Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Without much else to do other than grin dumbly while the duke welcomed his guests, Haven’s attention drifted to the eerie fraternal womb mates. Even though she'd only glanced at them, she couldn’t shake the goosebumps rising on her skin, and she didn't know why.
They weren’t out of place in the glittering room. There wasn’t anything strange about them other than they were impossibly perfect in face and form, like genetically engineered Barbie dolls—except without the perky personalities or missing genitalia.
Hopefully.
When someone called her name, she refocused.
Millie stepped forward, and placed her hand on her arm.
“Haven, my dear, these are the Hughes. Harry Hughes, his delightful sister, Minerva, and their regal and enduringly patient mother, Melisande, the Marchioness of Bleydon.”
Haven smiled, and nodded at each one.
“Melisande, I would like to introduce you and your children to Miss Haven Edwards.
She is the granddaughter to one of my dearest friends, Alathea, who was widowed shortly after gifting her husband with a beautiful daughter.
Alathea, you will remember, was an adventurous sort.
When her husband died, she left to plant her feet in New World soil.
Miss Edwards is the first of dear Alathea's family to return to England in more than forty years.”
Haven, only somewhat surprised by Millie's ability to spin a yarn, attempted to curtsy, which was something she'd only seen in the movies. Praying she didn’t look like a total idiot, she peered directly into the critical eyes of the formidable Melisande Hughes.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well.” Whether the woman was sincere in her reply was questionable, but then again, Haven hadn't been sincere in her greeting, either.
Harry stepped forward to offer his hand, but the creepy couple from the corner stepped into the warm light from the fireplace, interrupting what promised to be a hearty and very clever re-introduction.
Millie, not one to miss a beat, exclaimed, “Ah, here you are.”
Lady Bleydon rose to her feet, and curtsied flawlessly.
“Your Grace, may I introduce to you my nephew and my niece, Angelous and Divinia Kroger. They are the beloved children of my late sister, Brigit. Angelous, Divinia, I have the express honor of introducing you to His Grace, the Duke of Caspire.”
Stepping forward, the one introduced as Angelous Kroger bowed before Logan, but his startlingly ice blue stare settled on Haven’s face.
After long milliseconds, he turned to the duke.
“Your Grace, we are honored to have been invited to your beautiful home. My sister and I rarely have the opportunity to dine with men of such consequence.” His thick German accent would have made his heritage apparent even if his platinum blond hair and blue eyes hadn't.
This man could be the poster boy for what Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich touted as the perfect human.
The Aryan. Though nearly perfect in face and form, his expression of barely contained dislike screamed that not all was beautiful in him.
Curious about his sister, Haven glanced to where the cool beauty stood.
Divinia Kroger was exquisite. Her pink lips pouted beneath a small, perfectly tipped nose.
Her glittering ice blue eyes didn’t read as intense as her brother's, but they still chilled.
Divinia continued to watch the duke, and her contemplative expression revealed deliberation.
She was calculating, Haven saw that as plain as day, but what could that beautiful head cook up?
Another glacial gaze drifted over him, and Logan fought off a shudder.
Miss Kroger stepped forward and offered him her hand.
He hesitated to cut off the physical connection he had to Haven, but he loosed his hold on her, and grasped the other woman’s hand.
She was stunning and carried herself with a delicate grace many women in the Ton spent years perfecting.
“Your Grace, as my brother said, we are much honored to dine with you this evening. Your home is beautiful.” Miss Kroger tilted her head to acknowledge Haven's presence, but he couldn't tell if her expression was as innocuous as she portrayed.
Bowing over her hand, he glanced into her eyes, and murmured, “I am honored to have you both as my guests.” He released her hand and straightened.
After five minutes of insipid conversation, Connors appeared and announced dinner.
Leaving Harry to escort Haven, albeit, grudgingly, Logan took his aunt's hand, and led her into the formal dining room where he sat her at his right. Lady Bleydon moved to the opposite side, and Haven took her seat two chairs down from Logan. While Aunt Millie had been planning the seating arrangements, he’d failed to instruct her to seat Haven as near to him as possible.
He wanted her close so he could keep an eye on her.
Now, she was seated between Aunt Millie and the male Kroger twin with eyes flashing hatred and intent.
Angelous Kroger needed watching.
Looking at the creamy yet strange, cold, and congealing soup, Haven nearly threw down her spoon in protest. She fought the urge to lean her head back against her chair and exhale loudly.
What she wouldn't give for a slab of thick, juicy beef ribs slathered in North Carolina recipe barbeque sauce from Pigman’s in OBX.
Those messy and delicious ribs would be followed by two eight-ounce Styrofoam containers overflowing with goopy macaroni salad and coleslaw.
She'd wash down every finger-licking bite with a bottle of ice-cold Coke.
Sure, she'd end up in a food coma, but lordy, it’d be worth it.
Her mouth slavering for the food she wished was on her plate only made what was in front of her less appealing. Unless the next course included a steak and a pile of mashed potatoes, she’d leave the table hungry.
Anxiety shrank her appetite anyway.
While she blamed most of her nervousness on the new experience of dining with such elegant company, she also blamed the man to her right.
She’d only given him a polite nod and cursory glance since the beginning of the meal, but he’d stared at her the whole time.
As an exotic dancer, she’d dealt with leering men as part of the job description, but this was a wholly different sensation.
His gaze wasn't just intense, but also filled with purpose.
It didn't settle well in her stomach.
After an hour of subtle glances and shameless eavesdropping, she had a better sense of the twins, and had to rethink her first impression.
Barbie dolls? No. Barbie dolls were made of plastic, a material that warmed when held.
These two were ice sculptures, carved from glacial floe by the hand of a master.
Cold, beautiful, perfect, but not normal ice.
Normal ice melted from the heat of someone’s touch.
Those two were permafrost. Always frozen, and dangerous to anyone who dug beneath the surface.
A shudder rocketed through her, and an inner voice warned her to tread lightly.
In the opposite direction.
Her thoughts returned to the duke. Logan.
She turned her head, oh so slightly, in his direction.
His glittering obsidian gaze devoured her.
Heat flowered through her chest. She tried to swallow, but her throat was desert dry.
She grasped the stem of her wine glass with shaking fingers and took a deep drink.
That was a mistake.
His dark eyes now focused on her mouth as her tongue flicked over her wine-wet lips.
He narrowed his black gaze, burning with a desire so hot the flames consumed her without touching her.
Overcome with an answering lust, she shifted in her seat, determined not to make a fool of herself.
She peeled her gaze from Logan, replaced the wine glass, and turned with the intention to greet the man at her right.
Second mistake.
Angelous Kroger’s eyes were bright, clear, and filled to the brim with greedy eagerness.
It was rude to ignore another guest at the table, but damn it, his presence chilled her to the bone.
She wanted to push away from the table, beg her excuses to Millie and Logan, and run headfirst, to the nearest roaring fireplace.
Unfortunately, she doubted the warmth of the flames would reach into the marrow where the chill crept in.
She shivered.
How had she transitioned from being overheated with broiling desire to ice cold within a sixty-second span? The emotional roller coaster was taking her on the ride of her life, and it was one she didn't want to be on.
Suck it up, you sissy! You can't fall apart now. You still have so much to do. You'll never get home if you break.
She breathed deep, and then spooned sickly sweet dessert into her mouth.
She was determined to enjoy her first dinner party despite the depressing lack of macaroni salad.