"Six," said Chloe, sotto voce.
"I beg your pardon, Chloe dear?"
"I said they were delicious," Chloe said with a sweet smile. "And the syllabubs also. You seemed to enjoy those equally, my dear ma'am."
"Oh, yes, indeed. I was forgetting the syllabubs." Lady Smallwood sighed with pleasure. "How could I have forgotten the syllabubs."
"Very easily, with everything else one was obliged to sample," Chloe said, still smiling sweetly.
"Oh, yes, there was so much to choose from. Some people consider such varied choice to be a little vulgar, but I'm not one of them."
"No," Chloe agreed.
"I do believe it shows respect for one's guests to set a good table for them."
'Tes, I'm sure you're right, Dolly." Hugo spoke up before Chloe could continue with her wicked asides. "I'm glad you were tolerably amused."
"Well, as you know, I'm not a great one for socializing… not since my dear Smallwood passed on," Lady Smallwood said with a sigh. "But I said I'd do my best for the child, and I will. You won't find me shirking my duties." She waddled toward the stairs. "Now, if you'll
excuse me, I'll retire. Come along, Chloe. You don't want to be fagged tomorrow. You'll lose your looks if you're peaky… and that would never do."
"But I'm not in the least fatigued, ma'am."
"Lady Smallwood knows best, lass," Hugo said earnestly. "Think how humiliating it would be to see your success slip away from you before you've had a chance to savor it."
Chloe put her tongue out at him but followed her chaperone's mountainous figure up the stairs.
Hugo grinned and shook his head. "What an evening! I foresee we're going to be inundated with bewitched young men in the next weeks, Samuel. You couldn't get near the lass from the minute she walked into the room."
"It's to be 'oped that duenna of 'er's doesn't cotton to the fun she makes of 'er," Samuel said. "I'm 'ard pressed to keep a straight face most o' the time. Right wicked, she is."
"I know, but it is irresistible." Hugo followed Samuel through the swinging door to the kitchen. "I'll put a curb on her if she gets too outrageous." He sat down beside the fire and stretched out his legs, examining his satin knee britches with a frown. "Lord, Samuel, I never expected to be dressing like this again, dancing attendance on vapid ladies at insipid gatherings."
"That Lady Carrington seems a fine woman," Samuel observed, setting a mug of tea beside Hugo.
"Oh, she is," Hugo agreed. "Actually, it wasn't that bad. It's just that I thought I was done with all that nonsense. Instead…" He sighed.
Samuel laced his own tea with rum and sat down opposite. "Get her married and off yer 'ands an' we can get back to Denholm."
"That's the object of this exercise," Hugo said dryly,
sipping his tea. A kitten jumped onto his lap, knocking his hand. Tea slurped over his white waistcoat.
"Damnation!" He glared at the kitten, who merely settled purring into his lap. "Which one is this?"
Samuel shrugged. "No idea. Couldn't pronounce it if n I did know."
Hugo laughed reluctantly. "I suspect it's Ariadne, but I wouldn't swear to it." He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
Samuel smiled to himself and sipped his tea. It was a nightly ritual, the time they had together in the kitchen, no longer the domain of the churlish Alphonse, whose running battles with Chloe over the animals' nutritional needs caused daily upheavals.
Samuel subjected his friend to a close covert scrutiny. Hugo, for all his vociferous dislike of Society's round, looked younger and fitter than at any time since he came ashore at the end of the war.
But Samuel suspected that trouble lurked around the next corner. Hugo was happy. Whatever feelings he held for his youthful ward, they gave him deep pleasure. But beneath it lay the knowledge, the certainty, that it could only be temporary. Once Chloe had gone from his life, would he go back to the wasteland?
Samuel knew that Hugo's strength grew with each successive day that he triumphed over his addiction. Sometimes the old sailor prayed that the relationship would continue for as long as possible, and then he thought that the sooner the end came, the better. The longer it lasted, the harder it would be to break the chains that bound him to the girl.
Hugo put down his cup and yawned. "I'm for bed." He picked up the kitten, holding it aloft in one hand. "No," he said, squinting, "definitely not Ariadne. You must be Aeneas." He set the creature on the floor. "Go
back to mama." The kitten merely set to grooming itself with leisurely grace.
Hugo laughed and stood up. "Good night, Samuel."
" 'Night, Sir "Ugo."
Half an hour later, Hugo was in bed, when his door opened stealthily and a bright head popped itself around the corner, a pair of cornflower-blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, good, you're not asleep."
Hugo put down his book. "No, having become accustomed to your habits, I was waiting for you. Are you going to bring the rest of you in here?"
Chloe slid into the room, closing the door behind her with exaggerated care, one finger to her lips. "Mustn't wake Milady Smallwood from her dreams of syllabub."
"You are a disrespectful wretch! Have you no respect for your elders and betters?"
"I do if they are my betters," she responded. "But I fail to see why simple age should qualify for uncritical submission."
She pulled her nightgown over her head, tossing it over a footstool, then walked over to the cheval glass and stood in front of it, examining her image with a tiny frown.
She was completely without inhibition, Hugo thought, not for the first time, as he enjoyed vicariously her own examination of her body. She lifted her breasts, touched her nipples, turned sideways, running a hand over her flat stomach, scrutinized her back view over her shoulder.
"What are you looking at, lass? Or is it for?" he asked, a quiver of desirous amusement in his voice.
"Well, I've never looked at myself before," she said seriously. "I think I have quite an elegant figure, don't you?"
"You'll pass."
"Is that all?" She extended one leg, flexing her ankle.
"All those men tonight seemed to think it was more than that."
"Samuel's right-you are going to get a swollen head."
Chloe ignored this. "And they only saw my face," she mused, peering closely at her features in the mirror.
"Only half the story," Hugo agreed, wondering where this was leading. "But in my character as strict guardian, I have to tell you, lass, that it's most improper to speculate on the effect your naked body might have on prospective suitors."
Chloe ignored this too. She turned back to him. "Do you find me attractive?"
"I'd have thought I'd made that clear by now."
"Yes, but I was the only woman around," she pointed out. "You didn't have anyone to compare me with in Lancashire."
"What the hell are you getting at, Chloe?" It occurred to him that amusement was not going to be the appropriate response to whatever this was.
"Nothing really." She stood, frowning down at the threadbare carpet. Hugo's renovations had been strictly limited to the public rooms of his house, and his household staff was at the barest socially acceptable minimum.
"Out with it, lass."
"You find Lady Carrington attractive, don't you?"
Hugo leaned back against the carved headboard, a slight frown in his eyes now. "What makes you say, that?"
"I can tell from the way you look at her when you're talking to her," she replied. "She is very beautiful and very witty. And you seem to like talking to her."