Page 38 of To Bed the Bride
Annoying man.
“I understand you’ve recently returned from Abyssinia,” Hamilton said.
She sensed Logan’s instantaneous reaction. How foolish. Yet she knew, somehow, that he was wishing that the conversation would take a more comfortable turn.
“Yes,” he said. Just that and no more.
The terseness of his response would have been a signal to anyone not to continue that line of questioning, but Hamilton had never been intuitive or even mildly aware.
“I understand the campaign was a success. Good thing we beat the barbarians back.”
Logan put down his fork and sat back in his chair.
She didn’t know how she knew, but the next words out of Logan’s mouth would not be suitable for the dinner table. He was going to spear Hamilton with a few well-chosen words. Or he was going to regale the entire table with details too ghastly even for nightmares.
“I’ve recently returned from Scotland,” she said brightly, holding up her glass of wine. “Have you recently traveled to Scotland, Mr. McKnight?”
He looked at her for a long moment. Perhaps he could read the pleading in her eyes. Or maybe rational thought broke through the fog of his anger.
“Indeed I have, Miss Craig. I was taking a sabbatical in the Highlands.”
“Truly?”
She gripped her wineglass too tightly, wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake by mentioning Scotland. Was he about to divulge everything, including their kiss? Daphne looked entirely too interested in their conversation and Michael was frowning.
“It’s a backward country,” Michael said.
Eleanor nearly closed her eyes and moaned aloud. The very last thing she needed was for Michael to toss hot coals onto a dry bale of hay.
Logan leaned forward, addressing Michael. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Evidently, he could be a politician after all.
“Of course Scotland isn’t a backward country, Michael,” she said. “In fact, I would be willing to wager that we’ve given the world more inventions and discoveries, not to mention advances in medicine and science, than England or the rest of the Commonwealth.”
Michael looked surprised at her comment, as did the rest of the people at the table. The only person who was smiling was Logan.
As she sat back, allowing a servant to replace her fish course, she realized that Logan had done it to her again.
Chapter Sixteen
Unfortunately, the end of dinner didn’t mean the end of the evening. The gentlemen did adjourn, leaving Aunt Deborah, Daphne, and Eleanor to go to the drawing room. As usual, Daphne played the piano. Her cousin was accomplished in a great many things. She could paint as well, and several of her landscapes adorned the walls of the townhouse. She also sang beautifully and had often entertained guests.
Eleanor could stumble through a selection of tunes, but she couldn’t sing. Nor did she recite poetry with any great skill. Her talents were those things that had no place in the drawing room. She could ride like the wind, since she’d been on horseback nearly before she could walk. She could run a household, and make bread, scones, and a selection of biscuits whose recipes she’d learned from Hearthmere’s cook. In addition, she was a prodigious reader, having educated herself by beginning at the first bookshelf in Hearthmere’s library and continuing on. She was currently at thePsection and was determined to finish the entirety of the library one day.
None of those skills seemed to have a place in the life she led right now. Nor would they in her future.
The gentlemen were, no doubt, involved in interesting discussions while she was pacing the drawing room.
What a pity that she couldn’t participate in those conversations, but she was not supposed to know anything about what went on at Parliament. She would wager that she was as well informed as any man, with the exception of Logan perhaps. Yet because she was a woman, she was expected to only want to discuss housekeeping matters or fashion. The only exceptions to those topics were children and sometimes a man’s peccadilloes.
Michael was never a subject during the all-female sessions in the drawing room. Nor, she suspected, would Logan ever be. There was something about both men that prevented them from being an object of gentle teasing. In Michael’s case it was his title. With Logan it was the way he carried himself, as if he and the world had come to an agreement of sorts. It had already taken his measure and not found him wanting.
Thomas, however, was an endless source of ridicule, the comments initiated by his wife. Daphne had a razor-like wit and didn’t hesitate to use it on anyone. Nor was Hamilton exempt. Despite the fact that he’d welcomed Deborah’s family and was exceedingly generous to all of them, he was regularly lampooned by both women for one thing or another.
Eleanor was certain that she was the subject of ridicule the minute she was away from her aunt and cousin.
It was much harder, on the whole, to find things about each person to celebrate than it was to discover flaws or failings. Just as it was easier to be sad about a circumstance than it was to force yourself to look for something good in every situation.
