“As you should. I told you I’d found the perfect woman. She happens to be American, but that seems to be her only flaw.”
He laughed. “She’s pretty, soft-spoken, and a real angel. She’ll make you some beautiful children. Perhaps you can hand the reins of your little charity thing to her, although I doubt she’ll approve of housing all those dysfunctional families in the castle.”
A small hand slid over his arm, and a warm feeling flooded his heart. Gabe. He turned to see her gazing at him with feigned admiration. What an actress.
She focused on his uncle. “May I call you Uncle George since we’ll be family soon?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” She beamed warmth mingled with something indefinable, yet hypnotizing. “I overheard you speaking of the Ripon Women’s Group. Henry’s work with them is inspiring. With the changes he proposes, he’ll improve the lives of many wonderful women and children whose only crime was picking a lousy boyfriend or husband.” She squeezed his arm. “Knowing these families can benefit from the generosity of the Chilton family compels me to assist him in the renovation of that section of the castle. What a legacy Henry will leave to future generations. I’m so proud of his efforts.” She turned those lovely eyes back toward him and made him wish for a moment that their engagement wasn’t fictitious.
Aunt Mary called everyone to dinner. After Uncle George left to help her, Henry linked his arm in hers, and they strolled into the dining room together.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Your family seems nice. Your aunt adores you.” She smiled up at him.
“By the end of the evening, I’m sure you’ll become her favorite.” He stopped a moment to kiss her. He’d never been so addicted to a woman. Suddenly, the party was overcrowded and boring. He wanted to take Gabe home.
The dining room could sit twenty people in comfort. Rose-tinted curtains framed amazing views of Hyde Park. The table covered in white damask glimmered with crystal glasses and silverware. A huge bouquet of white roses and lilies, his aunt’s favorite flowers, decorated the center of the table and guaranteed that no one on the far ends of the table would see the other side.
Gabe sat between a Russian model and Frank Stevens, a thirty-year-old viscount and the founder of a biotech firm near Greenwich. Henry tried to hear their conversation, but caught mere snippets, something about Frank’s need for capital and Gabe’s suggestion of angel investors. From Henry’s vantage point, Frank appeared mesmerized by her, completely caught up in their conversation. She acted as though Frank was the only person in the room. Her sweetness came across as seductive. At least to Henry it did. And he wanted that seductive look all to himself. Jealousy burned in his chest, but she wasn’t his. And never would be.
Chapter Eleven
If Alex had to speak to Frank for one more minute about the potential for a biotechnology boom in developing countries, she’d be forced to cut out his throat with her fish knife. Instead, she raised her eyebrows, fixed her mouth a shade lower than a smile, and nodded in agreement with whatever he said.
Regretfully, Frank took that as encouragement to continue speaking. “Our major competition is a US company, Oak Industries. They hold most of the patents in the field and the CEO, Peter Northrop, works nonstop to keep the company on the cutting edge of vaccine development and HIV treatments. It works, because no one beats Oak in biotechnology right now.”
Crap. Of all the people in London, to be paired with someone who knows Dad. God must be having a huge cosmic laugh over this seating plan.
Had Frank ever met her father? If he had, he may also have met her mother. Alex didn’t inherit her mother’s abilities as a socialite, but she did inherit most of her facial features, especially her petite nose and light brown eyes.
At the mention of Oak Industries, she rubbed her thumb over the bandage covering her acorn tattoo. She didn’t want to talk about anything related to her family. The topic soured her stomach and thoroughly depressed her, especially since Frank had spoken the truth. Peter had never been the best father, but was always the best in business.
Frank took a sip of wine and stared at her. “You look remarkably familiar.”
“I do?” she asked, flipping part of her hair in front of one of her eyes.
“Yes, but I can’t place your face. Have you been to any parties in Silicon Valley recently?”
“No. My work keeps me in Europe.”
“Give me time. I never forget a face.”
Their conversation needed to veer away from the biotechnology field. Pretending to drink more than she had, she expounded on the wonderful bouquet in the Chianti complementing the savory beef dish. It worked. Frank followed her into a discussion of vineyards in Italy. She sat through the rest of the meal smiling and providing innocuous answers to probing questions.
One of the Russian beauties whispered to her compatriot in their native tongue. They probably assumed they were either being quiet enough not to be overheard or no one had the intelligence to learn such a random foreign language. A stupid practice, by stupid people.
The lanky brunette told the fake redhead that the blonde sitting next to her was going to marry the earl. The redhead glanced at Alex and smiled. She then raised her eyebrows in condescension and giggled. Even if Alex didn’t know Russian, it would be hard to miss the slight.
“What was he thinking?” Red asked in her native tongue.
Her bony counterpart whipped her hair back and smirked. “He wanted a pretty little thing that wouldn’t cause him any trouble. It won’t last. She has nothing going for her. She’s flat-chested, short, and has a boring personality. He’ll be sick of her before the honeymoon is over.”