by Darcy Burke
That word—generosity—made him think of the tutor. She’d said something similar last night…
Mrs. Haddock came in bearing a tray of food to be sampled with the wine. There were biscuits, breads, and cheeses, as well as some fruit. As she set the tray down and began to arrange the dishes, Sabrina moved toward the table.
“This is enough food for a group,” she noted.
“Perhaps we should invite the Haddocks to join us,” Constantine offered genially.
Both the butler and the housekeeper stared at him, freezing in place for a moment.
“I am content to pour for you and her ladyship,” Haddock said carefully.
Constantine hadn’t meant to make them uncomfortable. “Yes, of course.” He moved to Sabrina’s chair and held it for her.
She murmured her thanks as she sat. Then she lifted her gaze to Mrs. Haddock. “How is Grayson?”
“He’s quite well, my lady”
“Naughty as ever?” Sabrina asked with a smile that captivated Constantine’s attention as he took his chair.
Mrs. Haddock chuckled. “He’s slightly improved, as evidenced by his lack of gallivanting about the house.” She grimaced toward Constantine. “I’m still so mortified by his behavior that day, my lord.”
“I would say it’s been forgotten, but I fear that’s impossible. There is, however, nothing for you to feel mortified about. Now, please tell us about what you’ve arranged on the table.”
As the housekeeper reviewed the cheeses in particular, Constantine watched the slope of his wife’s neck as she nodded in response, the flutter of her lashes against her cheeks. He heard none of what was said as he lost himself in the simple beauty of the woman seated beside him.
“I thought you might begin with the red wines, my lord.” Haddock’s deep baritone pushed Constantine from his reverie.
“Very good.”
“I’ve provided information about each wine for Lady Aldington.” He looked toward Sabrina expectantly. “Perhaps you’d like to set aside the cards for your favorites so that we may take note. I can also communicate your preferences to Dagnall so that you may request specific wines at Hampton Lodge.”
“What a brilliant idea. Thank you, Haddock.”
The butler inclined his head. “Mrs. Haddock and I shall leave you to it.”
The housekeeper started to turn as her husband came abreast of her, and it would have been easy, second nature even, for Haddock to gently touch her back as they departed. However, he didn’t do that, nor did she move close enough to invite his attention. Because they couldn’t, not while they were working. Why had Constantine never wondered about their marriage and how it might converge with their posts before?
“Haddock,” Constantine called before they left.
The butler pivoted. “My lord?”
“When you and Mrs. Haddock have your next afternoon off, I want you to have your own wine tasting.”
Haddock looked mildly horrified. “We could not.”
“I insist. With the cheeses too.” He smiled at Mrs. Haddock who looked completely bemused.
“Thank you, my lord,” Haddock said, and this time they left without interruption.
Sabrina slid him a glance that was not unlike Mrs. Haddock’s expression. “I think you shocked them.”
“Did I surprise you too?”
“Yes. With the Repton book and now this.”
“I am also surprising myself,” he murmured. “Shall we sample the first claret?” He picked up his glass.
She did the same. “How am I to try all this without becoming frightfully inebriated? I have never been even a little bit drunk, but I hear the aftereffects can be most unpleasant.”
“That is true. The first time I overimbibed, I was at Oxford. I couldn’t hold my head up straight or keep food in my stomach for two days.”
Again, her eyes rounded. It seemed he couldn’t help but shock her repeatedly today. “I can’t believe you would do that.”
“It was many years ago, but yes. I haven’t thought of that in a very long time.” He sipped the claret and set the glass down. “If you take very small samples and nibble as you go along, you should be fine. The white wines have a lower alcohol content while the fortified wines in the back row have more.”
“I see. Perhaps I won’t even finish those. Or I will barely wet my lips with them.”
Suddenly he was staring at her mouth, wishing he could wet her lips with his tongue. He took another drink of the claret. “Ah, what did you think of that one?”
“It was nice, I suppose. I should probably try the next one so that I have something to compare it to.” She sampled the second glass, and Constantine did the same.
“Clarets are a blend of different grapes from the Burgundy region of France. The first two have been in the cellar for some time, but the third one, I admit, was smuggled last year.”
She gave him a sly look. “I never would have guessed you would purchase smuggled wine. You are so very proper.”
“Occasionally, I allow myself to indulge.” He winked at her and couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so. Had he ever winked at anyone before?
“This must be a very good wine.” She plucked up the third glass and sipped. “Oh, that is lovely. I would describe it as velvety. It’s very soft against my tongue.”
Did she have any idea what her words were doing to him? He was half-erect already. Shifting in his chair, he took a drink, already knowing it was his favorite of the three reds. “Velvety is exactly the word I would use. I think we should have a few bites before we continue.”
“Allow me. But first, let me set this card aside.” She plucked up the third claret card and set it to the left of her place so that it was between them. Standing, she put together two plates of the various foods.
Constantine continued to take pleasure in watching her. This simple task she performed was incredibly domestic and somehow also incredibly arousing. Perhaps he should stop looking at her backside as she bent over the table. “I wanted to tell you that my father has agreed to allow you to assume the responsibilities of sponsor for my sister.”
Sabrina dropped a wedge of apple on the tablecloth, her gaze snapping to Constantine’s. “He did?”
“Aren’t you pleased?” He couldn’t tell, particularly since her eyes had darkened with what he thought was fear.
“I am, though I confess I am astonished that he agreed. I expected him to refuse.” She picked up the apple and put it on the plate before setting it in front of Constantine.
He wouldn’t tell her that he was also surprised or that he’d negotiated for it to happen. “The transition will take place Monday. In the meantime, you must call on Cassandra tomorrow to review her calendar and strategize.”
The fear he’d glimpsed a moment ago flashed back. She busied herself finishing her plate. “The strategy is with regard to finding a husband?”
“That is my father’s primary objective.” And perhaps his only one, at least as far as Cassandra was concerned. With Constantine, the duke had wanted him wed, but, more importantly, he wanted him ready for the dukedom and weighted with the necessary sense of propriety and duty. His goals for Lucien were less concrete. Indeed, Constantine wasn’t entirely sure what their father expected of his middle child.
What he did know, however, was that happiness or contentment didn’t seem to be of interest to their father.
Sabrina retook her seat and picked up a piece of white cheese. “I will do my best to ensure Cassandra is settled with due haste. To her satisfaction, of course.” She glanced toward him, her shoulders hunched, making her appear nervous.
“We are in agreement on that.” He wanted to allay her concerns. There was no use in asking if she truly wanted to take this on. It was too late. The commitment had been made, and to withdraw now would only irritate his father. It would also confirm his low expectations, and Constantine would move heaven and earth to ensure Sabrina exceeded them. “I’m afraid it will be challen
ging to support Cassandra in the way you must while also adhering to my father’s demands. We will all present a united front if trouble arises.”
Her shoulders straightened, and he hoped that meant she felt better. “What sort of trouble?”
He swallowed a bite of cheese. “In the event Cassandra doesn’t find anyone she wishes to marry this Season. I won’t let him force her, not like he and your parents did with us.”
Their eyes met, and in hers he saw gratitude and something else he couldn’t precisely define. Warmth spread through him, and he abruptly returned his attention to the wine. “There are three kinds of white wines—all hock, which is from Germany. The first one is the youngest and will be the least sweet. The next one is sweeter and the last is the sweetest of all. As I said, they have a lower level of alcohol. So if you like them, you could rest easy that you could drink it throughout dinner and not become inebriated.”
“No wonder so many ladies prefer it. I’ve tried it, of course, but I didn’t realize there was a variation in sweetness. I don’t know that I would have ever called it sweet based on my experience.”
“If you’ve only ever had them with meals, you would likely have had the less sweet version.” He smiled as he lifted the first of the hocks. “See what you think after you sample these.”
After trying the first glass, she seemed to think for a moment, her lips pursed. “I’m not sure I like that. Perhaps it is better with food.” She bit into an apple wedge. “That is preferable. In fact, I now think I’ve had this particular hock before at a dinner somewhere.”
“Speaking of dinner, the Brightlys have invited us to dine with them Wednesday evening. I hope you don’t mind, but I accepted. If you have a conflicting engagement—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish before she shook her head. “No, nothing. That sounds lovely. I so enjoy Mrs. Brightly.”
“The sentiment is mutual. She is quite looking forward to it, according to Brightly.” He finished the first glass of hock. “I suppose we should try to coordinate our social engagements.”
Her brow creased, which was a usual occurrence during their acquaintance, but less, he noticed, since she’d come to town. “Because of last night? I notice you haven’t asked me about the assembly.”
No, he hadn’t. In part, that was because he’d been too focused on what had happened later in the evening. “I should have done. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I did. The club is beautiful.”
Constantine didn’t tell her he’d harangued his brother for an invitation. She didn’t need to see the depth of his jealousy. The emotion reared its nasty head once more as he imagined her dancing beneath the sparkling chandeliers. He knew his brother had spared no expense with the club’s decoration, a fact that drove their father mad with fury.
He drank the entirety of the middle hock in one swallow. “See if you like that one.”
She sampled it but seemed preoccupied with him as her gaze kept straying in his direction. “That’s very good. I hope you know that I regret we weren’t able to go together last night. I’m attending another ball tonight. Will you be able to accompany me?”
There was a note of hope in her voice that drove the jealousy from his mind. “I’m afraid I have an appointment I can’t miss, a strategizing session at a colleague’s house.”
“Of course. You are so very busy with important work.” She smiled briefly before tasting the third hock. “I rather like that. I could drink far more than would be necessary.” The card went immediately to her left to join the claret card.
Constantine nearly laughed. “That is often the way with alcohol. Perhaps I can join you at the ball later? Where is it?”
“Lord and Lady Hargrove are hosting.”
“I shall do my best. Starting next week, I will ensure I attend the same events as you and Cassandra. I have tried to appear alongside my sister, but now I have even more reason to do so.”
She stared at him, and the air between them seemed to thicken. “Why, because I’m there?”
“Yes.” He picked up the first wine in the back row. “This and the next are madeiras, then two sherries, a port, and lastly, a marsala.”
She sampled the first madeira, doing what she’d said and taking a very small amount. Her eyes shuttered, and she took another, longer sip. When she opened her eyes, he saw joy. “Oh, that is very good.” Off the card went into the pile of favorites.
“I think you might be in trouble,” he said, smiling. “I’m afraid the next one is even better. At least in my opinion.” He moved on to the second madeira.
Sabrina brought the second glass to her lips and took another tiny sip. Her brows flew up, and she sampled more. “Oh dear.” Picking up the card, she set it neatly atop the growing stack to her left. “That really is splendid. I’d like to drink the rest of it, but I shan’t. Perhaps I won’t like the remaining wines and then I can come back to it.”
Constantine suspected she was going to like all the fortified wines. It was hard not to. But like her, he was careful not to overindulge. This was yet another trait he owed to his father. Except sometimes he did like to indulge, as he’d told her earlier. Suddenly, he wanted to drink all the fortified wine and pour additional glasses of their favorites. He and Sabrina could become quite drunk, and he imagined their conversation—and perhaps their inhibitions—would become loose and open.
“I knew I liked madeira, but I haven’t had it often,” she said. “It’s good to taste these like this. I’m able to differentiate between all of them, which will help me decide what to drink in the future. Everyone should do this before they enter Society.”
Constantine tasted the first sherry, and she joined him. Her lips twisted briefly as she seemed to contemplate the taste.
“You don’t like it?” he asked.
“I do, but not as much as the madeira.” Her features relaxed into an easy smile. He realized he was becoming more used to this version of her, where smiles and conversation didn’t seem laborious. “Thankfully.”
“Onto the next then.” He lifted the second sherry in a toast. “Sack was once considered the finest wine in the world.”
Sabrina held up her glass and squinted at the amber liquid. “I wonder where the name sack came from.” She tasted the wine and immediately took a longer sip. “Oh dear, that’s quite lovely too.”
“It derives from a Spanish word, I believe.” Constantine took another sip because she was right. It was delicious. “Drake brought a great supply of it to Queen Elizabeth, and we’ve been in love with it ever since.”
“Understandably.” She moved the second sherry’s card to the pile. “It seems I prefer the fortified wine to the regular.” Her features had creased as if this were a problem.
“Does that trouble you?”
“Apparently, I prefer the higher alcohol content. Does that mean I wish to get drunk?”
Constantine laughed. “I think it’s because it’s sweeter overall. Most people prefer it. But yes, it also gives you a nice, warm feeling rather quickly, don’t you think?”
She’d frozen, her hand hovering above the glass of port. “You’ve never done that before,” she whispered.
He frowned, slightly alarmed by her expression and tone. “What?”
“Laughed.”
“Of course I’ve laughed.”
She shook her head gently. “Not with me.” She lifted the glass of port and took the longest drink yet, as if she’d forgotten they were supposed to be tasting and not just drinking.
Constantine snatched up his port and downed the entire thing. It was his favorite port, and frankly, he needed a bit of fortification in that moment.
He’d never laughed with her. That should surprise him, disappoint him—and it did. But mostly it made him sad and angry at himself for being so damned uptight. For the first time, he understood why his brother harassed him about having a stick up his arse.
“What do you think of the port?” His voice sounded as if it had collecte
d dust in an attic the past fifty years.
“I like it a great deal.” Her gaze was fixed on his, and for a moment, he thought she meant him.
“It’s my favorite,” he murmured, wondering if he was referring to the wine or the incomparable woman before him. He may have married the woman his father chose, but he began to wonder if he might have selected her himself if they’d been given the chance to properly court.
That’s what he was doing. This was courtship, not seduction. The latter would come, but the former was more important. It was why he didn’t reach for her now.
“Is the port going into your pile then?”
She blinked and the spell, or whatever it was between them, faded. “Most definitely.” She transferred the card. “Down to the last one, I suppose. Which is for the best, because I am feeling rather…warm, as you said. And tingly.” She shook her shoulders and arms as if a great shiver had passed over her. Then she smiled, and he was utterly convinced the sun was not just in her pocket but at her command.
“Shall we finish then?” he asked, lifting his glass of marsala. “This is somewhat like a white grape version of port. Let’s see which you prefer.”
“This is the one wine on the table I have never had.” She brought the glass to her mouth and took a very small amount. Perhaps just enough to wet her lips, as she’d indicated, because her tongue licked along them, capturing the wine and drawing it into her mouth. Constantine couldn’t have looked away from her if his life depended on it. Rather, it felt as if his life, his livelihood, his very breath relied upon her lush pink lips.
He wanted nothing more than to put his mouth on hers and lose himself in her velvety softness. Instead, he drank the entire glass of marsala and looked to the sideboard where all the bottles and decanters stood. When he turned his head back toward Sabrina, it was to see her finishing the glass.
She moved the marsala card to the favorites pile and declared, “The best of the lot. I fear I’m ruined for other wines.”
“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.
