“Again, you mistake bluntness for strength, Your Grace!” Hamilton looked pale and indignant.
“While ye mistake pomp for power,” Alasdair growled.
Gasps and nervous laughter rose up from a few of those nearby. However, none dared inch closer.
Seth’s mouth gaped at his friend.
“It’s time for champagne, Your Grace, I dare say,” he said quietly, nudging him.
Alasdair merely nodded, his jaw clenched and his fiery gaze still on the pale Hamilton as they walked away.
“We need to go to another table for refreshments before you begin a war,” Seth added once they were out of earshot. “You can’t possibly insult members of the ton when they insult you. That’s not how to play this game.”
“It is an idiot’s game,” Alasdair grumbled.
The two walked away from another failed alliance.
Still caught between anger and exhilaration, Alasdair followed Seth to a tent for champagne but suddenly did not have the social appetite for it. So, his friend went to get them glasses instead.
As he rounded a hedge, he froze.
Perhaps coming to the garden party was a good idea, after all.
Appropriately surrounded by rose blossoms, looking prim and proper, Lady Elizabeth Brighton stood with her gloved hands clasped in front of her.
Just like their first encounter, she had no chaperone, at least none too close. It looked like Lady Grisham and Lady Wilhelmina were elsewhere, talking to what Seth referred to as the season’s ‘most eligible bachelors.’
So, why was she here alone?
Alasdair thought Lady Grisham would have pushed Elizabeth in front of those men.
Then, she turned, and their gazes locked; Alasdair felt a strange prickling on his skin. His chest tightened at the sight of the blonde beauty looking back at him, with her lips slightly parted.
He kept his eyes on her. Normally, people shifted their eyes away from him, saying that they could not handle his intensity, but Lady Elizabeth looked back.
For a moment, uncertainty gripped him. Could she see him? He’d heard of people who needed spectacles to see better.
Then, he felt a nudge. It was Seth, passing him a flute of champagne, with his eyebrows raised. His friend had seen the interaction with Elizabeth.
“It’s her again,” Seth murmured.
He looked back at her. She blushed.
Och, there ye go.
She could see him. She was probably not certain he was looking at her, but no, the way he examined her would not leave any doubt.
She lowered her lashes and turned away.
Before Alasdair could protest, Seth introduced him to another lord.
He took a deep breath, hoping that this conversation would be better than the last.
Chapter Eight
“If I may,” Lady Elsmere said with a delighted smile, “I have the joy of sharing a happy announcement.”
The lady had given her wineglass a gentle tap, drawing the attention of the garden party guests scattered among the rose-lined paths and shaded alcoves.