Three

THREE

Penfords’ House, Mayfair—London

Half eight that evening

Hiding a triumphant smile, Jack slid into the seat beside Aubriella. He snapped his serviette open and smoothed it across his black pantaloons. Likely miffed at the seating arrangements, she refused to acknowledge his presence.

She’d come around, eventually.

He knew how to draw her out, though it usually involved her temper flaring. Meanwhile, he would surreptitiously look his fill at the lovely young woman she’d transformed into for dinner.

The candles cast a golden glow on her pretty sable-brown hair and caused the pearls encircling her slender ivory neck and dangling from her shell-like ears to gleam. Her cream muslin gown, with its sea-foam green overskirt and embroidered flowers at the hem and around the sleeves, enhanced the fern-green in her hazel eyes.

Unlike her sisters, Aubriella would never be considered a beauty by society’s limited and warped standards. Jessamine and Lenora were lovely—roses or peonies in full bloom. But tall and slender, Aubriella was a delphinium or gladiolus.

He hid a grin behind his wineglass.

She would loathe the comparison.

Though most women adored flowers, she’d always preferred medicinal plants, herbs, or even weeds. Yes, Aubriella Kendra Larkspur Penford was remarkably unique.

Jack’s interest in her wasn’t romantic.

After all, she was his good friend’s sister, and he’d known Aubriella for so long that they were practically family. He supposed his fascination with her stemmed from him appreciating a challenge, and she was the most provoking woman he’d ever met. Her disdain and dislike of him had puzzled him for years, and try as he might, he couldn’t recall what he’d done to earn her disfavor.

He glanced across the table to where his and Emmet Penford’s longtime friend, Shelby Tellinger, regarded Roxina Danforth with barely concealed mockery. Roxina’s brother, Mitchel, seated at Aubriella’s right, was Tellinger’s best friend.

It was a peculiar coupling as Tellinger was an upright chap and several years younger, though a tad temperamental and serious. On the other hand, Mitchel Danforth was a wastrel and fop, and those were his good qualities.

He treated his sister abominably, and she openly held in contempt anyone who called themselves Mitchel’s friends. Thus, she and Tellinger were constantly at odds.

In truth, they were rather like Jack and Aubriella, although for entirely different reasons.

“That gown is very becoming.” Jack sipped his wine, awaiting Aubriella’s response.

None came.

So, she meant to play that game, did she?

Give him the silent treatment?

Hadn’t she learned by now he knew exactly how to maneuver past her bastions?

Servants cleared the artichoke soup, replacing it with fish seasoned with fennel and mint. The Penfords, like the others seated at the table, weren’t aristocrats, though some present had aristocratic relatives, such as himself. These were genteel people, hovering on the fringes of le beau monde and considered vulgar by the haut ton because they earned a living.

“Are you going to ignore me the entire evening?” Jack whispered near Aubriella’s ear, inhaling her subtle perfume—light and citrusy with a hint of jasmine. She’d gone all out for her brother’s birthday, which showed how much she adored Emmet.

She stiffened so slightly that no one else noticed and pasted a false smile on her face.

“I’m not ignoring you.”

Bugger me if she isn’t.

“You are, Aubrie, but I’m at a loss as to why.”

A moment later, Jack’s thigh burned with sharp pain.

She’d pinched him.

The vixen actually pinched him.

“My name is not Aubrie.”

A chuckle throttled up his throat.

He swept his gaze across the table.

Georgine Thackerly, another of Aubriella’s good friends, watched him, three neat lines furrowing her forehead. Her astute gaze traveled back and forth between him and Aubriella before, with a small indefinable smile, she inclined her head to listen to something Robyn Fitzlloyd said.

Jack shifted his attention back to Aubriella.

That had been the case more and more this past year or so.

Whenever she was near, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. She’d wanted to become a physician or a surgeon, but women were forbidden in the profession.

She was practically invisible to her parents, and with diamond-of-the-first-water sisters who always drew the lion’s share of attention, she’d resigned herself to spinsterhood and studying her science specimens.

What a colossal waste of womanhood and wit.

Head tilted, Aubriella listened to Mitchel Danforth ramble on. At least she pretended to listen. From the faraway look in her eyes, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Jack couldn’t fault her for her inattentiveness.

Danforth, the long-winded sot, could blather on for ages without saying a dashed thing remotely intelligent or interesting. Add his boasting and self-important prattling to the one-sided conversation, and even the staunchest adherer to decorum’s mind would’ve wandered.

Why had the Penfords invited that rotter to Emmet’s birthday celebration?

Jack glanced up and down both sides of the table.

Likely to even out the males and females.

Heaven forbid that there be one man or one woman too many.

The stars might fall from the sky, or the tides cease to turn.

In all, fourteen people sat at the table.

The Penfords, their eldest daughter Lenora and her husband, Stephen Langford, accounted for seven. The Danforths, Georgine Thackerly, and Jack made eleven. Friends of Jack’s and Emmet’s, Shelby Tellinger and his cousins Robyn and Matilda Fitzlloyd, completed the guests.

How often had these same people, sans Mitchel Danforth, gathered over the years?

Too many to count, and in truth, they were more like family than Jack’s kin, except for his younger brother, who couldn’t attend tonight because Duncan was away on business.

Aubriella lifted her attention from the fish Danforth had unceremoniously plopped upon her plate moments before and caught Jack staring at her. Instead of averting his gaze, he winked, and her hazel-green eyes widened the merest bit before she presented her profile again.

Sighing inwardly at the polite coolness she generally directed toward him, Jack leveled Danforth a contemplative glance.

The man was an ignorant buffoon.

Though acceptable for a gentleman to serve the ladies nearest him, said gentleman might inquire whether the lady desired fish. Anyone who knew Aubriella at all knew she didn’t eat fish.

It gave her hives.

So did strawberries.

Having known her since she was a curious, tousle-haired nine-year-old with eyes too large for her thin face, Jack knew those and a hundred other inconsequential details about her.

Danforth’s fawning attention raised Jack’s hackles.

Since when had the libertine shown an interest in Aubriella?

Was he at home when she visited Roxina?

It was none of Jack’s business, but the notion rankled, particularly given Danforth’s unsavory reputation. Maybe he ought to have a private word with Emmet or Mr. Penford regarding the matter.

Not that independent and fiery Aubriella would listen to her brother or father.

“What are you currently studying?” Jack speared a piece of flaky fish. “I believe Emmet mentioned something about da Vinci’s drawings?”

The most intelligent woman Jack had ever met, Aubriella eyed him as if she wasn’t sure if he jested or was serious. “Yes, I recently acquired a few copies. They are quite interesting.”

Her standoffish demeanor did nothing to dissuade him.

“I’d love to see them.” He truly would.

Da Vinci was a genius, his work inspiring.

Aubriella’s face drained of color before she recovered and cleared her throat. “I’m sure they’d bore you.”

Eyes slightly narrowed, Jack regarded her. Red apples had formed on her cheeks, waxen but seconds before. If he had to guess, he’d suspect she was nervous and hiding something.

Just what were the drawings she’d attained?

“I’d wager one of my restaurants that you’re not studying his inventions.” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge.

She shook her head, the curls left to frame her face, swaying with the motion. “No, they’re?—”

“Will you and your brother join us at the Templetons’ again this year, Jack?” Mrs. Penford asked with her fork poised halfway to her mouth, thereby saving Aubriella from answering.

From beneath his lashes, Jack cast her a swift glance.

Hand halfway to her wineglass, she froze and turned those magnificent eyes upon him.

She silently asked, “ Will you ?”

Until this moment, he’d been undecided. He nodded. “If Duncan and I can get away, we shall, Mrs. Penford.”

Did Aubriella’s mouth turn downward the merest bit?

Why was she so averse to him?

Jack took a deep sip of wine, savoring the flavor before the liquid slid down his throat.

Since she turned fourteen or fifteen, she’d been far more reserved than she had as a child when he’d brought her many interesting things to examine. But this past year, she’d become positively frigid in his presence. It was as if he’d offended her, but he didn’t know how.

“Robyn and I are attending as well.” Miss Fitzlloyd smiled at her older brother, and he kicked his mouth upward into an affectionate grin.

“As if you gave me any choice, minx. She’s been talking about naught else for weeks now.” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and glanced around the table. “Does anyone else intend to make the trip?”

Westerham lay just over twenty miles away.

Like Jack, many of the other guests tonight were parentless, and the kindhearted Templetons had begun inviting the orphans for holidays years ago. Mrs. Templeton was Mrs. Penford’s bosom girlhood friend and cousin, so the families usually spent the holiday together.

“I hope it snows from now until next week.” Aubriella’s heated statement, mumbled beneath her breath, yanked Jack’s attention back to her. She stared at her plate, an aura of defeat about her.

“Why?” He cut a piece of mackerel. “Don’t you want to attend the Templetons’ house party?”

“No. I. Do. not.” She snapped each clipped syllable under her breath.

“Why not?” Jack believed she enjoyed the annual gathering, though he’d usually been too busy celebrating and making merry to notice whether Aubriella did or didn’t. Guilt kicked him in the ribs.

She licked her lower lip and, after casting a swift glance toward her mother, leaned toward him. Once more, her fragrance tickled his senses.

“You know I’m hopeless at those sorts of gatherings, Jack. I stick out like a lame goose among graceful swans. I never know what to say or do and inevitably embarrass myself.”

Trying not to appear too smug because she’d addressed him by his given name and because she’d confided in him, Jack gave the back of her hand a fleeting, comforting touch even as his ribs cramped with compassion.

He hated how she disparaged herself.

“What if I promise to stay by your side the entire time?” The words formed of their own volition before passing through his mind. Now he’d have to make sure he attended.

“Surely, not the entire time.” Mirth twinkled in Aubriella’s eyes. She rarely indulged in witticisms, but he took her meaning.

“Yes. Quite,” Jack agreed with an answering upward sweep of his mouth.

A servant interrupted to refill their wine glasses, and Jack continued once the footman had stepped away. “I meant that I shan’t leave you alone during any planned events or public gatherings. You can depend on me to help you through every situation.”

Wonder and suspicion shadowed her mesmerizing hazel eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Why, indeed?

“Because that’s what friends do.” Jack had never had female friends, so he wasn’t certain that was entirely true.

Oh, he flirted and bantered incessantly.

What harm was there in making a woman feel pretty or appreciated?

He’d even pried an ardent female or several off his person, but the truth was, Jack was a virgin. A wholly unpopular state amongst his randy peers and a secret no one but his brother knew, and he meant to keep it that way.

A small furrow appeared on Aubriella’s forehead as she skated her glance over his face.

Laughter rang out from the head of the table, momentarily gaining Jack’s attention.

“ Friends .” She murmured the word as if she had tasted something foreign for the first time. “You and me… friends .”

“Is that such a hard prospect to consider?” he asked.

Once more, servants collected their plates, forcing him to wait as they placed the wild game and meats on the pristine linen. Across the table, Robyn Fitzlloyd caught his eye and raised a hawkish eyebrow in silent question when he swung his focus to Danforth.

Ah, he also wondered why the bounder dined with them.

Hopefully, Danforth wouldn’t attend the house party. His presence was as unwelcome as maggots and would surely put a damper on the festivities as well as put every woman under sixty at risk of ruin.

“It won’t inconvenience you?” Aubriella’s softly spoken question brought Jack back to the present. “Keep you from other more exciting and invigorating—ah—activities?”

Jack almost choked on his mouthful.

Surely she didn’t imply…?

He raised his shoulder an inch in response. “No, it’s not an inconvenience.”

Jack’s pulse accelerated at the prospect of spending amiable time with Aubriella without conflict, barbed and cutting ripostes, and darkling looks. It would also spare him the unwanted and unsolicited attention of devious vixens such as Francine Willoughby and her ilk.

“I should count it a great honor, Aubrie.” Giving her a naughty grin, he wiggled his eyebrows. “Imagine the tongue wagging it will cause. The speculation.”

As he’d expected, Aubriella rolled her eyes ceilingward and bent her full mouth into a droll smile. “I don’t relish being the object of gossip, and you shouldn’t either, though I’m certain you’re quite accustomed to it.”

Jack canted his head. There was an unspoken message in her words, but bugger him if he had any idea what it was. “I try to refrain from activities that give chinwags fuel for fodder.”

“ Hmph .” Distinct disbelief weighted Aubriella’s unladylike grunt.

“You don’t believe me, Aubrie.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Why did she doubt him?

Had she heard rumors?

Was that what caused her coolness?

“Have you heard something I should know, Aubrie?”

Once more, she looked positively ill but shook her dark head, causing her earrings to swing back and forth. Nevertheless, when she met his eyes, distrust and uncertainty lingered in the depths of hers, the color of a forest at twilight.

She filled her lungs, causing her bosom to swell temptingly, then released the air in a rush. “Oh, very well. Though I’m positive I shall regret the impulse, I accept your offer.”

“Excellent.” Jack barely suppressed a jubilant grin. “And I promise you shan’t regret it.” He had every intention of assuring Aubriella had nothing to repine upon and much to celebrate for trusting him.

This was his one chance to prove himself to her, and by thunder, he’d not muck it up.