Free Susan Johnson by To Please a Lady (Carre)

back to Holland.” Straightening her shoulders, she gave her sister-in-law a determined look. “As for Argyll, I’ve handled men like him before.”
    “I’ll offer up a prayer,” Amelia lightly said.
    Roxane’s eyes flashed with amusement. “I might need two prayers, considering the incompetence of Catherine’s cook.”

     
    T HE DINNER PARTY LIVED UP TO ROXANE’S DOUR expectations, Catherine Haddock predictably vicious from the first moment she realized Argyll and Roxane had arrived together. “How wonderful to see you, John,” she purred, coming to greet them in a rustle of pink silk, her pale blue eyes snidely appraising Roxane in ivory mousseline and black lace. “You look tired, darling,” she nastily murmured. “But then you didn’t get much sleep last night, I hear.”
    “For which Queensberry was justly castigated,” Argyll interposed. “Did he mention that?” His gaze traveled across the room to where Queensberry held court in the midst of a throng.
    “Of course not, John. It would have ruined his story. Although young Robbie Carre’s escape was ruin enough.” She turned her taunting glance on Roxane. “Are the Carre brothers the same?” she maliciously inquired.
    “Now why would I care to tell you that, Catherine?” Roxane blandly replied. “I can’t imagine it would do you any good.”
    “The boy’s such a young cub,” their hostess declared, not about to be deflected from her uncharitable mockery. “He must be refreshingly different from his older brother, who’s refined debauchery to a fine art.”
    “Are you actually expecting a response to that?” Roxane casually remarked.
    “Oh, dear,” Catherine said with an artful moue. “Did I overstep propriety?”
    “Since you have no idea what propriety is, Catherine, I can’t expect you to recognize it.”
    “Don’t be bitter, darling. A woman your age can’t afford to frown. Do
you
find youthful lovers refreshing, John?” she went on, feline and catty, gazing pointedly at Roxane, who was seven years older than she. “They seem to be all the rage.”
    “I find beauty at any age refreshing,” Argyll replied, smiling down at Roxane. “Particularly redheads.” He took Roxane’s hand. “Would you like a glass of wine, my dear?”
    With the commissioner’s blunt change of subject, their hostess was forced to postpone her malice. Although Catherine Haddock didn’t long curtail her nastiness.
    She placed her guests of honor, Argyll and Queensberry, to her left and right at dinner, and despite her effort to exile Roxane to the far end of the table, Argyll insisted she be seated beside him.
    Queensberry maintained an affable expression throughout dinner, although that cordiality didn’t extend to his chill, shuttered gaze. And his conversation, while civil, required a noticeable effort in the company of his archrival.
    With her elderly husband absent in Aberdeen, Catherine Haddock’s seduction of Argyll was so obvious and blatant that bets were taken by the guests on the duration of Argyll’s resistance. Her voice when she spoke to him was lush with suggestion, her gaze limpid and warm. She took every opportunity to touch his hand or arm as emphasis to her conversation, which weighed heavily in favor of Argyll’s most successful battles on the Continent.
    During an interval when Argyll was once againobliged to give his attention to Catherine, Queensberry remarked to Roxane in an undertone, “It’s like watching a play, isn’t it?” His gaze flickered to his hostess, and when it returned to Roxane, his eyes held a genuine amusement.
    “Absolve me from any involvement in this discussion of battles and troop maneuvers,” Roxane mildly observed. “I’m here only for dinner.”
    “You like Catherine’s cook?”
    “Let’s just say there’s a certain safety in the guest list.”
    “In your escort, you mean.”
    “Did I say that, James?” she sweetly returned.
    “The news is all around town,” he casually noted.