Chapter 8
He could think of nothing worse than having to sit between Miss Skeffington and Mr Gouldsmith for lunch. The very notion of it made Thomas cringe and for the entire meal he felt as though he was sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the moment when he could stand and walk away from the table without looking as though he was being rude.
Though talking to Mr Gouldsmith was quite intolerable, it was certainly preferable to sitting in silence beside the beautiful yet cold Miss Skeffington. She had certainly shown no interest in making conversation with him and he was not about to be the one to break the silence between them.
Instead, he had contented himself with speaking to Mr Gouldsmith. Though the man was quite pleasant outwardly and he seemed to be charming everybody around them with his idle yet somehow intriguing conversation, Thomas could not help but feel as though there was something beneath the man’s charm, something much darker and more sinister, something that made Thomas’ skin itch. He most definitely did not trust the man.
His only relief at being sat between the two of them was that he had at least put himself between Mr Gouldsmith and Miss Skeffington, saving her the discomfort of having to converse with a man who was so obviously not what he made himself out to be. Thomas had come to see men like him from a mile off and although he could not quite put his finger on what was making him feel so uneasy about the man, he was certain he would get to the bottom of it before the week was out.
I must, for my friend’s sake,he told himself, glancing down the table at Owen who seemed quite oblivious to what was going on further down his table. Thomas would not allow his friend to come under scrutiny, either for Miss Skeffington’s behaviour earlier or his wife’s choice of inviting a man such as Mr Gouldsmith to live beneath their roof for a week.
Having made it fairly successfully through lunch without talking to Miss Skeffington, Thomas was relieved when Owen finally announced that they ought to leave the table and go about their business. In no rush to hurry off to rejoin the hunt or any other of the activities that had been arranged for the guests, Thomas remained in his seat, watching, and listening to the conversations and suggestions around him.
He was relieved to find that Mr Gouldsmith made a quick exit in the direction of the manor. He had noticed that toward the end of the meal, the gentleman had begun to wriggle in his seat and Thomas guessed now that it was down to a need to relieve himself.
Thomas stifled laughter and leaned back in his seat, tilting his head back with his eyes closed to enjoy the sunshine upon his face. It was not until she spoke that Thomas realised Miss Skeffington had also clearly decided to remain at the table. "Is something amusing about Mr Gouldsmith, Lord Warrington?"
Her clipped tone caused Thomas' hackles to rise almost instantly, and he had to hold his breath to stop himself from snapping at her. She had no right to judge him on what he found amusing, especially after having so clearly chosen to ignore him for the entire lunch.
I chose to ignore her also,he reminded himself, trying to remove some of the harshness that he was feeling toward her as he lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at her once more. It was then that his harshness toward her began to melt away completely because although her tone had been clipped, her face was open and radiant, and she was smiling at him mischievously. "The two of you seemed to be getting on quite remarkably."
"Indeed." It was all that Thomas could think to say because he knew that if he said anymore, he would only let on that in truth he had loathed every moment of talking to the man. Being an earl, he had long since learned to laugh even when he did not find a conversation funny.
He had learned to go off the cues of those around him, acting charmed whenever others were just to keep himself from sticking out or maybe even allowing himself to be seen as some kind of threat. He had learned early on that walking the line between proprietary and rudeness was like walking a tightrope.
One wrong step and he would tumble and fall. Although he was a wealthy and reputable man in his own right, he was also well aware of the connections he needed to maintain in order to keep it that way. His father had all but drilled the knowledge into him from a tender age.
"My lord, I wish to apologise," Miss Skeffington spoke into the slightly awkward silence that followed his curt response and her words caused Thomas to sit up straighter in his seat. He eyed her closely, seeing the way her cheeks flushed slightly with a pinkish glow. Her hazel eyes grew round, almost as though she was nervous about whatever it was that she had to say and when she began to play with a fold in her dress it was obvious that she was feeling quite uncomfortable.
An odd sense of needing to make her feel more comfortable made Thomas speak up, "What could you possibly have to apologise to me for, Miss Skeffington?"
Even as he spoke, Thomas was almost certain that he could feel eyes upon them. Someone was watching them from the shadows just inside the back doorway of the manor and the earl was certain that it would not take much to guess who it was. Lady Kendall had made little attempt to hide her judgement upon the two of them and it was clear that she believed they were getting on like a house on fire.
No doubt she will be even more certain of that now,Thomas thought grimly, now wishing that he had at least made a little conversation with Miss Skeffington during lunch if only to appear polite. Now it might seem to anyone who wished to see it that he and Miss Skeffington had some kind of mutual understanding that they would only share each other's company when they were certain that nobody else was watching.
Thomas did not allow himself to glance over his shoulder, keeping his gaze fully focused upon Miss Skeffington. Having been shocked by her willingness to apologise for something without provocation, he was not about to make her feel as though he did not appreciate it.
"I wish apologise for our earlier conversation," she admitted and the way that she met his gaze told Thomas that she was entirely sincere in her words though he was unsure as to whether she was apologising for cutting him off for offering her and her mother help before lunch or whether she was referring to their conversation in the parlour the night before.
When she continued, he was almost certain that she was referring to the latter. "I do not wish for you to believe me bigheaded."
"Why ever would I believe you to be bigheaded, Miss Skeffington?" Thomas asked, meaning for his tone to be whimsical and playful but it was clear from the way she began to scowl that she had not taken it that way.
Thomas' stomach twisted, wondering if perhaps he had gotten the measure of her wrong. He had believed she was the kind of woman with a similar sense of humour. He had not taken her to be sensitive as many women of the Ton who were all too quick to take offence.
"Are you mocking me, my lord?" Miss Skeffington asked, her hazel gaze darkening even as she glared at him with a furrowed brow.
And our conversation had started out so civil!Thomas thought, cursing himself.
But then, just as he was sure his worry was beginning to show on his face, Miss Skeffington began to smile, and he was surprised when she reached out and laid her gloved fingertips upon his forearm. Even through the material of his lunch jacket, he could feel the warmth of her fingers and her touch made his skin turn to gooseflesh.
"I am truly sorry, my lord," she continued with a smile, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze with her fingers. "I find I am much more stressed by Lady Kendall's need to play matchmaker than I had realised, and I am afraid I have been taking it out on you."
Thomas instinctively reached for Miss Skeffington's hand in return and laid his fingers over hers, gazing into her beautifully dark and mysterious eyes as he stated, "Miss Skeffington, I could never accuse you of being big headed after the spectacle you made before lunch."
Though he had meant the words to be complimentary, Thomas felt tension seeping into the young lady. Her fingers went rigid beneath his own and he was quite sure that he might have offended her. Yet her sharp intake of breath had left him just as breathless, and he found he could not bring himself to break the connection between their gazes.
I must get out of here and quickly,he thought, alarmed by the sudden urge to comfort the woman further.
"Lord Warrington, I am unsure as to whether that was an insult or a compliment," she admitted, snatching her hand out from beneath his almost as if he had stung her. Certain now that if he remained much longer in her presence, he might do something he would regret, Thomas simply smiled and began to push back his chair with the backs of his knees.
"Good afternoon, Miss Skeffington," he announced with a bow of his head, his smile only broadening when he saw the dismay upon her face. She was obviously awaiting some kind of reassurance, some words of comfort that would tell her he had not been insulting her and yet Thomas could not bring himself to answer her.
The disappointment he had felt at the loss of her hand upon his arm had told him all he needed to know and what he knew was that he had to get out of there.
Even as he turned and began to walk away from the table, he heard Miss Skeffington call after him, "Lord Warrington, was that an insult?"
If you wish to take it as such then perhaps it would be better for us both,Thomas thought, stifling a cringe as he continued to walk away.