Page 58 of My Wicked Earl
St. Remy. Thecrux,it appeared, of the situation.
Donata drummed her fingertips against the fine linen that covered the table.
“Rainha, what are you about?” Sutton, seated just to her left at the head of the table, leaned over and whispered. “I can almost hear your scheming.”
“Whatever do you mean, my lord?” She wrinkled her brow as if confused by his statement and sliced the pheasant on her plate into tiny bite-sized portions. Donata found that as one got older it became increasinglyeasierto pretend one was addled. “And you must cease referring to me asRainha.Our guests may not understand the Portuguese word for queen and will assume you are calling me an awful name in a foreign tongue. Some might think you are making fun of an old woman.”
The ghost of a smile crossed her grandson’s lips. For a moment, he looked so much like his father, her beloved son Robert, that Donata’s breath caught. How fortunate that the Duke of Dunbar had assisted her in bringing Sutton back from Macao. If Sutton hadn’t returned…well it didn’t matter. Suttonhadreturned. And, now she had dear Alex and those adorable children.You would have scolded me for meddling as well, Robert, but you see, it has all worked out for the best.
“Do not think I am ignorant of what goes on at my own estate,Rainha.”
“Of course not, my lord,” she murmured, as she popped a piece of pheasant in her mouth.
Dry. The pheasant wasdry. Reminiscent of overly seasoned parchment.
Sutton snorted in amusement, glancing down the length of the table to catch his wife’s eye. “Subservience does not suit you, nor is it believable.”
Alex was holding court at the other end of the table, laughing as Lord Welles entertained her. Carstairs was dutifully chewing his food and nodding as Welles spoke. The poor boy looked completely lost.
Not an intelligent thought in his head. Just like his mother.
Alex’s eyes caught Donata’s, and she tilted her head slightly before turning her attention to back to Lord Welles.
“And you’ve involved Alex,” Sutton hissed under his breath while waving for more wine.
“Goodness, my lord, you make me sound rather Machiavellian. I assure you that all I have done is arrange a house party so that your sister and your dearest friend may make suitable matches.” Donata took the opportunity to glance down the length of the table.
Colin appeared to be strangling his napkin while glaring at Lord Ridley, probably imagining the napkin was the viscount’s neck.
Splendid.
Donata did wonder if she should worry over Ridley’s welfare as the Earl of Kilmaire looked quite intent on doing the viscount bodily harm. There was also the matter of a rather large blade Donata knew Colin carried on his person. He never went anywhere without the weapon. Ironic considering what a knife had done to his face. Ridley would do well to give the Earl of Kilmaire a wide berth.
Or not.I cannot wait until that man has served his purpose and we can be rid of his presence.Donata speared another piece of pheasant.
Ridley had been assessing the value of Gray Covington and its contents from the moment he arrived. Just before dinner, she could see the greed gleaming from his eyes as he mentally tallied up the wealth he assumed he would soon have access too. Donata had the inclination to hide some of the more valuable works of art least Ridley try to abscond with them in his saddlebags when he departed. She would need to have Zander watch Ridley very carefully, for the young man was desperate. That much was apparent.
Hamill looked in vain amongst the ton for a brood mare. The former rake had affairs with many of the older ladies whose daughters he now attempted to court. Hamill was politely refused by them all. Then Miranda, with her unsuitability, landed in his lap. Donata had no doubt Hamill would use his influence at Parliament to staunch some of the gossip concerning her granddaughter, but she doubted he would stop the flow altogether.Certainlynot enough to merit wedding him.
Lady Cottingham was terribly uninteresting. Donata continued to ignore the prattling woman on her right who would do better to rein in her daughter than bore Donata.
She placed her fork down.Atrocious.Zandermustbe told about dinner. Mushy, overcooked potatoes. Dry pheasant. Only the sauce for the turbot had been acceptable. The meal was well below the usual standards of Gray Covington.
She doubted anyone invited to this house party, save Lady Dobson, would realize such.
Donata found the whole of it verysatisfactory.
“Lord Ridley,” she said down the table to the dandy, I’m so happy you could join us.”
13
Dinner,thankfully,was finally over.
Colin now knew the meaning of Hell. Hell was listening to Lady Helen drone on about the specific migration habits of something called a blue cockerel all the while batting him in the face with a feather she’d decorated herself with. He was so annoyed that he said nothing when the tip of the feather skimmed across the top of her soup.
The Dowager regarded Lady Cottingham with dismay, her lips pursed as if she were sucking on a lemon.
The Harpy, whom most of thetonreferred to as Lady Dobson, recited all of Miss Lainscott’s accomplishments to Colin, pausing only to sip her wine with delicate precision. She had waved her fork around in circles, thrusting it towards Colin when she felt the need to emphasize her point. Which was often. He should be grateful she hadn’t carved up his other cheek.
