Another blink. Then a soft tint of pink colored her cheeks before she gave a brief curtsy. “Not at all. Cook has everything in readiness and hopes you’ll be pleased with her efforts.”
“I’ve no doubt I will be.”
She curtsied again, then turned and strode swiftly down the hall.
Alastair remained in the doorway, watching her. Something in the angle of her head and the efficiency of her movements captured his attention, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. Before she stepped around the corner and out of sight, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Their eyes met for just an instant, but in that fleeting moment, it felt as though something sharp and unspoken passed between them.
He couldn’t define it or discern what it meant, but it caused a sudden tightening in his chest and a rush of heat to his loins. With a deepening frown, he stepped back into his room and shut the door.
He finished dressing in a distracted rush, yet somehow his mirror showed a presentable figure with a neatly tied cravat when he glanced at his reflection on the way out. He had barely ten minutes before his guests were expected, and he had a feeling Lady Katherine would ensure a prompt arrival. Though young, a bit eccentric, and somewhat unsophisticated, his cousin had a certain innate authority Alastair couldn’t help but admire.
The parlor was located at the front of the house overlooking the street and was done up in a color scheme of dark blue and evergreen. If not for the overblown style of Baroque furniture and excessive decoration the prior marquess had preferred, the atmosphere of the room might have been considered cozy. The fire had been stoked to a comfortable warmth, and crystal decanters containing a variety of spirits, from sherry to brandy to the best Scottish whisky, were neatly arranged on a sideboard.
It was not long before he heard the unmistakable sound of a carriage pulling up in front of the house. Tension stiffened his body. Taking long, heavy breaths in and out, he slowly managed to calm the rise of discomfort.
He was not a man accustomed to socializing. His childhood hadn’t included anything of the sort, and after he’d become his own man, he’d kept such things to a minimum. In his many and varied travels, he’d socialized only when necessary and rarely in an intimate setting. There were simply too few people in the world whose company he truly enjoyed.
He’d just crossed the room to stand before the fire when Gideon appeared in the doorway.
“Lady Blackwell and Mr. Hale, my lord.”
The butler’s somber tone faded away as Hale’s great hulking form crossed the threshold. Tall, broad, and packed with muscle, the man kept his long flaxen hair secured in a queue that accented his square features and intimidating scowl. In stark contrast was the smaller, much more feminine form of Alastair’s cousin. Her slim hand rested comfortably on the former fighter’s thick arm, though her dark auburn coiffure barely reached her escort’s shoulder. Despite her modest stature, there was undeniable strength in the young woman. Her life had not been one of pampering and overindulgence despite having been the daughter of a duke, and it showed.
Alastair gave a proper bow. “Welcome, Lady Katherine.”
“Thank you for the invitation, cousin.” Lady Katherine stepped forward. There was an earnest quality to her tone and a small but genuine smile on her lips. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
Alastair smiled tightly in return. “Always a pleasure, my lady.”
Her dark brown eyes warmed. “Katherine, please.” Then she turned to look up at her escort. “You remember Mr. Hale, of course.”
“Of course. Welcome, Mr. Hale,” he said simply with a nod to the brute beside her.
“Hm.”
The short grunt was all the man offered in response.
“Please have a seat,” he said stiffly, gesturing toward the furniture arrangement set up before the fire. “Would either of you like a drink while we wait to be called in for dinner?”
“A claret would be lovely,” his cousin replied.
Alastair nodded then glanced to Hale with a lifted brow.
“Nothing for me.”
Hale’s refusal didn’t surprise him. The man had avoided spirits the night Alastair attended dinner at his cousin’s home, as well.
Lady Katherine took a seat on one of the settees, and Hale claimed the spot beside her. His feet were braced wide, and his hands were splayed on his thighs as he watched Alastair with a sharp eye.
Alastair claimed one of the chairs with his back to the fire and rested his snifter of brandy on his knee. Looking to his cousin, he lifted a brow. “I trust His Grace is doing well?”
She smiled. “He is. Frederick is exceptionally resilient.”
Alastair had surmised that the young Duke of Northmoor was significantly more than that. If the fact that Shelbourne had needed the boy’s cooperation in finishing the scientific work his father had refused to complete hadn’t suggested the boy’s intellectual superiority, his meeting with the boy after Lady Katherine’s ordeal had proven to him that the duke was in possession of exceptional intelligence and a level of insight and maturity beyond his twelve years.
“That’s good to hear.” His gaze flickered to Hale’s dark countenance before returning to Lady Katherine. “I presume you and your brother have not received any further threats since Shelbourne’s death?”
“We have not. It seems you may have been correct in believing his actions toward my family were unknown to others.” She tossed a grateful smile to Hale. “Besides, with my father’s scientific journals retrieved and destroyed, there is no further possibility of anyone replicating his work.”