The Lady By His Side(59)

Although the touch sent sensation streaking through her, she tipped her head his way and murmured, “James is Ennis’s older son and heir.”

Sebastian nodded, and the disturbing touch vanished.

Contrarily, she immediately wanted it back.

Connell claimed the empty place between Georgia and Miss Bilhurst, both of whom murmured their support for his decision—an approval shared by all. The ladies endeavored to entertain Connell, and after drawing in another breath, he made an effort to respond.

Seeing nothing in Connell’s attitudes or behavior to raise anyone’s suspicions, Antonia shifted her attention to Filbury, intending to further her—and Sebastian’s—acquaintance with him and his background.

Somewhat to her surprise, while Sebastian did nothing to undermine her efforts directly, indirectly…every time an opportunity to discompose her, to capture her senses and derail her wits, presented itself, he was quick to seize it.

At first, she battled to keep her mental feet, but as his surreptitious actions continued, she discovered she could, indeed, successfully split her attention. She could continue to converse rationally with Filbury, and with Hadley and Melinda Boyne opposite, while simultaneously engaging with Sebastian and his game of sensual distraction.

She no longer harbored the slightest doubt that he was retaliating for her behavior of the afternoon. But having realized that his new direction played directly into—indeed, aligned perfectly with—her own plans, she was only too delighted to not just respond but encourage him.

In terms of touching, of artfully caressing without appearing to do so, he had the advantage; he could touch her by “accident” much more easily than she could innocently touch him. But this was a game she couldn’t lose.

She found herself smiling rather more delightedly than the conversation called for while inwardly thrilling to the way her nerves leapt and her senses sizzled at his covert caresses.

When he handed her a serving spoon for the trifle, she reciprocated by sliding her fingers over the back of his hand, and sensed him still—freezing in that way she now recognized as him jerking his own reins taut.

A minute later, under cover of shifting and reaching past her to hand a heavy cream bowl to Filbury, Sebastian skated his palm up her side, from her hip to the outer curve of her breast.

She nearly choked on the trifle.

Understanding that tit for tat was an unwritten rule in this game, she bided her time.

When Blanchard and the footmen started clearing the dessert plates, Cecilia tapped her glass with a spoon; the tinkling sound drew everyone’s attention to the foot of the table.

Cecilia directed a weak but commiserating smile around the company. “It seems we are trapped in one of those situations that our customary social prescriptions—the accepted patterns of behavior we normally adhere to—fail to cover. If Ennis had simply passed on, then you would have offered your condolences and departed this morning, leaving me and Connell to arrange the funeral. However, as Ennis was murdered, you are not free to leave, and today, I have learned that my husband’s body will not be released for burial for at least several more days.”

Cecilia clasped her hands tightly and glanced at Mrs. Parrish, who nodded encouragingly. After glancing at Mrs. McGibbin, on her other side, and receiving a similar nod, Cecilia looked down the table. “We—several of us”—she waved vaguely—“have discussed how best to go on. What will be acceptable and also most comfortable for us all. We are, in effect, in a social limbo. We are cut off from all other society. I doubt there are any of our number who feel we must eschew all form of entertainment in the name of being respectful to the dead—to Ennis. I can assure you he would not see us sitting around being mournful as being in any way desirable.” Cecilia paused and, down the table, met Connell Boyne’s eyes. She smiled faintly. “As Connell will testify, and the Parrishes and McGibbins as well, Ennis was, at his core, an Irishman, and the Irish have a tradition of celebrating a person’s life with a wake—with music, singing, and dancing.”

Cecilia glanced to right and left, meeting many gazes. “While a good half of us are English, I would ask you all to join with the Irish among us to celebrate Ennis’s life tonight. Not wildly, but with joy in our memories. As there is no one but us to view what might, in other circles, be taken as inappropriate levity, there is no barrier to us making of the evening what we choose.”

“Hear! Hear!” came from several male throats up and down the board.

“Excellent.” Cecilia managed a more convincing smile. “I’ve asked for the piano to be moved into the drawing room. Melinda and Miss Bilhurst have both agreed to play for the company. Might I suggest we adjourn there?”