Roz actually flinches under my look. Then she tilts her head pointedly toward the offending guard. He, looking completely confused, switches places with her.
I slide my sunglasses back on, facing the host with a perfectly pleased smile in place. “Not a concern. I see my friend Isla.”
I don’t wait for her to recover. She can do that far easier without me standing in front of her. I stride around the lectern, sliding my hand down Christoph’s arm until I’m holding his hand. He keeps pace with me unquestioningly.
The other patrons start removing their napkins from their laps, trying to hastily rise from their seats.
“Please,” I say pleasantly, but projecting my voice through the room. “Don’t let me disturb your lunch.”
Most of the patrons settle back into their chairs. A whisper of conversations start behind us as we pass.
Isla remains standing, with Noah rising to her side as I near. Lots of questions about who Christoph is float around us, but the duke at my side doesn’t acknowledge any of them. His expression is once again forbiddingly inscrutable.
One of the staff attempts to dart ahead to pull out a chair for me, only to be deftly intercepted and redirected by Roz — no snapping needed. Christoph pulls the chair out for me instead.
I pause to smile at Isla, then Noah. “Thank you for accommodating me.”
Noah just flashes me a saucy grin, but Isla clasps her hands tightly. “We were so pleased that you even wanted to see us …” Her gaze flicks to Christoph, but she quashes the question she obviously wants to ask.
“It’s never a problem to ditch the oldies,” Noah drawls, his accent still flavored by that hint of non-European French. The light gray of his suit brings out the awry purple in his dark-blue eyes.
“Father wasn’t planning on attending anyway,” Isla says.
“I imagine not,” Christoph mutters under his breath, pressing a hand to the small of my back to encourage me to sit down.
Isla hesitates at the comment, then ignores it. “Though if we’d known one of your horses was racing, Mirth, all of us would have happily attended. It was just announced.”
I slide into my seat. Christoph steps around me and takes the chair between me and Noah. Isla and the other awry both sit as well.
“Perseus,” Noah says. “That’s the magnificent beast you were riding the other day, yes?”
“Armin’s newest horse,” I say. The pinch of pain that accompanies the mention of my brother is just a tiny touchof agony today. “It’s the first race for the new … team.” Not proudly mentioning, acknowledging, Rian is a different sort of discomfort. “We wish them well, of course.”
“Of course,” Isla murmurs, smoothing her napkin over her lap.
Servers step in around us in a flash, filling the tall crystal tumblers with water and setting champagne down for Christoph and me.
“I ordered ahead,” Isla says. “As your guard prefers.”
“Thank you.”
An amuse-bouche is placed in front of the four of us, the servers’ moves coordinated and swift. They withdraw the moment the plate settles before me. The bite-sized appetizer appears to be tiny cubes of seared ahi tuna arranged on a single leaf of Belgian endive.
Isla plucks up her knife and fork, opening her mouth to continue the conversation.
Christoph scoops up the amuse-bouche with his fingers and pops the entire thing in his mouth, barely chewing and quickly swallowing. Then he flashes me a grin and holds his hand out for my plate.
Isla’s mouth drops open, her eyes wide and aghast.
If that shocks her, then this conversation isn’t going to go at all smoothly.
I pass my plate to Christoph. He eats the second amuse-bouche, then drops the fine china onto his empty plate.
Noah is struggling not to smile. Though when his gaze settles on Isla, it becomes somewhat wary. The Merton heir appears to be slowly melting down internally.
Isla’s nostrils flare as anger and frustration overtake her manners. “I selected that dish based on Her Highness’s preferences. You cannot —”
Christoph interrupts smoothly. “Mirth doesn’t eat in public.” He flicks his golden eyes between Isla and Noah. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
