It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(27)

After the rituals of port for the men, tea for the ladies, and a last few rounds of idle conversation, the guests dispersed. As Marcus walked slowly to the great hall with a group of guests that included the Hunts, he became aware that Annabelle was behaving a bit strangely. She walked so close to him that their elbows kept bumping, and she fanned herself enthusiastically even though the interior of the manor was quite cool. Squinting at her quizzically through the great puffs of scented air that she blew his way, Marcus asked, “Is it too warm in here for you, Mrs. Hunt?”

“Why, yes …do you feel warm too?”

“No.” He smiled down at her, wondering why Annabelle abruptly stopped fanning and gave him a speculative gaze.

“Do you feel anything?” she asked.

Amused, Marcus shook his head. “May I ask what prompts your concern, Mrs. Hunt?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just wondered if perhaps you might have noticed something different about me.”

Marcus gave her a quick, impersonal inspection. “Your coiffure,” he guessed. Having grown up with two sisters, he had learned that whenever they asked his opinion on their appearance, and refused to tell him why, it usually had something to do with their hairstyle. Though it was a bit inappropriate to discuss the personal appearance of his best friend’s wife, Annabelle seemed to regard him in a brotherly light.

Annabelle grinned ruefully at his reply. “Yes, that’s it. Forgive me if I am behaving a bit oddly, my lord. I fear I may have had a bit too much wine.”

Marcus laughed quietly. “Perhaps some night air will clear your head.”

Coming beside them, Simon Hunt caught the last remark, and he settled his hand at his wife’s waist. Smiling, he touched his lips to Annabelle’s temple. “Shall I take you out to the back terrace?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Hunt went still, his dark head inclined toward hers. Although Annabelle couldn’t see the arrested expression on her husband’s face, Marcus noticed it, and wondered why Hunt suddenly looked so uncomfortable and distracted. “Excuse us, Westcliff,” Hunt muttered, and pulled his wife away with unwarranted haste, forcing her to hurry to keep up with his ground-eating strides.

Shaking his head with a touch of bafflement, Marcus watched the pair’s precipitate exit from the entrance hall.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Daisy said glumly, wandering from the dining hall with Lillian and Evie. “I was seated between two gentlemen who couldn’t have taken less interest in me. Either the perfume is a sham, or both of them are anosmic.”

Evie gave her a blank look. “I…I’m afraid I’m not f-familiar with that word…”

“You would be if your father owned a soap company,” Lillian said dryly. “It means that one has no sense of smell.”

“Oh. Then my dinner p-partners must also have been anosmic. Because neither of them noticed me either. What about you, Lillian?”

“The same,” Lillian replied, feeling both confounded and frustrated. “I suppose the perfume doesn’t work after all. But I was so certain that it had an effect on Lord Westcliff…”

“Had you ever stood so close to him before?” Daisy asked.

“Of course not!”

“Then my guess is that simple proximity to you made him lose his head.”

“Oh, well, obviously,” Lillian said with self-deprecating sarcasm. “I’m a world-renowned temptress.”

Daisy laughed. “I wouldn’t discount your charms, dear. In my opinion, Lord Westcliff has always—”

But that particular opinion would forever go unheard, for as they reached the entrance hall, the three girls caught sight of Lord Westcliff himself. Leaning one shoulder against a column in a relaxed pose, he cut a commanding figure. Everything about him, from the arrogant tilt of his head to the physical confidence of his posture, bespoke the result of generations of aristocratic breeding. Lillian experienced an overpowering urge to sneak up to him and poke him in some ticklish place. She would have loved to make him roar with annoyance.

His head turned, and his gaze swept the three girls with polite interest before settling on Lillian. Then the look in his eyes became far less polite, and the interest took on a vaguely predatory quality that caused Lillian’s breath to catch. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of the hard-muscled body that was concealed beneath the impeccably tailored black broadcloth suit.

“He’s t-terrifying,” she heard Evie breathe, and Lillian glanced at her with sudden amusement.

“He’s just a man, dear. I’m sure he orders his servants to help him put his trousers on one leg at a time, like everyone else.”

Daisy laughed at her irreverence, while Evie looked scandalized.

To Lillian’s surprise, Westcliff pushed away from the column and approached them. “Good evening, ladies. I hope you enjoyed the supper.”

Tongue-tied, Evie could only nod, while Daisy responded animatedly, “It was splendid, my lord.”

“Good.” Although he spoke to Evie and Daisy, his gaze locked on to Lillian’s face. “Miss Bowman, Miss Jenner…forgive me, but I had hoped to take your companion aside for a word in private. With your permission…”

“By all means,” Daisy replied, giving Lillian a sly smile. “Take her away, my lord. We have no use for her at the moment.”