Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Eight

Somehow, Constance and Lord Connor were seated next to each other at dinner. Constance had felt so elegant in the blue dinner gown, a gold bracelet of Mary's on her upper arm. But now she felt dull and plain next to his cool indifference, and it annoyed her greatly.

Guests had been filtering in from London and Edinburg all week. The house held them all with room to spare and Constance enjoyed getting to know some of them, though she felt a bit like an ugly duckling next to Mary, who handled all of it so gracefully.

Despite all of that, both Mary and Edward treated her like an equal, their guests following suit more or less. And she was enjoying herself so long as she kept out of Lord Connor's way. It was easy enough. He seemed to avoid her like the plague.

Mary said he'd be lucky to have you, she told herself fiercely. She didn't quite believe it, but she wanted to.

Mary was ruling from the head of the table in a gorgeous red gown. Most of the men were happy to look her way, though she couldn't help notice that Hugh, as Mary and Edward referred to him, didn't seem enamored with her at all. He didn't seem enamored with anyone, male or female. She decided to stop noticing Hugh, er Lord Connor, and put him firmly out of her mind.

"What do you think of Brummel's fall from grace?" One of the London guests sitting across from Constance asked. Lydia was her name, and Constance found her to be both very dull and very condescending.

She'd been fielding questions like this all week. They were innocent enough, the—how about this weather we've been having—type, but Constance had zero to say about the London Ton or the Regent's always fluctuating circle. She did have a few opinions about the Regent himself, but found it best to keep those to herself.

"I'm afraid I don't think about Brummel very much at all," Constance said cooly.

She felt Lord Connor's gaze on her and wondered if she'd said the wrong thing again. She might have been a country girl, but she didn't feel this off kilter with the rest of the guests.

"Well," Lydia said, lifting her chin, "it's all anyone who's anyone is talking about." She paused significantly. "In London at least." She smiled at Constance, sugary sweet.

Constance should let it go, except this was the third time she'd earned a thinly veiled insult from this woman and she had little experience in letting things go. "I'm afraid I wasn't blessed with a mind that has room for trivial things." She smiled back.

The corner of Hugh's mouth twitched upward.

"It's so charitable of Edward and Mary to take you in like they have," Lydia said.

Heat rushed Constance's face.

"Mary's always been too kind for her own good." Lydia smiled triumphantly.

"You misunderstand Miss Allen's role here," Lord Connor said, breaking his usual mealtime silence.

Constance really should have kept her mouth shut.

"I've heard Mary say what a godsend it is to finally have a companion in her life, with such wit and depth of character," he continued.

Lydia's own cheeks turned red.

"We must be speaking of poor Brummell," Mary said, sensing trouble. "Edward was such a student of his fashion revolution."

"Still am," Edward said, as he cut into his meat. "Still am."

"What a shame losing himself to all that gambling debt," a woman toward the end of the table said. Constance thought her name was Agnus.

"Sinful to lose control of himself that way." The gentleman at the end of the table said seriously. His name was Baines and he, too, hailed from Scotland, though he had none of the brogue that Lord Connor did.