Page 18

“Would you like me to pour some tea?” she offered, motioning to the empty cup.

Mrs. Stone nodded. “Thank you, my dear. Do pour yourself one and join us. We were having the most interesting conversation.”

Angel topped up Mrs. Stone’s cup before turning her attention to Mr. Cartwright’s. She moved close so that the man may only need to lift his cup a fraction. It meant she could feel his gaze lingering on her waist and up, and he kept trying to catch her eye. It didn’t matter, though, so long as he was distracted.

She glanced at him, met his gaze, and held it. Then she poured quickly and deliberately, ensuring the tea completely missed the cup and splashed directly on his lap.

He jumped up swiftly and cursed under his breath though, loud enough for Angel to hear it. Unfortunately, she did not think Mrs. Stone had heard. But it didn’t matter. His breeches were soaked, and he looked as though he had suffered a rather unfortunate accident.

Angel clapped a hand over her mouth and feigned shock. Lowering the teapot to the table, she bunched up some napkins and shoved them toward Mr. Cartwright.

“Mr. Cartwright, you must forgive me. I apologize for my clumsiness.”

His cheeks were red, and she saw him take several breaths before responding. “That is quite all right, my lady. No doubt you were distracted.” His eyes warmed and lingered on hers.

Angel’s heart dropped to her toes. No, this was not what was meant to happen. He thought the reason she spilled it was because she was distracted by him.

Mrs. Stone laughed. “Oh we do tend to get into a mess in this house. I think Angel has been spending too much time with me.”

The door to the drawing room swung open and remained so as Mr. Hunter stepped into the room. Angel’s heart gave a little thud against her ribcage at the sight of him. Dressed impeccably, he put the uncomfortably pristine Mr. Cartwright to shame. Angel had still not quite fathomed the man, but there was no denying it, her heart gave little jigs every time he was near. And he seemed to be doing a lot less scolding this past week.

His gaze narrowed when he spotted Mr. Cartwright. A long brow rose when he spied the damp patch on his nether regions and the napkins Mr. Cartwright was furiously using to blot his breeches.

“Mr. Cartwright had an accident,” Angel explained sweetly.

“Indeed.” Mr. Hunter’s countenance remained expressionless.

Mr. Cartwright’s warm gaze snapped away from her, and she saw it again—that spark of anger that he kept trying to hide. The arrival of Mr. Hunter had unsettled him, and his cheeks reddened.

Mrs. Stone waved a hand. “Angel spilled a jot of tea on him. Nothing too dramatic.”

Mr. Hunter’s gaze struck hers. The slightest pull of his lips told her he understood her intentions behind the mishap. She had to force her lips to remain straight.

“Do stop fussing.” Mrs. Stone flapped both hands this time. “Why do we not continue our discussion? You shall dry off soon enough, Mr. Cartwright.”

Mr. Hunter folded his arms, drawing Angel’s attention to the breadth of his chest and no doubt forcing Mr. Cartwright’s to it too. She doubted Mr. Cartwright considered how wonderfully broad his shoulders were or how she could see his biceps pressing against the fabric of his clothes.

“I think Mr. Cartwright would be better off returning home and getting dry,” Mr. Hunter said taciturnly.

Angel nodded vigorously. “Is that buckskin? It shall stain horribly.” She lifted her gaze from his breeches lest he think she was looking for any other reason than being highly amused by the whole situation. Since the entrance of Mrs. Stone’s nephew, hischarmingcountenance kept slipping, but he’d caught her looking and that arrogant air had returned. The man was as changeable as the damned wind.

“You really should get home, Mr. Cartwright.” When he made no show of moving, Angel took his arm and began leading him out of the door.

“Yes, do go home.” Mr. Hunter followed them out.

“Oh this is nonsense,” Mrs. Stone protested. “Whoever fled because of a mere stain? Men these days!”

Angel ignored her and continued maneuvering the man toward the hallway. He came willingly and curled a hand over hers. “If you are keen to get me alone, Angel, I would happily oblige.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, we have company.”

She ignored himandthe use of her first name, that he said with elongated tones. The grip of his hand on hers and the press of his side as he drew her inappropriately close combined to make bile rise in her throat. She forced a breath through her nostrils. So long as she got him away from Mrs. Stone, itdid not matter what she had to tolerate—and with Mr. Hunter shadowing their steps, nothing untoward would happen.

Once they reached the front door, Angel pried her hand from his, still able to feel the bite of his fingers imprinted on the back of her hand. He donned his gloves and took his hat from the butler.

“Have a good day, Cartwright,” Mr. Hunter said when Mr. Cartwright lingered in the doorway.

“And you, Hunter. I admit, I was surprised to see you still here. Do you not have a lot of duties to which to attend? All that constituency business and whatnot.”

“I am fully able to manage my affairs from here.” Mr. Hunter clasped his hands behind his back. “And my aunt needs me at present. Her health is my absolute priority.”