“Yes, of course.” What else could she say?
“Now run along. Have you finished the meals for the week? That fish we had the other day was dreadful. I’m off them for now. Can’t even think of having one.”
“Yes, I remember. We’re going to have some nice mutton.”
“What a good idea. And maybe later we can talk about hosting a dinner. I should like to have one toward the end of the Season. Say, twelve guests?”
Lilah sighed. Lady Rees always had an end of the Season dinner with an eclectic group of her intimates. Lilah was always paired with an influential boor. Someone Lady Rees wanted to impress by inviting, but did not want to do the work of conversing with. Lilah was well-skilled at listening politely to whomever was her dinner companion and making sure he, at least, enjoyed the dinner.
She, on the other hand, always went to bed with a headache once the interminable meal was over. “Perhaps this year I could invite my friend, Lady Clara.” At least then she would have someone to talk with.
“The odd one? Well, I suppose. But then I’d have to find someone to match her with. A gentleman who isn’t very stiff in his notions. Maybe one of Gwen’s bookish friends. Would that make you happy?”
It was something, she supposed. But it felt like she was accepting a cup of water when what she wanted was a river. Was she being ungrateful?
“Lilah? Don’t you think that’s a most generous idea? You can help me choose the man I invite, so long as he is appropriate to the company.”
What could she say? “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Thank you, Mama.”
Chapter Nine
Aaron’s day hadbeen absolutely miserable. No one liked drippy, foggy days, but his had come with a full round of chastisement from his party leader over breakfast, bureaucratic delays regarding his successor in the House of Commons throughout the morning, and further fruitless discussions throughout the afternoon. He didn’t disagree with his party’s general policies, he just preferred a different focus. He saw need everywhere he looked and so many of the country’s leaders didn’t seem interested in alleviating the suffering. At least not the way he thought they should.
He wasn’t surprised when he arrived at his front door to find no butler answering his knock. His staff often disappeared in the evening. He used his key to open his own front door, then stopped on the threshold at the sound of hysterical female laughter. It was so odd that, at first, he didn’t even recognize it as laughter. But once he did, he pulled off his hat and climbed the stairs to investigate.
The door was ajar, which was fortunate, because he got a full view of Miss Rees in repose. Her legs were tucked up onto the settee as she leaned sideways against the armrest. Her eyes were bright, and she bit her lower lip in the most adorable way. He had to step closer to see what she was doing. She was spinning an empty wineglass in her hand before she tossed it into the air then caught it again. It was an impressing feat of juggling and his sister clapped her hands in delight.
“That’s marvelous!” Clara cried. “Teach me how to do that?” She drained her glass of wine then held it up as if to start spinning it.
“Stop! Stop! You can’t start with fine glasses. They’ll shatter all over the floor.”
Fortunately for his glassware, Clara flopped back into her chair beside the settee. “Oh very well. I’d rather drink more wine anyway.”
“Me, too!” agreed Miss Rees. Sadly, Clara had just finished the bottle.
“Bother. We’ll have to get another one.”
He stepped into the room. “Then you shouldn’t have dismissed the staff for the night,” he said as he reached for the empty bottle.
“My lord!” cried Miss Rees as she hastily readjusted to a more proper position on the settee. It gave him a glimpse of her delightful ankles, but the end result was less intriguing. He would have to tempt her to relax in his presence.
“Well of course I dismissed the staff,” Clara said as she gave him the bottle. “Do you think I want them listening in while Lilah and I talk about bad men?”
His brows rose. “About—”
“We’re sharing stories, my lord,” Lilah said hastily. “About a drunken footman and—”
“About the barrister who was so drunk he fell asleep in the middle of a trial.”
“And a drunken cabbie who forgot he had a fare in his carriage—”
“There seems to be a theme here.” Ironic, really, given that both of them were well into their cups.
Miss Rees grinned as she twirled her empty glass. “It seemed like an appropriate topic.”
Good lord, but he loved her smile.
“Go get another bottle for us, will you?” his sister begged. “And guess what!”