‘No,’ she said with a faint sigh. ‘I am perfectly well. I shall come down to dinner.’
‘In that case, you’d better get up,’ Millie observed, ‘for Mrs. Fumble has postponed serving but she says the roast lamb won’t wait forever.’
‘Oh well then,’ Audrey murmured, throwing the coverlet to one side. ‘We had best not keep her waiting.’
Besides, she reflected, waiting would surely be a mistake for it could only make what was to come so much worse. She knew she would be perfectly safe, from herself as much as Kirkwood, for her family was with her and if that was not an antidote for passion, nothing would be. She paused before the mirror. It was of poor quality, the surface rippling slightly but she peered into it anyway, fixing her hair and anxiously studying her face. She wished she could change into something a little more elegant but there was no time. Instead, she shook out her skirts and descended the stairs with her mother and sisters, breathing deeply while her heart thundered in anticipation.
They walked into an atmosphere so redolent with tension that Audrey wavered on the threshold of the small dining room. All four of them wavered for a moment, even Millie, for it seemed the air itself felt as brittle as the ice that had formed delicate stalactites beneath the window overhangs outside. One glance told Audrey what was amiss; Lady Allingham was standing rigid before the fireplace, her entire body all but quivering with suppressed fury as she glared at Kirkwood, who seemed indifferent to her fury. In fact, if his demeanor was anything to go by, he seemed positively bored. He lolled against the wall by the window, one hand stuck negligently in his pocket, an expression of sardonic amusement on his face. Harry was sitting at the table, Lady Fielding sitting opposite him. Their faces were carefully blank, a sure indication that all was not going well. Lord Allingham was on his feet, eyes moving between his mother and his half-brother. His mouth was tight and, if his body language was any indication, Audrey deduced that he was profoundly exasperated.
‘I hope we have not held dinner up for too long,’ Lady Hathaway said easily, sensibly electing to ignore the aura of fraught emotion that permeated the room.
Kirkwood looked around quickly, his expression flattening out into one of studied emptiness. Audrey met his eyes and a shiver of awareness ran through her. It was impossible to read anything of great import in that fathomless black stare, but a tingle of something both delicious and dangerous shivered through her. Hastily, she dropped her eyes and concentrated on not falling over her own feet. Collapsing in a heap twice in one evening would be more than awkward.
‘Miss Hathaway,’ Lady Fielding said, rising to her feet and focusing on her with obvious relief. ‘Mr. Carstairs told us that you fainted. Are you feeling all right?’
Audrey forced a smile, ignoring the little voice inside her that insisted she pay attention to a far more important matter. Kirkwood was here. Kirkwood was here. Even now, standing in the same room as him, it hardly seemed possible. ‘Indeed, I am perfectly well now, thank you. I cannot think what came over me. Tiredness, I expect.’
Lady Fielding nodded, as if it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world for a healthy young woman to keel over from tiredness. Perhaps it was, when one was the daughter of a duke.
‘You gave us quite a turn,’ Harry observed wryly, rising to his feet.
‘I am sorry,’ Audrey murmured, taking the first chair that she came to at the table. She gave a sideways glance at Lady Allingham who, after a final fulminating look at Kirkwood, flounced forward to take her own seat at the table.
‘I cannot believe that you are set on being so disobliging, Sir!’ the woman snapped, obviously keen to continue whatever conversation had been taking place before they had entered the room. ‘While I am perfectly aware that you have no desire to oblige me -’
‘You are quite right,’ Kirkwood agreed mildly, moving across to sit next to Audrey. ‘I have absolutely no interest in obliging you, madam.’
Color rose in Lady Allingham’s cheeks and her blue eyes flashed. It suited her, Audrey thought distractedly, horribly aware of the man sitting next to her. Anger put some much -needed fire on Judith Allingham’s smooth coating of ice.
‘I insist you leave this house at once!’ she snapped.
Kirkwood raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you suddenly become the proprietress of a tavern, my dear Judith? Because, unless you have actually purchased this establishment, I am inclined to think you have no right to cast me out of it.’
The breath hissed out of her. ‘If you had even a shred of decency you would leave immediately!’
Kirkwood shrugged, a gesture redolent with mocking insolence. ‘But as you have pointed out, on innumerable occasions, I have none so this is a pointless conversation. Roddy,’ he added, voice bored. ‘Are you going to introduce me to you fiancée or not?’
Allingham, taken aback at finding himself abruptly addressed, flushed a little. ‘Why… why yes, certainly. Beth, this is Darius Kirkwood. Kirkwood, my fiancée, Lady Elizabeth Fielding.’
Kirkwood half rose from his chair and gave a half bow. ‘A pleasure, my dear Lady Fielding.’
‘Mr. Kirkwood,’ Beth murmured. There was an inquisitive look in her eyes. Now that Audrey had an opportunity to look at her properly she saw that the girl appeared much more the thing since her rest. Perhaps she really had been in need of sleep and was recovered now. She certainly seemed a deal more animated and clearly, she was wondering about the association between the two men, Audrey reflected. Lord Allingham must not have mentioned the existence of his half-brother, although she probably already knew of the connection. Most people seemed to know of it.
‘Do not think to address yourself to my son or his fiancée,’ Lady Allingham said sharply. ‘You have no association with this family.’
‘Is that so?’ Kirkwood switched his enigmatic gaze to Allingham, who flushed again.
‘Mr. Kirkwood is my half-brother,’ he told Beth, an edge to his voice. ‘Mother, I think it would be best if we all try to enjoy our meal and speak of other things. This is hardly the time to be dwelling on our family business.’ He gave Lady Hathaway and her three daughters an apologetic glance. ‘Lady Hathaway, forgive our manners. We are behaving very badly.’ His mother flushed again, looking furious. She was obviously not used to committing social solecisms and resented having an audience.
‘Not at all,’ Eliza Hathaway gave a reassuring smile, just as the door was bumped open by Mrs. Fumble’s rounded hip. She was carrying several platters, which she set down on the table and her husband, who had followed her in, set down several more. Several trips back and forth ensued and before long the guests at The Drunken Maiden found themselves with a very creditable meal before them.
‘How wonderful of you to have managed so much with so little warning,’ Lady Hathaway told her hostess warmly. ‘We count ourselves very fortunate to have come across such a welcoming place.’
Audrey was studying her soup bowl, too nervous to look to her left. It was ridiculous of course. If she were going to stare at her meal without looking up then she might as well have stayed in the bedchamber. But she had not expected him to be quite so close. She caught a hint of his scent, that same one that she had inhaled when he had held her in his arms and it brought back memories that were left for another time; arms wound about her tightly, lips warm and insistent and the feel of his arousal pressed firmly against her… Heat warmed her cheeks and she clenched her hands in her lap, causing her nails to bite into the soft palms. It was a welcome distraction.
‘Miss Hathaway,’ he murmured, ‘May I offer you some bread?’