Five

FIVE

The dining room

A dozen fluttery heartbeats later

Jack had come.

And what was more, he’d sought Aubriella out first thing this morning. Two weeks ago, his attention would’ve infuriated her, but today?

Today, he’d become her rescuer.

Her savior.

Her hero.

Unfamiliar giddiness replaced the leaden weight in her tummy.

Because the truth of it was, she did mind being a maladroit laughingstock and the last person grudgingly chosen for games. She did notice the pitying glances and quickly shushed whispers about her ineptness.

Sometimes, not so hushed judgmental gasps, too.

For instance, when Aubriella sent the pall mall ball sailing across the lawn, the wooden sphere had smacked Lord Bradrawy in his prominent nose, bloodying the appendage. And when someone had bumped her during her turn at Snapdragon, Aubriella had tipped the bowl of flaming raisins and almonds over.

She still wasn’t positive Francine Willoughby hadn’t shoved her on purpose.

No one, not even a woman dedicated to science and logic, enjoyed constantly being the brunt of others’ jokes. If success this yuletide meant swallowing her pride and accepting her nemesis’s help, then Aubriella would choke on her blasted pride.

Especially, if said adversary was dastardly handsome and suave in a striking charcoal-gray coat, irritatingly skilled at all that she was not, and a favorite among the usual guests.

Just this once, Aubriella wanted to fit in.

Now that Jack was here, and if he fulfilled his promise, mayhap this yuletide gathering would be bearable, if not enjoyable, after all.

Jack set a full plate on the table before pulling out the vacant chair to her left. Without waiting for her reply, he sank his tall, lean form onto the green velvet cushion. Freshly shaved, his raven hair still slightly damp, and cologne wafting from his much too masculine form, he appeared at ease.

He always had.

She couldn’t recall a time when he’d been anything but nonchalant. Not indolent, just entirely at ease with himself. Something Aubriella still struggled with because she didn’t meet her family’s or society’s expectations.

How the devil did Jack manage such insouciance?

As if he neither noticed nor gave a fig what others thought of him.

In truth, he probably didn’t.

From down the table, Emmet nodded a greeting, which Jack returned with a half-smile and a jaunty wave. Quentin Honeybrook also dipped his chin in a brief greeting.

“Duncan will be along shortly.” After snapping his napkin open, Jack placed the linen across his lap. Aubriella tried not to notice how well his muscled thighs filled his buff-colored pantaloons. “We arrived well past midnight, and he was reluctant to leave his mattress this morn.”

“Good morning, Mr. Matherfield.” Matilda bobbed her head, the unruly riot of bright red curls held in place by a green ribbon wrapped around her head and tied beneath her chignon, threatening to spring loose at the motion. “We weren’t certain you’d be able to tear yourself away from London.”

“I have excellent managers, Miss Fitzlloyd, who I trust implicitly.” Jack veered his gaze toward Roxina. “Miss Danforth. No brother?”

He didn’t seem disappointed by Mitchel Danforth’s absence.

No one did.

Not even Roxina.

Roxina sat back in her tufted chair and crossed her arms across her remade gown. A gesture Aubriella had learned years ago was as much a protective measure as a deterrent. “No. My brother had other plans for the holiday.”

Plans which never included Roxina, and that was why she always came with the Penfords. It was that or spend the holiday alone since her parents died when she was thirteen.

A light eater content with toast and cocoa, Aubriella eyed Jack’s overflowing plate. “Hungry this morning, Mr. Matherfield?”

“Ravenous.” He speared a sausage with his fork and grinned before taking a generous bite. He swallowed and took a sip of black coffee.

“So, what are we undertaking this morning, Aubrie?”

Jack applied himself to his breakfast with admirable gusto.

So happy and relieved he’d actually come, Aubriella didn’t scold him for addressing her so informally in front of her friends. Nor did she give Roxina and Matilda the gimlet eye for the smug smiles they exchanged.

“It’s either archery or sketching this morning.” Aubriella wrapped her palm around the still-warm cup.

He patted his mouth— such a nicely shaped mouth for a man . “I presume you’d prefer sketching?”

Her one strength.

A Corinthian, he’d opt for archery, of course.

A wry half-smile twisted her mouth upward. “As my previous attempts at archery resulted in me nearly impaling a footman and Lady Brummelstroot’s beloved poodle, your presumption is correct.”

It had taken an hour to calm Lady Brummelstroot. To this day, she glowered at Aubriella whenever their paths crossed, which, thank goodness, wasn’t often.

“Elli is truly awful at archery.” Matilda sent Aubriella an apologetic glance.

“ Thank you , Tillie.” Aubriella couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from her tone.

It was true, but Matilda needn’t expound upon Aubriella’s lack of prowess. On the other hand, Matilda could send an arrow to the center of the target with seemingly little effort.

“Dearest, you know I mean no offense.” Matilda waved at Georgine as she entered. “Excuse me, please. Georgine wanted to speak with me this morning.”

Roxina pushed her chair back and rose. Smoothing a long-fingered hand down her out-of-fashion emerald green gown, she scooted her gaze from person to person.

“I promised Mrs. Templeton I’d help with the skit preparations.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “This year, it’s about the angels visiting the shepherd in their fields.”

Cousin Mabel believed her skits quite clever.

Her guests did not share her enthusiasm.

Roxina cast an exasperated glance upward. “Pray tell me how I am to recruit a cast for that?” She pinned Jack with a direct look. “I’m sure I can count on you to play the part of a shepherd?”

“Indeed.” He flashed her one of his disarming grins. “Unless you need an archangel?”

“ Hmm , I’ll consider it.” She turned her attention to Aubriella. “I’ll need you to be part of the angelic chorus.”

Oh, no.

“Zina, I don’t think—” Before Aubriella could finish refusing, Jack accepted on her behalf.

“Aubrie would love to.”

The bothersome scoundrel knows I cannot sing.

“Excellent.” After a satisfied nod, Roxina glided across the room, attracting more than one interested male’s gaze. She ignored them.

“Why did you do that?” Aubriella poked Jack’s arm and hissed, “You know I cannot sing.”

“I’ll be right there, and I can sing. Just follow me.” He winked, and her pulse fluttered.

“Easier said than done,” Aubriella muttered, still confused at the strange physical response he’d invoked.

“My dear Aubrie, when will you learn to trust me?”

His eyes darkened to sooty hazel blue, then he touched the back of her hand as he had done at dinner the other night. Such an innocent gesture, so why did tingles zip up her arm?

Aubriella slanted her head.

“Honestly? I have spent so long distrusting you, Jack, that I find it hard to lower my ramparts.”

Rather than mock her as was his wont, he gave a slow nod, his expression grave. “Let’s declare a truce for the house party. I shan’t tease you, and you won’t shut me out.”

It sounded so simple. Innocent. And logical, given he’d promised to help her.

So why did alarm bells toll in the back of her mind?

Regardless, what choice did Aubriella have?

“Agreed.” She pointed her forefinger and shook it. “But only for the house party’s duration, Jack. I cannot promise more.”

“That’s all the time I need.” His grin was positively feline as he dove into his breakfast once more.

What the devil did he mean by that?

It’s all the time he needs.

For what?