“Fancy a drink?” Henry asked.
Chapter 12
Sebastian bent over the red-wool-covered billiard table. While his leather-tipped cue stick thrust toward the eight ball, he leaned forward and his tight “inexpressibles” left Chloe unable to express—anything. The floor-to-ceiling Merlot velvet draperies provided a stunning backdrop for his unruly black hair, crisp white shirt, and tanned face. “You cannot offer a servant a drink, Henry,” he said, and with a click, the eight ball sank the seven into the right corner pocket.
Chloe locked her knees to keep them from turning to white soup in her footman stockings.
Another footman unglued himself from the wall next to a flowery tapestry to pour more red wine into Henry’s and Sebastian’s depleted glasses.
Henry set his book aside, stood, and chalked his cue stick. “True. Personally, I would not want Charles to be sent packing.” He looked Chloe up and down, head to mud-splattered toe. “All for a mere moment or two of immediate gratification.”
Chloe tugged at her cravat; she must’ve tied it too tight, it suddenly seemed. She tried to clear her head, then her throat, and lowered her voice an octave or two, directing her words to Sebastian. “I most certainly do not want to be sent home, sir,” she said. “I am quite honored to be here. It is such a—stimulating—experience.” She wanted his attention, after all.
Sebastian stared at the pool table, not at her.
Henry scoped out his shot. “Have you had many similarly stimulating experiences in your young lifetime, Charles?” He looked up at her with mischief in his eye.
“This definitely ranks as one of the most stimulating.”
Henry raised an eyebrow, then made his shot. The resounding clunk reminded Chloe of her impending doom should Henry decide to rat her out.
Two balls sank in the left corner pocket. Henry wouldn’t expose her before she had a chance to apologize, would he? She’d have to pack her trunks tonight if he did. Her livery coat felt heavy.
Sebastian slid dangerously close to Chloe, reaching above her head for a tin of snuff on a high shelf. The seam of his shirtsleeves fell just below his broad shoulders and his undone cravat hung carelessly around his collarbone. “My foot hurts, for some reason or another.” He kicked his boot up onto a chair.
“Gout,” Henry said. “Too much red meat and red wine, Sebastian.”
Sebastian shot a fleeting glance at Chloe. “What is it, my boy?” He looked good even when shoving snuff up his nostril and sniffing into his sleeve.
Chloe swallowed, pushing Cook’s glasses up the bridge of her nose, careful to lower her voice to the proper level. “I have it on good authority, sir, that the item found in Miss Parker’s reticule was planted there and I vouch for her innocence. It’s not in her character to do such a thing.”
Sebastian was stalking the billiard table, hunting out his next move. “Of course we know that. We’re not taken in by the ridiculous shenanigans that must go on among those women at Bridesbridge Place.”
This was a revelation, although a bit derogatory toward the women.
Across the room, near the fire, Henry again raised his wineglass, breathed in the bouquet, and set it aside. Chloe could practically taste the wine rolling past her tongue, down her throat . . . If only she could have another drink to steel her nerves.
“Exactly what is Miss Parker’s character?” Henry asked. He walked toward her, leaned on the edge of the billiard table, and looked her straight in the eye.
No guy had ever asked her that kind of question before. A lightning bolt of fear cracked through her as Sebastian took his shot, and a ball ricocheted off the side of the table, but missed the pocket.
“Do tell, Charles,” Sebastian said. “I’d quite like to know myself.”
Henry took off his glasses, folded them, and placed them atop the mantel. “I assume you’re around her enough to know the answer.” He smiled, and for the first time, Chloe noticed a dimple on the left side of his clean-shaven cheek. And his sideburns were cut so perfectly.
She spun to face Sebastian, who was chalking his cue stick. Now was her chance to lay it all out on the neoclassical mahogany billiard table. “Miss Parker, from what I can tell, seems fabulous. She’s the living embodiment of all the best old-fashioned values.” Chloe folded her gloved hands behind her back. Candles were suspended from some kind of contraption above the billiard table, their wax dripping into the tray underneath; she noticed that the fixture didn’t provide much light, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Sebastian walked over to his empty wineglass. “I’m not sure I believe all this balderdash.”
Henry spoke from behind her. “One of those values being—honesty? Another being—loyalty to her friends?”
Chloe again pushed Cook’s glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yes and yes. She seems very honest and good to everyone around her.”
“Of course, dear Charles,” Henry said, “you’ve only just arrived at Bridesbridge. What would you know?”
Chloe sucked in her cheeks.
Sebastian held his empty wineglass out to the footman, who filled it, and almost as quickly, Sebastian drank it.
Chloe put her hand to her heart.
“Sebastian, no more wine for you,” Henry said. He slid the glass out of Sebastian’s hand. “Will that be all, Charles?”
Did Chloe just hear a shuffle in the hall? She’d better be quick. Sebastian was tipsy, and now was her chance, so she leaned in toward Henry and whispered, “Miss Parker wants to apologize to you for her harsh words during the tea party,” she blurted out. “She values your friendship very much and sincerely regrets what she said.”
Sebastian slumped into a chair.
Henry gave his brother a sidelong glance. “Sebastian’s had a rough day,” he observed.
Chloe spoke faster. “May I tell Miss Parker that you accept her apology?”
Henry was silent.
“Consider the pressure she’s been under. She’s quite a nice person and deserves a second chance.”
Henry cracked a smile. “Coming from you, Charles, that’s a very objective endorsement, and one to be taken quite seriously.”
Chloe unlocked her knees and couldn’t help but laugh.
Sebastian sank deeper in his chair, barely awake.
Henry stepped right up to Chloe and leaned on his pool cue.
Chloe wanted this kind of attention from Sebastian, not from him.
Henry smirked. “Pray tell Miss Parker I will consider her apology. I appreciate the trouble she has gone to in order to express her sentiments. She put herself quite at risk by sending you here, Charles.”
Chloe realized she’d just prioritized Henry over the money, and it shocked her almost as much as it apparently shocked him.
Henry eyed her up and down. “I have to say, though, Charles, you are the most adroit little footman I’ve ever seen. I’ll inquire if we can hire you here at Dartworth. It just so happens that I need a new valet. Would you be interested in the position?” He almost brushed his hand against her cheek.
A valet dressed—and undressed—his master. Chloe stopped herself from mentally undressing Henry right then and there.
“I’m quite happy at Bridesbridge at the moment,” she replied modestly.
“I understand. Just let me know if you change your mind,” Henry said.
As he was speaking, the doors behind him opened and a videocam crew came filing in. Henry guided Chloe toward the door. “Now, Charles, you had best get back to Bridesbridge.” He spoke so quickly, she hardly understood him. “It’s getting late. Did you ride here on horseback at this hour?”
“No, sir.” Chloe pulled on her coattails. “I walked.”
A look of astonishment and what could only be termed affection flitted across Henry’s face. “Charles. I insist you take a gig. It’s too late to walk. I’ll ring to have one readied for you.”
Chloe took a shallow bow.
“Now—run along, Charles!” Henry planted the candelabrum in her hand, propelled her into the hallway, and made a point of blocking the cameras from filming her.