She Hid Under a Table to Escape a Matchmaker — The Duke Was Already There
Chapter 2
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It was Thursday evening at Lethbury House. His younger brother was to marry her younger sister on Saturday. Gilbert had agreed to provide the house, the wedding breakfast, and whatever help might be needed. Daphne had arrived three days early to assist with the arrangements. Gilbert had returned from London only that afternoon. Their preparations so far had traveled through letters, lists, and the housekeeper. Neither had expected assistance to include finding a spouse for somebody else."Mr. Dunford is perfectly nice," she said, once her laughter had subsided. "That is the difficulty. I cannot object to him without sounding like a woman who dislikes virtue.""What does he do?""At present, he discusses his late wife's excellent preserves—a specialized form of courtship.""I don't think he knows he is courting.""Mama has progressed a great deal further than he has."Gilbert looked at the patch of light beneath the cloth. "Lady Marcia asked me about the weather. My mother has interpreted it as an interest in sharing my climate permanently."Daphne laughed again, more quietly. "We might simply say no.""An excellent proposal," he said. "Shall you go first?"She looked at him. "I see."They sat in chastened agreement. Daphne was 30 and had been congratulated for years on her good sense. Gilbert was 36 and could speak to a room full of tenants without consulting a note. Neither qualification had helped them refuse a small social arrangement before it acquired relatives."I don't intend to remain here all evening," she said."I should hope not. There are only two sandwiches left."She took one.There was a pause while they ate, listening for the return of shoes. Then Daphne reached for the edge of the cloth and caught it with the fastening at her wrist. A dish moved above them. They froze."What was that?" somebody asked."The cloth caught," a servant answered.Gilbert held the fabric steady while Daphne tried to free her cuff. The fastening refused. She looked at him with a sudden, desperate amusement."I could leave the arm. It might make the introductions awkward."He bent to look, freed the little hook, and returned her wrist with the care usually devoted to rescuing something fragile from a hedge. Her laughter stopped. His fingers were warm through the fine edge of her glove.Then somebody lifted the cloth. A footman looked at his employer, at the lady, and at the plate. His expression altered by almost nothing."Would your grace require another?"Gilbert looked down at the sandwich in his hand. "No, thank you.""Very good, your grace."The cloth descended. Daphne stared at the place where the footman's face had been. Then she bent forward, laughing so helplessly that Gilbert began laughing, too. It was several minutes before either was fit to appear at a wedding gathering.They left separately. Gilbert emerged first, carrying the plate as though he had been engaged in an ordinary inspection of supper. Daphne waited until he had gone, crawled out on the other side, and found Winnie standing by the door.