The Lady By His Side(58)
She knew his reputation and could imagine that, if he put his mind to it, he would be utterly diabolical in driving a lady to distraction. She was quite sure he knew all the ways. That earlier, thoroughly unnerving caress of his had proved that.
What she wasn’t sure about was what that sudden, unprecedented action of his presaged. Did it signal intent on his part, or had it been more instinctive?
Or had he done it in revenge for all the jolts she’d given him over the long afternoon?
She wasn’t sure what answer or answers she hoped were correct, which was another level of distraction altogether.
Regardless, she’d spent the last decade in the far more demanding circles of the haut ton. With easy assurance, she chatted with Mr. McGibbin and Mr. Parrish, both of whom she judged to be in their early forties, and by dint of subtle flattery and understated encouragement, soon had them both vying to tell her—and Sebastian, who stood quietly absorbing all by her side—everything about their recent successes in their various endeavors. Along the way, both imparted a large amount of information about their lives. Nevertheless, it took more than twenty minutes before she managed to winkle from them the basis of their friendship with Ennis.
“We formed a landowners’ association, you see. Way back…” McGibbin looked at Parrish. “Well, must be nearly twenty years ago, now.”
Parrish nodded. “Although McGibbin here and I now live elsewhere in Ireland, we still retain our holdings north of Limerick. Our origins, so to speak.”
“It’s those holdings and the landowners’ association that made Ennis and us friends and kept us in touch over the years.” McGibbin pulled a face. “Shared interests.” He glanced at Parrish. “I suppose Boyne over there will continue to run the Ennis estate—he has for the last eight or so years—but we should tell Cecilia that we’ll be happy to help out with teaching Ennis’s boys the ropes.”
“Early days, yet,” Parrish replied. “But when the boys reach an appropriate age, it’d be a blessing to be able to do that for Ennis. He was a good friend.”
Antonia exchanged a glance with Sebastian. McGibbin and Parrish were wearing black cravats and black armbands, and seemed to have sunk into their memories of Ennis.
Before Sebastian could respond, the dinner gong sounded, and Blanchard appeared in the doorway to summon them to the table.
Cecilia, tonight dressed in unrelieved black crepe, rose from the sofa. Pale and drawn, she pressed her hands together and said, “If you would, I suggest we keep the seating informal.” She gestured vaguely. “There seems little reason to impose unnecessary strictures on ourselves. Not in these circumstances.”
Sebastian, who, had they been adhering to formality, would have led Cecilia in, half bowed to her. “Whatever you wish, Cecilia. I’m sure all of us here are happy to do whatever we can to make this stressful time as easy as possible, for you especially.”
Smiling a touch wanly, Cecilia inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
The company rose and, in twos and threes, made their way into the dining room.
Antonia rested her hand on Sebastian’s sleeve. As they joined Melissa and Wilson, and Claire and Filbury, Sebastian closed his free hand over hers—abruptly jerking her attention from everything and everyone else.
She managed to keep her expression relaxed and unconcerned, but that touch! It was overbearingly, domineeringly, ridiculously possessive—and set her nerves jangling.
Worse was to come. Releasing her to guide her to a chair, his hand settled at the small of her back, burning through three layers of silk. Scrambling to tamp down her reaction, feeling as if her until-then-easy smile was pasted on her lips, she managed to subside onto the chair he held for her with reasonable grace.
Finally free of his touch, while he claimed the seat beside her, she seized the moment to draw in a deep, calming breath. She didn’t immediately meet his eyes but instead engaged Hadley, opposite, with a smile.
Then Cecilia, about to take her seat at the foot of the table, waved her brother-in-law, who had escorted her in, to the empty carver at the head of the table. “Connell—if you wish…?”
Already pale and thoroughly overset in the wake of his brother’s unexpected death, Connell paled even further. He shook his head. “No. I can’t.” He glanced at Cecilia. “It wouldn’t be right. That’s…” Connell blinked, then drew in a tight breath and went on, “James’s place.”
Cecilia smiled weakly. “Of course. As you wish.”
Sebastian placed two fingertips on the back of Antonia’s wrist.