Though what he had to be angry about, she didn't know.
True, Starberry was no longer her concern, but she couldn't help but notice how well the staff had followed her directions regarding the table setting. Lush white peonies in low baskets graced the middle of the table, and the linens-she had bought three different settings-were slate-blue Japanese silk brocade that accented the gray-green walls.
She slid her fingers from Vander's arm as he pulled out a chair for Adelaide, and in the second before he turned back to her, Thorn appeared at her side and said, "You're sitting beside me."
He whisked her around the table so that she was opposite Vander. "That was extremely impolite, even for you," India observed when he sat down between Lala and herself.
"In truth I am showing my first signs of civilized behavior," Thorn said. "If that bodice falls off your milky way, I shall throw my napkin over you before Vander ogles you even more than he already is."
"He is not ogling me!" India hissed.
"Bosh," Thorn retorted. "He's eating you alive and you're oblivious."
"There's no call for you to-" India began, but then she realized that the duke, seated at her right hand, was listening with apparent interest. "Please forgive me, Your Grace," she said, turning her shoulder to Thorn.
"I too find my son to be extremely irritating," the duke said. "I have nothing but sympathy. Do tell me, Lady Xenobia, who painted the swallows on the walls?"
During the meal India talked primarily with the duke and also with Vander, who completely ignored the protocol that dictated one should not speak across a table. They began by talking of Italian painters, but quickly turned to the duke's new silk top hat.
"I was hoping to cause a riot by wearing it in public," he said in a disappointed tone. "But not even one woman fainted."
"Am I to infer, Your Grace," India asked, enjoying herself enormously, "that your attire regularly causes loss of consciousness?"
Eleanor clapped her hands, and it turned out that Vander had a most appealing laugh, low and husky.
"You injure me, my dear," the duke protested. "Not long ago, John Hetherington wore a top hat and caused a riot. He was fined five hundred pounds for creating a public disturbance. I wore a similar top hat to the opera a mere six months after his, and not even a dog barked at me."
"London is used to you being in the very forefront of fashion," his wife said soothingly, but there was a twinkle in her eye.
"I grow old, I grow old," the duke said, not mournfully. "Soon I shall wear flannel waistcoats and my trousers rolled, and all this elegance will be naught more than a distant memory."
India laughed at that, as did Eleanor, both of them perfectly well aware that when the duke was laid to rest-hopefully many years from now-he would be the best-dressed corpse in all England.
"Do you own a top hat, Lord Brody?"
"I'm decidedly not in the forefront of fashion," he said, grinning at her.
"I suppose we're lucky that you're even wearing a cravat," the duke said. "The younger generation takes no pride in their appearance."
"I'm properly dressed," Vander protested. But anyone could tell by looking at him that he wouldn't be caught dead wearing lace cuffs like those peeping from the duke's velvet sleeves.
After that, the conversation wandered, from the new smallpox vaccine, to the new book of poetry called the Lyrical Ballads that the duke declared to be audacious, shocking, and ultimately tedious. The duke's dry witticisms and Vander's sardonic parries kept making the three of them break into laughter.
Thorn, Adelaide, and Lala, on the other hand, were engaged in a serious discussion of childhood mortality in the countryside. India found it a particularly unhappy topic, because two years ago she had spent a month with Lady Brestle, who was experiencing a difficult confinement. Alas, she'd lost the child.
India had been the one to order the coffin-a box so tiny that it was painful to think about. She removed the rough cambric the village carpenter used to line it, and replaced it with the finest azure silk she could find, because that was the color of the family's crest.
She did not want to think about that baby. Instead, she wanted to flirt with Lord Brody under her lashes and look speculatively at his shoulders, and wonder whether he kissed the way Thorn did.
She suspected that no one kissed the way Thorn did, not with his roughness and heat . . . but if any gentleman did, she thought Vander might be that gentleman. Perhaps she would kiss him tonight, and then she would have grounds for comparison. With that thought, she gave him a smile that made him raise an eyebrow and then give her a surprisingly attractive, rather crooked, smile in return.
When dinner concluded, the ladies retired to the sitting room for tea and the men took themselves off to the library for brandy. India listened to Adelaide's chatter for a short time, before excusing herself. She wanted to drop by the dower house, just to make certain that Rose was comfortable and happy.
In the entry she told Fleming that she'd like the pony cart in order to drive herself to the dower house for a visit. As she pulled on her gloves, Lord Brody walked out of the library.
"That was a quick brandy," she observed.
"Thorn deserted us-characteristically rudely, without explanation-and the duke began a game of chess with himself, a pursuit that is profoundly tedious to watch. Where on earth are you going at this hour, Lady Xenobia?"
"I mean to take the pony cart for a turn around the estate."
"Excellent! I shall join you. Fleming, my coat, if you would."
A minute later, despite India's protests, they were sitting side by side in the cart. She tried one final desperate appeal. "Lord Brody, I fail to see why you are accompanying me. This is not entirely proper."
"We are in the country, not town. And no lady will venture alone into the darkness while I am here," he said, as the groom standing at the pony's head stood back. "Fleming didn't like it. One must always listen to the butler; it's the fundamental rule of polite society."
Fleming had gently made his disapproval clear.
"Thorn wouldn't like it either," he added as they began to head toward the dower house.
"That is irrelevant," she said, turning her nose up slightly. "Mr. Dautry takes advantage of our long acquaintance. I begin to think he is a bully."
At that, Vander gave a shout of laughter. "You begin to think? Thorn gets his way. Always. He's been that way since our first term at Eton, when he was the only one I couldn't thrash."
"Men are quite odd," India said, thinking about that.
"We've had each other's backs ever since," he said, glancing down at her. "Where would you like to go, Lady Xenobia? And may I say that if you are planning to visit Miss Rose, I would like to meet Thorn's ward. I know his secret."
"It was my idea to house the child apart from the party," India confessed, "but I feel terrible about the necessity."
"If I were Thorn, I would tell the woman to go to-" He checked himself. "To keep her opinions to herself."
"If he were to do that, he wouldn't be able to marry Lala," she told him. "He told me that she's perfect for him. And he meant it." She glanced at Vander. "Lala is not as unintelligent as most people think, and Thorn recognizes that."
"Indeed?"
"She's very sweet," India went on, although it was oddly painful to admit it. "I believe they'll have an excellent marriage."
"You do?"
"Thorn pretends to be cynical, but I believe he's infatuated," she said. "It's very romantic."
"I must be losing my touch," Vander said rather obscurely, giving her a grin that made his teeth flash in the growing dusk. "You become suspicious in the horse racing world, you know. You stop thinking that people might actually mean what they say."
She touched his hand. "Can you take the path to the right, please? We're almost at the dower house. If you're referring to Thorn, it's my impression that he wouldn't bother lying to anyone."
The smile in his eyes made her squirm a little, and she had the odd feeling that he knew it.
The pony cart drew up to the dower house and Vander jumped down, reins in hand. As he fastened them to the hitching post, Thorn pushed open the front door.
"We came to say good-night to Rose," India called.