finding my way. Don’t get up!” she cried as Dalgliesh made to rise. He’d proclaim their friendship before everyone, damn his recklessness.
“It’s easy to find your way, Papa,” Chris artlessly said, immune to the emotional tumult. “The stairs go right up into the dining room. Come, Papa, show me how to count the picture cards.”
“I’ll leave you to count cards, Dalgliesh. Until tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.” It was an ultimatum no matter how softly spoken.
Both alarmed and filled with joy, she nodded. “Until dinner then.”
CHAPTER 5
P LEADING FATIGUE, ZELDA avoided teatime. The hunters hadn’t returned yet, so the company would be largely female. She wasn’t quite up to displaying the necessary indifference to Dalgliesh’s wife. Which in itself was disturbing. How should it matter? It wasn’t as though the marriage was a love match and she was trespassing on hallowed ground. Although she had crossed an unprecedented boundary by replying so impulsively to Dalgliesh’s unbelievable offer.
When she shouldn’t have.
Currently removed from temptation, however, logic more readily held sway, and the impossible and impractical were more easily jettisoned. Zelda took the time before dinner to put aside foolish things; she revived her more discerning sensibilities, reclaimed her equilibrium, and primarily reminded herself that she mustn’t make too much of Dalgliesh’s attentions. He was notable for amusing himself in lady’s boudoirs; this was no more than another flirtation for him. And as everyone knew, country house parties were notorious for amorous games.
Not that she was necessarily averse to the game, nor had she entirely eschewed such playful sport in the past. On occasion she’d enjoyed the company of some lovely man for one of those lovely long weekends. Other times she’d preferred her own company. She wasn’t a slave to temptation.
Or hadn’t been.
Dalgliesh was different.
Bewilderingly so.
But a good talking to, a short nap, a leisurely bath, a gossipy maid who helped her dress and put up her hair went far to temper her mad, heady feelings and return her to a more sober reality. She’d simply accept Dalgliesh’s company for a brief dalliance, thoroughly enjoy herself on Monday, and bid him adieu with the casualness she was sure he’d prefer. A man of his sexual repute only played at love, his shocking offer in the kitchen notwithstanding. She was sure he was as relieved as she that Chris had interrupted that astonishing exchange.
O N THE CONTRARY . . .
Try as he might, Dalgliesh hadn’t been able to dislodge the startling concept from his mind despite deliberately staying with Chris in the nursery until it was almost too late to dress for dinner. In an effort to avoid facing the disturbing Miss MacKenzie, he’d ignored the first bell signaling that it was time to dress; he’d also ignored the second bell indicating drinks were being served. But once Chris had finished his nursery supper and was assembling an intricate puzzle, Creiggy gave Alec a searching look across the small table. “No dinner for you tonight?” she murmured.
He was forced to at least answer, if not make a decision. “What do you think?” he said like he might have twenty years ago.
“You must make up your own mind,” she answered like she would have then.
“That’s the problem.”
“She seems very nice,” his old nanny blandly said. “I like that MacKenzie hair. It’s magnificent—like a blaze of glory.”
“As if I care about that,” he muttered.
“She won your race. Is she really that good?”
He smiled. “She’s good, but not that good.”
“I thought so. That horse of yours likes to win.”
“Zeus can afford to be polite on occasion.”
“When you’re being polite.”
“I had reason to be,” he gently said.
“Speaking of those reasons, are you worried about—” She rolled her eyes.
He didn’t have to ask whom the eye roll denoted. “It
“It’s easy to find your way, Papa,” Chris artlessly said, immune to the emotional tumult. “The stairs go right up into the dining room. Come, Papa, show me how to count the picture cards.”
“I’ll leave you to count cards, Dalgliesh. Until tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.” It was an ultimatum no matter how softly spoken.
Both alarmed and filled with joy, she nodded. “Until dinner then.”
CHAPTER 5
P LEADING FATIGUE, ZELDA avoided teatime. The hunters hadn’t returned yet, so the company would be largely female. She wasn’t quite up to displaying the necessary indifference to Dalgliesh’s wife. Which in itself was disturbing. How should it matter? It wasn’t as though the marriage was a love match and she was trespassing on hallowed ground. Although she had crossed an unprecedented boundary by replying so impulsively to Dalgliesh’s unbelievable offer.
When she shouldn’t have.
Currently removed from temptation, however, logic more readily held sway, and the impossible and impractical were more easily jettisoned. Zelda took the time before dinner to put aside foolish things; she revived her more discerning sensibilities, reclaimed her equilibrium, and primarily reminded herself that she mustn’t make too much of Dalgliesh’s attentions. He was notable for amusing himself in lady’s boudoirs; this was no more than another flirtation for him. And as everyone knew, country house parties were notorious for amorous games.
Not that she was necessarily averse to the game, nor had she entirely eschewed such playful sport in the past. On occasion she’d enjoyed the company of some lovely man for one of those lovely long weekends. Other times she’d preferred her own company. She wasn’t a slave to temptation.
Or hadn’t been.
Dalgliesh was different.
Bewilderingly so.
But a good talking to, a short nap, a leisurely bath, a gossipy maid who helped her dress and put up her hair went far to temper her mad, heady feelings and return her to a more sober reality. She’d simply accept Dalgliesh’s company for a brief dalliance, thoroughly enjoy herself on Monday, and bid him adieu with the casualness she was sure he’d prefer. A man of his sexual repute only played at love, his shocking offer in the kitchen notwithstanding. She was sure he was as relieved as she that Chris had interrupted that astonishing exchange.
O N THE CONTRARY . . .
Try as he might, Dalgliesh hadn’t been able to dislodge the startling concept from his mind despite deliberately staying with Chris in the nursery until it was almost too late to dress for dinner. In an effort to avoid facing the disturbing Miss MacKenzie, he’d ignored the first bell signaling that it was time to dress; he’d also ignored the second bell indicating drinks were being served. But once Chris had finished his nursery supper and was assembling an intricate puzzle, Creiggy gave Alec a searching look across the small table. “No dinner for you tonight?” she murmured.
He was forced to at least answer, if not make a decision. “What do you think?” he said like he might have twenty years ago.
“You must make up your own mind,” she answered like she would have then.
“That’s the problem.”
“She seems very nice,” his old nanny blandly said. “I like that MacKenzie hair. It’s magnificent—like a blaze of glory.”
“As if I care about that,” he muttered.
“She won your race. Is she really that good?”
He smiled. “She’s good, but not that good.”
“I thought so. That horse of yours likes to win.”
“Zeus can afford to be polite on occasion.”
“When you’re being polite.”
“I had reason to be,” he gently said.
“Speaking of those reasons, are you worried about—” She rolled her eyes.
He didn’t have to ask whom the eye roll denoted. “It
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