His mother had included in the invitation all adult members of each family so there was a sprinkling of younger sisters, not yet out but old enough to attend a house party, as well as seven single gentlemen. He watched with some amusement as several of these young men took stock of the girls on offer, deciding which one to make a play for themselves. Obviously, as he could only offer for one of the six, this left five available.

  It was perilously close to dinner being served and the Watson family had yet to arrive in the drawing room. Were they deliberately leaving it until the last possible minute in order to make an entrance? This didn't seem like something Watson would be party to.

  He glanced at the overmantel clock and saw it was five minutes to the hour. As long as they were here before dinner was announced no rules would have been broken. Foster, usually a stickler for correct procedure, unexpectedly appeared in the double doors at the far end of the room and was about to announce, five minutes early, that dinner was served.

  He looked round and saw the missing Watsons halfway down the staircase. In that moment he understood this was deliberate – for some inexplicable reason Foster wished to discredit and embarrass these people. It was his duty to escort his mother into the dining room at the head of the throng and then the others could follow and find their own places at the dining table.

  There was only one way to prevent this deliberate insult to these guests and this was to absent himself from the room so then nobody could go in. He strode out, across the vast black and white chequered floor of the hall and arrived at the bottom of the staircase at the same time as did the Watsons.

  'Sir, ma'am, Miss Watson, it appears that I must apologise yet again for my staff. I'm assuming that you weren't shown to your new accommodation when you should have been.'

  'I don't know what's going on here, my lord, but I'll tell you plainly I intend to leave tomorrow. I don't want my daughter associated with a gentleman who can allow this sort of thing to happen – not once, but twice on the same day.'

  'Let's not discuss this now, Joseph, I heard dinner being announced a moment ago.'

  As he was standing directly in front of the party they couldn't progress without him stepping aside. 'There's no need to hurry, ma'am, nobody goes in until I'm there. Which is why I'm out here with you.' He half-bowed to the girl and offered his arm. 'Miss Watson, please allow me to escort you into dinner.' Despite the circumstances he saw the hesitation in her eyes and thought for a moment that she might refuse.

  'Thank you, my lord, I'd be delighted to accompany you. By singling me out for this honour you know what people will think?'

  Her parents had walked ahead and immediately mingled with the crowd so they wouldn't be the centre of attention. 'They'll think that I've made my choice, but we both know even if I were to offer that your father would refuse me so I cannot see that it matters.'

  She glanced up at him and giggled – an unexpected sound as she seemed far too sophisticated. 'I can't argue with that logic, my lord, so let's set tongues wagging.'

  The guests stepped aside as he led her through and, as he passed his mother,n he saw her astonishment. He was enjoying the moment, confounding the spectators, and his partner was equally diverted by the circumstances.

  It was the look of pure venom on Foster's face that took him aback. There was something underhand going on here, but discovering what it was would have to wait until the morning.

  'I really don't want to sit next to you at the head of the table, my lord. Will it look odd of me if I sit elsewhere?'

  Her hand began to slide from his arm and he reached across and held it firm with his other hand. 'Not only would it look odd, Miss Watson, it will make me look ridiculous…'

  This conversation was being conducted quietly so nobody behind them could overhear.

  'I don't give a fig about you, sir, but I've absolutely no desire to be thought of as your choice – or even your possible choice.'

  From being amused at her insistence he became irritated. 'You'll sit with me whether you like it or not. To do anything else would be unconscionable and make a difficult situation even worse. Do you wish to embarrass your parents further?'

  This gave her pause and her hand slid back to its previous position. 'Very well, I do care what my parents think. However, don't expect me to simper up at you and hang on your every word as if I'm besotted.'

  'Perish the thought. All you have to do my girl, is sit beside me and behave yourself. Although somehow I think that might be beyond you.'

  The tension in her hand relaxed and she looked up at him and laughed. 'Am I so appalling? I can assure you, my lord, I might be headstrong but I'm not a ninny. I'll do nothing to outrage the tabbies or put my parents to the blush.'

  They arrived at the far end of the grand dining room and two footmen were ready to pull out their chairs. She would sit on his left and his mother on his right. His siblings would not be present – Ellis was too young and Ben was confined to his apartment for his appalling behaviour.

  Some houses insisted that guests came into dinner in order of precedence but that didn't happen here. After he and his mother had entered guests came in as they wished and found their own seats around the enormous table.

  There were forty-eight places laid – six at each end and eighteen down either side. The table was so vast it would be impossible for him to speak to anyone but those at his end of the table.

  He watched with interest as they milled about and found themselves seats. This gave him ample opportunity to examine these somewhat unwelcome guests in what they considered their finest garments.

  'Devil take it!' He spoke without thinking so surprised was he by what he'd seen. Every single young lady, apart from the one sitting beside him, was dressed in white, or other pale shades. Not only that, their gowns were fussy and, in his opinion, not at all attractive.

  Miss Watson was looking at him inquiringly, presumably having heard his intemperate exclamation.

  'Why are you not dressed as the others? I'm not complaining, I much prefer your ensemble, but are you not breaking the rules for debutantes by being dressed as you are?'

  'Mama agreed that pastel shades don't suit me at all – it was my decision to have my gowns free of unnecessary embellishments, whatever the current fashion dictates.'

  This was an extraordinary conversation to be having and he couldn’t recall ever in his life discussing such a thing even with his mother, and certainly not with any ladybirds he might have had on his arm. He had, naturally, complemented women on their ensembles from time to time as was only right. But talk about the cut and colour? Not something he'd expected to do and certainly not with this girl he'd only just met and wasn't sure he even liked.

  *

  Thea had responded to his lordship's question as if his words were of no import when the reverse was true. The only events she'd attended so far had been informal parties with neighbours and nobody had worried about what colour her gowns were.

  Surreptitiously she looked around the noisy dining room under the pretence of adjusting her gloves. The matrons were dressed in a variety of styles, no doubt all fabulously expensive, but certainly not all were to her taste. What concerned her was what the gentleman she was sitting next to had so baldly pointed out to her. She was the only girl dressed in a colourful gown. Perhaps, with hindsight, she and Mama should have been more circumspect in their choices of material, buttercup yellow was very bright indeed compared to the other debutantes.

  'Hold your head up, Miss Watson, brazen it out. I think you look enchanting and as I'm the most important person in this room my opinion is the only one that counts.'

  For a moment she thought him serious and then saw the twinkle in his eyes. Her spirits rallied. When they left here in three weeks' time she'd never see any of these people again so why did it matter if they judged her and found her wanting?

  She pinned on a bright smile. 'Not only are you the most important person here, no doubt you might consider yourself the most important person in the county. I doubt there are many other seventh-generation earls in Suffolk.'

  'Unfortunately for my pride, there's an ancient duke and one other of the same rank as me.' He looked across as if checking that his staff were in place and spoke to her with his head turned away from the other diners. 'I would say that all but two or three of the ladies are looking at you with admiration and envy, rather than condemnation for your bold choice of colour.'

  'I think their envy is for my position at your side, rather than my outrageous golden gown.'

  Two footmen arrived, one holding the tureen of soup, the other with the ladle with which to serve it. She enjoyed a hearty soup, preferably one with lots of vegetables and chunks of meat. She watched with dismay as a clear brown liquid more resembling ditchwater than soup was put into her bowl.

  The most important people would be served first but nobody could dip a spoon into their bowls until everybody had been served.

  'My lord, I know you to be low on funds, but surely your kitchens could manage something better than this insipid liquid? I wouldn't honour it with the name soup as it bears little resemblance to anything of that name.'

  'It's beef consommé, my dear, not a great favourite of mine, but my mother wished to impress our guests.'

  She couldn't restrain her snort of disbelief. 'With this ditchwater? I hardly think anyone will be impressed. Where are the tasty chunks of meat and vegetables?'

  'It takes a very skilled chef indeed to clarify consommé like this. Reserve your judgement until you've tasted it.'

  With some reluctance Thea scooped up a mouthful and drank it from her spoon. She'd never tasted anything so delicious. It was a revelation to her that something that looked so unappetising could in fact be the exact opposite.

  'I retract my previous statement, my lord, this is delicate, fragrant and quite the best soup – forgive me – best consommé I've ever eaten.'

  He chuckled. 'As it's the only consommé you've ever eaten, I'm not sure that constitutes a compliment.'

  'I refuse to continue this ridiculous conversation. I'm going to immerse myself…'

  He laughed as he was putting his spoon to his mouth and sprayed the contents across the immaculate white, linen tablecloth. They were drawing the attention of everybody at their end of the table.

  'You know exactly what I was going to say, don't be a nincompoop. You're making a spectacle of yourself and of me.'

  He recovered, unabashed by his breach of manners, mopped his chin and turned to look at her. 'You said you were going to immerse yourself in your soup. I had visions of you face down in the bowl like a puppy.'

  'I certainly said no such thing, you annoying gentleman. I intended to say that I was going to immerse myself in the experience of drinking something I'd never had before. Your stock is now besmirched with soup.'

  'Is it? I don't give a damn. I've never had such an entertaining dinner companion before.'

  Lady Harcourt had obviously witnessed this entire incident and had probably overheard everything they'd said to each other. 'Benedict, Miss Watson is quite right to reprimand you. I can't imagine what bat has got into your attic to cause you to behave in this way.'

  'I apologise for my frivolity, Mama, but this is my house and I believe that gives me the right to behave any way I choose.'

  'That is so, of course, but one doesn't expect the head of the Stonham family to behave like a silly schoolboy.'

  Thea braced herself. The air crackled with tension and Lord Stonham's knuckles were white. What had been an amusing interaction between them had suddenly turned into something quite different.

  'My lord, if you're not going to eat your soup then you should place your spoon in the bowl then your staff will be aware of your decision. It will mortally offend your chef, of course, but I don't suppose that will bother you one jot.' She was being deliberately impertinent in the hope of deflecting his anger from his mother.

  He looked at her as if she'd been speaking in tongues; for a second the outcome hung in the balance. Then, to her relief, his fingers relaxed and his smile made her toes curl in her slippers.

  'Thank you, Miss Watson, for so kindly reminding me of my table manners.' With slow deliberation he removed his spoon from the plate and put it where it should be. Then he sat back making it even more obvious that he wasn't going to drink any more.

  She looked anxiously down the table, but apart from those sitting immediately adjacent, nobody else had been aware of the consommé incident. Everybody, however, appeared to have finished and his staff were just waiting for him to do the same.

  The bowls and underplates were whisked away. The dinner was being served à la russe which was very modern. This meant the food was served in the kitchen then brought to the table. She had wondered why the soup had been presented in the way it was. It was more usual to have it the French way of serving rather than the Russian.

  'My lord, I'm not sure if your guests are appreciating this way of presenting their dinner. Having dozens of tempting items set out down the centre of the table for them to help themselves allows them not only to be greedy, but also to have more choice. What if one of them is allergic to fish?'

  'Then they will do without. This way is less wasteful. Do you disapprove? As you appear to be the authority on how things should be done, I'd not wish to upset you.'

  She hid her giggle behind her napkin. He was being quite ridiculous and she was rapidly revising her less than favourable opinion. 'As you very well know, sir, I'm the authority on nothing.'

  'I understand from your father that you're definitely an expert on horseflesh.'

  The fish course arrived and she sincerely hoped he hadn't noticed her flushed cheeks. Was this the time to tell him that her stallion and her dogs would be arriving in the morning?

  Her appetite deserted her and she ignored the plate in front of her. He misinterpreted her actions.

  'God's teeth, it's you that's allergic to fish. I'll have something else fetched immediately.'

  'No, I love fish. I must tell you that my own horse and my two wolfhounds will be arriving tomorrow. I don't have my father's permission for bringing them and I certainly don't have yours.'

  Instead of commenting on her revelation he said something quite unsuitable. 'He mentioned that you ride a stallion. How do you manage him when there are mares in season?'

  'He knows his manners, unlike someone sitting next to me who thinks it appropriate to talk of such a thing over dinner.' She smiled sweetly at him, but fooled him not at all. 'You forget that I'm an innocent young lady sitting next to you unwillingly and I'm not used to attending such a prestigious event.'

  'I beg your pardon; this is a conversation for the morning. Eat your fish, child, haven't we already decided that my chef mustn't be offended tonight?'

  She did as he bid and it was as delicious as the consommé. She scarcely noticed what she ate for the remainder of the meal. When the Dowager Countess stood up indicating the ladies should retreat, leaving the gentlemen to their port, she was disappointed. Lord Stonham had kept her royally entertained and, apart from being referred to as a child on more than one occasion, she'd decided her initial reservations were unnecessary.

  The twenty or so ladies drifted back through the double doors into the drawing room and then the younger ladies congregated at one end and the matrons at the other. She had no option but to join the former.

  'Miss Watson, has the earl made you an offer so soon?' The speaker was a petite girl with golden curls and pretty blue eyes. Thea disliked her on sight.

  Instead of answering she stared down at the girl from her superior height. 'I don't believe we've been introduced. You have the advantage of me.'

  'I'm Priscilla Andrews.' The girl looked around at the others making sure they were on her side before continuing. 'We all know who you are. Your outrageous flirting with our host didn't go unnoticed by anyone at the table.'

  'Were we flirting? I've no notion what that might be as this is the first time I've been in company with single gentlemen, let alone an aristocrat. I just thought we were having a lively conversation.' She shook her head, as if genuinely puzzled that she'd somehow managed to offend everybody at the table. 'I didn't want to sit with him, but he insisted. Was it wrong of me to laugh at his jokes? I'm hoping that some of you with more experience of polite society will guide me so I don't make such an error again.'

  The answer sounded genuine and immediately the atmosphere changed to one of sympathy. Soon she was surrounded by sympathetic young ladies eager to impart their superior knowledge. She was satisfied by the time the gentlemen arrived she'd be on the best of terms with all of them.

  One girl, Lucinda Hoskins, seemed as unwilling to be here as she was. She drew the girl aside, leaving the others to chatter amongst themselves, determined to discover the reason why Lucinda – they were already on intimate terms – had no wish to be married to the handsome Earl of Stonham.

  Chapter Five

  '

  Benedict used this interlude with the gentleman to get to know the father's the girls he was going to select his bride from. On the whole they were a reasonable bunch of fellows and he thought that any one of them would be acceptable.

  It was his mother's job to vet the ladies and no doubt she was doing exactly the same as him in the drawing room. The conversation had been general, about the bond market, the latest news from the war in France, when one of them said something that bothered him.

  'I'm not one to complain, my lord,' the man said and promptly began to do so. 'However, if you've already made your choice why are we here dancing to your tune?'

  Benedict was about to put this person straight but he continued going into more detail of his grievance.

  'Firstly, you've housed the Watson family on your side of the house. Secondly, you sat the chit next to you and made it more than clear that you find her attractive.'