Free Lord of Devil Isle by Connie Mason Page A

hoped.
    “Assuredly, if you wish. I suppose we could shove back the furniture and hire a fiddler for an evening or two.” He snapped his fingers as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “You see, I’m considering hosting a house party.”
    “A house party!” Miss Munroe clapped her hands.
    “Yes, a weeklong affair, I’m thinking. We could send out invitations to some of the best folk.” A house party would allow the women to feel completely relaxed in his home since there would be a few matrons about. When the event was spread over a number of days, a party always broke up into smaller groups catering to divergentinterests. While her friends played at Blind Man’s Bluff or sang around his clavichord, Nick would divide and conquer. There’d surely be another opportunity for him to find himself alone somewhere in his rambling home with Miss Upshall.
    He leaned back in his chair as Miss Munroe and Miss Smythe carried his idea forward as if it were their own. Eve had no way to gainsay it. Picnics, archery and lawn bowling were all debated and approved. Then when their ideas for the party seemed to sag a bit, he tossed in, “And I’m thinking a new gown apiece for you ladies would not come amiss.”
    As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Miss Upshall’s eyes flared with delight. He realized he’d made a tactical error, but he wasn’t sure where.
    “Why, Captain Scott, what a generous gesture. But on top of the expense of a long house party, that seems unfair to you,” she said, leaning her cheek on her palm in thought. When she snapped her fingers, he recognized the gesture as a parody of his own. “What about a ball?”
    Nick frowned. “A ball?”
    “Oh, yes!” Miss Munroe now slid firmly into the opposing camp. “Is there anything more romantic than a ball?”
    “I like to dance,” Miss Smythe added shyly.
    “Even though your home does have many guest rooms, it can only accommodate so many. But a ball, which shouldn’t require you to provide lodging, would allow you to invite many more people,” Eve said, her logic flawless. “And your stated purpose is for us to meet as many eligible men as possible, is it not?”
    “There’s the rub, Miss Upshall,” he said with a triumphant grin. She’d run herself into a narrow inlet this time with no clearance to turn around. “My home isspacious, but I have no ballroom. Even if we cleared out the dining room”—he waved a hand around the largest room in his home, which he’d designed around the cedar table that expanded to seat twenty when all the leaves were in place—“we’d still be hard-pressed to make space for more than a half dozen couples or so to dance at once. A reel is quite vigorous, you know.”
    “Then we must choose a different venue,” Eve said, neatly closing the trap on him.
    “I-I could inquire about hiring the town hall,” the traitorous Higgs offered.
    Around the table, ideas for the ball bounced from one woman to the next, the plans zipping beyond his control, like a hooked marlin diving for deep water. Eve’s new scheme quickly escalated past the point of reeling it in.
    “Oh, Captain—” Eve finally deigned to include him in the discussion. “Since this ball constitutes a savings for you over your original plan, I do trust you’ll still be willing to provide new ball gowns for us.”
    All the feminine heads turned expectantly in his direction.
    “Of course,” he said in resignation. Nick glared at his first mate. “I expect Higgs can see to the arrangements for new ball gowns and all the necessary accoutrements while he’s off hiring a hall tomorrow!”
    Sometimes, in the smoke of battle a promising action turned south when a man least expected it. A wise man had to know when to withdraw from an engagement, so he might regroup and fight another day.
    Nicholas wished them good evening and excused himself before Eve Upshall forced him to wave his napkin like a white flag.

Chapter Eight
    “I think