Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

“Most fetching,” John agreed, nodding to both ladies.

“I fear that Frances has quite outdone me,” Alicia said provocatively, her eyes twinkling at Hawk.

“She has outdone all of us, it would seem,” Hawk said to no one in particular.

Frances knew her hands were sweaty and she rubbed them on her skirt. She looked up to see Hawk gazing at her with such a knowing look that she wanted to strike him.

“Ah, Otis!” Her relief at the butler’s presence was as palpable as a Christian being rescued from the lions.

“Dinner is served, my lady.”

Hawk proffered his wife his arm. She looked at it like it was a snake. “Frances,” he said very quietly, but she heard the warning, indeed she did. She thrust up her chin and lightly laid her hand on his arm.

“My dear wife,” Hawk said after he had seated Frances, “has doubtless ordered up my favorite dishes. She is so very delighted at my homecoming.”

There was dead silence. Otis hovered. The three footmen looked blank. Otis had trained them well. In fact, he had particularly threatened them for this evening.

“Aren’t you, my dear?” At her grim silence, he added, “Delighted to see me, that is.”

“The soup, if you please, Otis,” Frances said, ignoring him. “Julienne,” she added as the footmen served.

“My favorite,” Hawk said fondly. “Such a caring wife.”

“It is John’s favorite,” Frances said.

“Yes, indeed it is,” Alicia added, and quickly spooned a mouthful to keep herself from giggling. Poor Frances!

Only the sound of spoons dipping in and out of their bowls broke the silence.

Hawk said, “My dear wife has quite charmed all the staff. I have nothing to do save bask in her adoration.”

Frances’ spoon hit her bowl and some delicious julienne soup splashed onto the white tablecloth.

A footman rushed forward, and tripped against her chair.

Otis drew up stiff as a poker.

“It is all right,” Frances said quickly. “No harm done.”

“John was telling me all about his draining problems,” Hawk said.

“A subject doubtless close to your heart,” said Frances, her voice so acid it would have curdled the soup.

“Indeed,” Hawk said blandly. “I am always most interested in problems, of all sorts. There are usually so many solutions available to one. It is just a choice of selecting the most appropriate, don’t you agree, Frances?”

He is doing me in quite well, Frances thought, her lips tight. I can’t allow him to continue. She raised her face and met his eyes head-on, saying in a clear, honeyed voice, “I have found that to be true, particularly in running this estate. Marcus”—her voice softened markedly—“he is such a help! Such insight from a man so young.”

Hawk froze, frowning before he could stop himself.

Alicia said quickly, “Our steward is equally efficient. I was just telling John the other day—” She broke off abruptly, sending a heartfelt glance toward Otis, who was serving fried whiting and red mullet.

“How is Beatrice, Hawk?” Alicia asked. “And her betrothed, Lord Chalmers?”

?

??She is as she always was, perhaps more so,” Hawk said easily, gently setting down his fork. He looked toward his wife. “I believe that Edmund Lacy will handle her quite well, however, after they are wed. It is a husband’s responsibility, after all, to see that his wife heeds his wishes, and he sees to her well-being. Don’t you agree, Frances?”

Frances raised her empty wineglass and it was immediately filled by Otis.