“Would you like more?” He was already out of his chair because, dammit, he was having more. In fact, he might polish off the bottle to keep himself from dragging his wife from her seat and carrying her upstairs.
Courtship now. Seduction later.
Yes, that was the right plan.
“Are you having more?” she asked.
He brought the bottle back to the table. “Yes.” He looked at her in question as he began to pour into her glass.
“Thank you. Not too much.”
He filled the glass a little more than halfway, then gave himself the same amount. “I’ll convey your cards to Haddock so he may inform Dagnall.”
“There’s no hurry. I’m not rushing back to Hampton Lodge any time soon.” She peered at him over her glass before taking a drink.
She was flirting with him again. He needed to respond in kind. How did he not know how to flirt? Because almost the entirety of his education, and certainly what he practiced, came from his father, who wouldn’t know how to flirt if a peacock strutted around his bedroom every morning in an attempt to teach him the basic ways of nature.
Constantine may not be a peacock, but he could try. He leaned toward Sabrina and caught the scent of vanilla and apple. “Good. Because this wine tasting is just the beginning of this Season. Our Season.”
Her lips parted, and it seemed her chest began to move more rapidly, as if her pulse had quickened. His had too, and he was now fully erect, his body eager for the next step.
Soon.
He held his glass toward her. “To the Season.”
She tapped hers against his. “To the Season.”
Starting with how in the hell he was going to ensure his meeting that night finished soon enough for him to join her at the ball.
Chapter 14
As Sabrina stepped out of the coach in front of Evesham House in Grosvenor Square, she almost hoped she would turn her ankle so she could abort the visit and return home. Her chest felt tight, and her breathing was shallow as she worked to overcome her anxiety. The façade of the duke’s residence rose tall and intimidating with four pillars at the entrance and gleaming windows stacked in perfect symmetry across the four visible stories.
Smoothing her hand over her hip, she took confidence in another of her new costumes. The smart walking dress was crafted from a bold, bright green and decorated with gold buttons and stitching. She chose to wear the color today to show the duke that she could be daring, that she was, without a doubt, the Countess of Aldington and the future Duchess of Evesham.
Constantine had said it was best if she went alone, and while she agreed, she was still nervous. Particularly since she’d felt a bit lethargic that morning. After yesterday’s wine sampling, she’d emerged from her alcohol-infused giddiness feeling incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, that she’d left the ball rather early. Because of that, she’d already departed by the time Constantine was finally able to arrive.
She’d apologized to him earlier. He’d smiled warmly and assured her all was well, that it was he who should be sorry for not accompanying her in the first place. That was when she’d suggested he come along with her on this call. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to. He’d argued that she’d gain more ground with the duke if she went on her own.
Lifting her lips into a smile she hoped would buoy her spirit, she went to the door, which a footman opened just as she arrived in front of it.
The butler stood in the center of the cavernous foyer. With its polished marble, sparkling gilt, and excess of eye-popping artwork, the space more resembled a museum instead of a home. She had this same thought every time she entered the duke’s house and wondered what it had been like for Constantine to grow up in such a lavish place.
“Good afternoon, Lady Aldington,” the butler intoned evenly. “His Grace is awaiting you upstairs in the drawing room.”
Sabrina exhaled in relief. Constantine had thought she would be subjected to a more formal interview in his study. That’s how he met with his sons, as if they were business associates instead of family. “Thank you.”
She followed the butler into the staircase hall, which was every bit as grand as the foyer. The walls were covered in a dark wood paneling that matched the stairs. The atmosphere was masculine but also warm, warmer than the foyer at least. Here, she could imagine Constantine and Lucien chasing each other up or down the stairs. But then, she doubted they’d been allowed to do such things given the duke’s disposition.
The duke was waiting for her in the drawing room, which was at the front of the house. He stood near the hearth, his dark gray brows drawn over his deep brown eyes that could have been borrowed from Lucien’s face. Overall, he and Lucien looked quite a bit alike, while Constantine seemed to favor their mother, at least based on the portraits Sabrina had seen.
Sabrina sank into a curtsey. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
“Come and sit, Countess.” He indicated a chair, giving her no choice as to where she might sit.
When she was seated, he took a chair directly across from her, which seemed to put them in physical opposition. Or perhaps her mind was only looking for negativity.
She needed to be optimistic about this meeting. “Thank you for allowing me to sponsor Lady Cassandra. I am very much looking forward to guiding her this Season.”
He squinted one eye at her as he rested his forearms on the sides of the chair. “That’s amusing, isn’t it? You guiding anyone through a Season when you have no experience. You could scarcely manage to suffer through yours.”
She should have expected this. The man had never minced words. “I am older now. More mature.”
A smirk twisted his lips, but he schooled his features quickly. “I should hope so. I am, in fact, counting on it. I will be watching you closely. Your primary objective is to see my daughter wed to an acceptable gentleman. You likely think I’m a hard and uncaring father, but I indulge my daughter past the point where most fathers would. I let her delay her Season, and I am giving her the opportunity to choose her husband.”
“Which is more than you allowed your heir,” she murmured. If he was going to speak plainly, so would she.
His brows shot up. “The kitten has claws? I never would have guessed.” His demeanor altered slightly as he shifted in his chair and seemed to regard her with something akin to appreciation. Not admiration, however. That would be too much to hope for.
Still, Sabrina’s chest expanded, and she sat a little taller. “I understand what you wish to happen, and I shall do my best to help Lady Cassandra find a match that is acceptable to her.”
“Just know that if she does not, she will be wed to a man of my choosing.”
Sabrina didn’t doubt he was serious, even if he did have a habit of indulging Cassandra. “Have you already identified this man?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are no longer a kitten but a cat. I shall bear that in mind. Enough of that discussion. There is one other matter I must address with you, and that is your failing role as countess. If you are to be Duchess of Evesham one day—and of course you shall, unless you happen to die—you must claim a larger role in Society.”
Sabrina nearly choked as she swallowed. “I shall endeavor to cling to my mortal coil. What sort of role?” Her stomach knotted as she considered what he might have in mind. The thought of having any sort of “role” beyond that of countess made her want to retch.