Chapter 8
While Deborah was thankful that Percy did not follow her again, she admitted to being a little disappointed.
He had certainly been intent on speaking with her, which made her wonder at his true intentions when his questions were barely what one would ask in a polite conversation with someone who was little more than an acquaintance.
Polite!
Did he fear that because of their past she would make this holiday difficult and wanted to be assured that they were still friends?
And why had Danby rejected him. Not that Percy had asked to court her or anything. He had only wanted a dance but Danby discouraged him because he lived in Wales.
The argument did not hold up because Danby would not care about something so insignificant when he was eager to see his great-nieces and nephews married and settled.
Which could only mean one thing—Danby had already decided on a husband for her who was likely soon to arrive at Danby Castle, where she would not be, and thus rejected anyone else, even if they only sought a dance.
Deborah blew out a sigh and settled at the dressing table to do something with her hair before supper. Her going from room to room and crossing the terrace three times had dampened the curls and she was not certain she could repair them.
It would be easier to just pull her hair back in a chignon and forget about it, except, with Percy here, she wanted to make certain that every hair was in place and that she wore only her most attractive dresses.
She wanted him to regret his leaving her without saying goodbye. It was a matter of pride after all.
He certainly did not need to use any effort to be attractive.
Even when his hair was mussed, which it often was because he had the habit of pushing his fingers through it while he thought, or paced, or became frustrated.
She’d once told him that he shouldn’t even bother brushing it in the morning because it would be a mess again before he finished breaking his fast.
She smiled at the memory of how he had tried to go all day without touching his hair and had failed before supper was placed on the table.
Deborah quickly chastised herself. She’d not revisit fond memories until she knew what he was about.
With that thought, she twisted her long hair behind her head then shoved pins in to keep it held in place and ignored the shorter curls that escaped.
She then pulled a light blue dress from the armoire.
It was satisfactory, and not as flattering as others she had brought, but she did not want Percy to think that she was making any effort on his behalf, which she was not.
Deborah then pinched her cheeks and made her way down to the parlor where everybody had gathered for dinner.
Upon entering the room, she paused and glanced about.
No matter how much she told herself that it did not matter if she gained Percy’s attention, deep down she wanted it, or at least wanted him to regret rejecting her, but had to reluctantly admit that there was competition from the five Simpson sisters. All were quite lovely if not beautiful.
Was Percy interested in courting one of them and was that the true reason he had been invited?
Her stomach tightened at such unpleasant thoughts but he was currently engaged in conversation with Damaris, the third sister, only three years younger than him.
Deborah supposed that she should speak with someone instead of standing awkwardly in the doorway, and then spied two of the invited bachelors, Mr. Alden Knight and Lord Augustus Tilson, both already known to her through Peter, standing not so far away and in a discussion about horses, if she heard correctly.
She smiled and glided toward them and if Percy happened to become jealous, then she would have no objection.
When she reached the gentlemen, she turned just enough to notice the frown of irritation on Percy's face before he returned his attention to Damaris.
If he was jealous, could there still be hope?
Deborah quickly and silently chastised herself. It would do no good to hope when Percy had already decided that she was no more than a friend.
Blast him!
Besides, it wasn’t so much that she wanted him. It was more that she wanted him to be sorry that he lost her.
Percy had been having a delightful conversation with Miss Damaris Simpson but only because he was waiting for Deborah and had intentionally placed himself where he would see her the moment she entered.
Not that he didn't find Miss Damaris agreeable, but she was not for him.
There was no desire. No undeniable attraction, unlike the woman with golden hair and jade eyes who stood at the threshold and took in the room.
He nearly sucked in his breath when he noticed her light blue dress.
As with all the creations that she had worn in London, this one fit her perfectly and accentuated her breasts.
Breasts he knew what they felt like and how perfectly they overflowed his palm.
She was beauty in simplicity with her golden hair pulled back in a chignon while a few delicate curls escaped.
Her jade eyes were mischievous as was her smile as she walked toward Tilson and Knight.
Of course, they welcomed her to the conversation. What bachelor would not? Tilson must have muttered some witticism since Deborah laughed.
His stomach churned and burned. There was no doubt about it. He was jealous!
Percy turned to Miss Damaris and was about to offer his arm to escort her to join the group that included Deborah but before he could utter a word, dinner was announced.
As he watched Tilson offer his arm to Deborah, he offered his to Miss Damaris.
Percy had wanted to be the one to take Deborah into dinner, but that did not mean that he could not sit on the other side of her so that they could converse.
Except, once they arrived at the table, she was already seated between Knight and Tilson, so he led Miss Damaris to the opposite side of the table and took a seat directly across from Deborah.
At least he would be able to hear what conversation was taking place between Deborah and the two gentlemen.
Deborah did not so much as greet him but simply nodded in acknowledgement of his presence before she smiled at Damaris, then returned her attention to Tilson and what he was saying.
Percy would like to know what was so damn fascinating, but Tilson was speaking so low that only a few words could be heard.
Such should not be done in a public setting at the dinner and her brother would most definitely have objections.
Percy glanced down the table to where Peter was sitting. He looked at his younger sister with her head close to Tilson’s then shook his head and returned his attention to his wife, Johanna.
Bloody hell!
Tilson’s reputation was no better than his own, but Peter might as well have given the man permission to court, or seduce, Deborah.
Well, he could ignore her as she ignored him and turned his attention to Miss Damaris, since he had escorted her into the dining room, except she was already engaged in a conversation with Lord Nevil Claxton.
To Percy’s left was Miss Jael Simpson, the youngest of the five sisters and all of eight and ten, and always happy.
He’d been introduced to her earlier, but Percy was at a loss as to what he might say to her.
“Are you always this cheerful?”
“I am now,” she answered.
“You were not before?” he asked as soup was placed before them.
“I suppose I was content because I did not know any differently.”
As in she likely had no idea how Society went about because she’d been in the schoolroom until last spring. If one was sheltered enough, London could be quite fascinating.
“Oh dear!” Miss Damaris exclaimed and drew his attention.
“I am so very sorry,” she kept saying as she used her napkin to wipe up the soup that she had just spilled. How did someone spill a bowl of soup that was sitting right in front of them?
Beside her stood Claxton, who grimaced. “Do not concern yourself.” His trousers were wet where his lap had been and if one did not know better, would assume that he’d relieved himself.
“Please excuse me,” Damaris murmured as she pushed her chair back.
Claxton grimaced.
Miss Damaris barely curtseyed after she stood and rushed from the room as Claxton lifted the leg of the chair from the top of his foot.
“If you will excuse me,” Jael murmured. “My sister is rather accident prone. I must go to her.”
“I suppose I should change,” Claxton grumbled and also left, leaving Percy quite alone with an empty chair to his left and two empty chairs to his right while Deborah watched on in humor before she returned to her conversation with Tilson.