“It is rather,” Belle admitted, giving the man a warm smile. She thought perhaps he was in his early thirties, with brown hair and eyes that were indeed kind and a little anxious behind his spectacles. “I’m afraid this is the grandest dinner I have ever attended,” she said wondering if she admitted to her own discomfort she would put him at ease.
“Oh, well,” his lordship said, and Belle was gratified to see that he did seem a little more sure of himself. “There’s no one too terrifying here,” he said, though he cast a doubtful glance at Lady Scranford. “Well, at least Sindalton and Ware are great fellows, nothing high in the instep about either of them.”
“You know both the dukes?” she replied, impressed.
“Oh yes,” he said, with quiet pride. “I was at Eton with them both. They’re still the best of friends and really very good fellows.”
Belle nodded, intrigued that someone so obviously shy and academic should keep such glamorous company. “What about our host?” she asked, glancing up the huge table at the silent and glowering figure of the marquess. She hadn’t seen him utter a word all night and wondered how his lovely, vivacious sister could have such a taciturn man for a brother.
“Ah,” Nibley said, his eyes becoming rather sorrowful. “Man had a bad war,” he said, his voice quiet. “Never been the same.” He shook his head and followed her glance back to the marquess. “Such a shame. You’d never believe it was the same chap. He was always such a jolly fellow, full of fun and grig. Don’t think he remembers how to smile nowadays.”
“How dreadful. The poor man,” Belle said, looking at the towering and devastatingly handsome figure at the head of the table, and feeling her heart squeeze with compassion.
Lord Nibley nodded. “At least he came home,” he said, his face so sad that she knew he must have lost someone. “My cousin,” he replied to her unspoken question. “Wonderful chap, one of my closest friends, too.”
“I’m so terribly sorry.” Instinctively Belle laid her hand on his arm and Lord Nibley flushed, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or pleasure at her touch.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet, but he looked awkward now. “Forgive me, I ought not to discuss such things at the dinner table. I hope I haven’t upset you.”
“Of course not!” Belle exclaimed and removed her hand and blushed herself as she caught an approving expression on her aunt’s face. Oh goodness! The last thing she needed was for everyone to think she was setting her cap at the man on their first evening! How mortifying.
Though when she turned back to continue the conversation she noticed that his lordship was gazing with obvious admiration at the lovely Duchess of Sindalton. Not that she could blame him. Dressed in a gown of deep amber, the woman’s red hair glimmered in the candlelight and she looked as though she’d been dipped in copper.
Belle sighed inwardly. If she couldn’t even hold Nibley’s attention, she had little hope of snaring any of the other handsome young men here over the next few days.
She glanced across the table at her sister to find poor Crecy looking like a lamb cutlet surrounded by a pack of ravening dogs. Well, at least being ignored was a problem her sister would never suffer from, she thought with chagrin. Though she didn’t doubt for a moment that Crecy would trade places with her in a heartbeat.
***
Violette watched the men file back into the drawing room after their port with relief and reached for Aubrey’s hand as she made room for him to sit.
“Oh, Aubrey, I’m beginning to think I never ought to have suggested this,” she said in an undertone. “Eddie has barely spoken to a soul, I can’t imagine what people must think of him, and that dreadful Lady Scranford has been foul to poor Lord Nibley, let alone the nasty comments she’s made about the Misses Holbrook.”
She gave Aubrey a pleading look and felt herself relax a little as he just returned a comfortable smile and squeezed her fingers.
“There, there, love,” he said, his voice soothing. “Lady Scranford is simply jealous of Miss Lucretia. Anyone with half a brain can see through her shallow fa?ade. I’m sure Nibley can, at any rate, fellow has a brain the size of England, after all. Can’t imagine he’d give a hoot, frankly. As for your brother ...” He fell silent for a moment, looking over at the big, intimidating figure standing by the fireplace. His expression was dark and tense and obviously being used for the express purpose of scaring off any who dared contemplate speaking with him. “I think this will do him good,” Aubrey continued at length. “He’s a wretched devil, isn’t he? I have to confess I’ve been angry at him ever since we met for what he put you through, but ...”
“But?” Violette prompted as he fell silent again. She leaned forward and pushed a stubborn lock of auburn hair from her husband’s forehead, and felt a surge of contentment at having made such a wise choice in marrying him.
“But now I can only pity him,” Aubrey said with a sad smile. “He’s obviously miserable and angry, though I don’t think even he knows why or at what exactly.”
Violette nodded, feeling Aubrey was right, but it wouldn’t help them get through the next days of the house party.
“Yes, I’m sure you are right that it will do him good,” she said with an uncertain smile. “But what on earth will it do to our guests?” she demanded.
Aubrey shrugged and raised her hand to his lips to kiss the fingers. “I’ve no idea, love, but if he puts Lady Scranford in her place, I doubt anyone will be too concerned.”
Violette smothered a laugh and felt an unchristian desire to see her dreadful brother do just that.
“I do like the Misses Holbrook,” she said, watching the two sisters trying to evade their aunt’s attempt to throw them in the path of one of Aubrey’s best friends. Tommy was the Earl of Stanthorpe, as Mrs Grimble had no doubt discovered. To be fair, his lordship looked perfectly content to engage in conversation with Miss Lucretia. It was clear, however, that the young woman was not the fortune hunter her aunt was, as, with her sister’s help, she managed to evade her aunt’s efforts, and struck up conversation with the Bridgeford twins instead.
That was a good connection for them, Violette thought with satisfaction. The twins were lovely young women from a good local family, and their mother a sensible woman. They should get along famously.
“I’d say Tommy is rather struck with Miss Lucretia,” Aubrey whispered, his tone dry. “Though from the looks of it, I could say the same of Ben, Owen, and the Viscount Debdon.”
They watched in amusement as the four men cornered the four young ladies, and though all the gentlemen took courteous pains to speak to all of them, it was perfectly obvious that Miss Lucretia was their chosen prey. From the rather irritated flash of annoyance in the girl’s eyes, Violette realised that she did not like being the centre of attention one bit. From the look of pure vitriol that was cast at the poor girl from Lady Scranford, who was standing alone with her friend Alice, it was also rather obvious that she didn’t like Crecy being the centre of attention one bit either.