant’s expression as his gaze flickered
over her. Something that looked like. . . interest.
“I suspect you wouldn’t allow it either, Miss Calvert.”
He had a lovely voice. Deep and warm, with a slightly rough edge that almost
made her shiver.
Almost, because shivering over a man’s
voice would be ridiculous.
“It’s more of a challenge than one would expect,” she replied. “Most
people are awfully dreary, you know.”
When Grant’s expression turned blank, she winced.
“Present company excepted, of course,” she hastily added.
“Of course,” he said.
“Shall we go in to dinner?” the countess brightly suggested.
“I’d hold up on that for a wee bit, lassie.”
Angus had slipped into the room, wearing a sheepish expression.
The countess narrowed her gaze. “Grandda, what have you done now?”
“Not me,” the old man said in a defensive tone. “It was Nancy. She got
ahold of a wee little dish in the pantry. Nothin’ to speak of, ye ken.”
Lord Arnprior shook his head. “Can you not keep that little hellion
under control?”
“She’s nae hellion,” Angus protested. “Just high-spirited.”
“Grandda, Nancy is a disaster on four legs,” Grant said.
“Who’s Nancy?” Jeannie asked.
“Another one of Grandda’s terriers,” Kade explained. “She’s only a year
old, so her manners aren’t very good yet.”
“I think we can all agree that none of your grandfather’s dogs have very
good manners,” Lady Arnprior tartly added.
The butler stepped in, a pained expression on his dignified features. “I
beg your pardon, my lady, but dinner will be delayed. There has been an incident in the pantry.”
“Yes, so we just heard.” The countess sighed. “How bad is it, then?”
“The kitchen maid and the junior footman attempted to retrieve tonight’s
joint of beef from Nancy, giving chase.”
“I take it they were not successful,” Grant dryly said.
“The footman quite foolishly
tripped over Nancy when she swerved during the chase. He then compounded the
error by knocking over the table with the soup tureen and the fish course.”
“How very clumsy of him,” Gillian said, trying not to grin.
“Words fail me, Your Grace,” said Henderson, looking cut to the soul.
By now, Royal, Kade, and Jeannie were all laughing, and Kathleen was
doing her best not to aggravate the situation by joining them.
Grant simply crossed his arms and shook his head at his grandfather.
“It’s nae my fault, ye ken,” Angus said, protesting the silent
reprimand.
The countess glared at him. “It’s entirely
your fault. I take it Cook is in hysterics?” she asked Henderson.
“Smelling salts have been applied, but to little effect.”
At that, even Lord Arnprior couldn’t hold back laughter.
His wife pointed a finger. “This is no laughing matter, Nicholas.”
“Of course not, my love,” he said in a choked voice.
“Grant is the only man in this house with any sense,” she said with
disgust. “And the only one who will get any dinner, if I have my way. Come
along, Henderson. We must do our best to restore order.”
She paused at the door to scowl at Angus. “And you and I will be having
a discussion about this particular incident, and about your very bad dogs in general.”
Angus bristled. “Now, see here, lassie—“
“I wouldn’t, Grandda,” Arnprior warned.
With an indignant huff, the countess sailed out of the room, followed by
her faithful retainer.
“A lot of botheration over nothin’ if ye ask me,” Angus said with
commendable nonchalance. “Now, how about a wee dram to hold us over?”
2 comments:
Thank you so much for hosting The Highlander's Irish Bride!
Amy
HF Virtual Book Tours
My pleasure!
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