countered by her mother’s curt stare. Miss Stokely-Trent quizzed him unmercifully. Ruby told herself not to feel sorry for him.
When at last he made his way to their sides, his charming smile was a little frayed.
“Hollingsford,” he said with a nod.
“Mr. Calder, good to see you again,” her father replied. “You may remember my daughter, Ruby.”
Why would he remember Ruby? She certainly didn’t remember him, though apparently he knew her father. Before Ruby could question either of them, the other man bowed to her. “A pleasure, Miss Hollingsford.”
Ruby inclined her head as he straightened. “And how do you know my father, Mr. Calder?”
He paled, but her father clapped him on one broad shoulder. “Business,” her father said and by his refusal to say more, Ruby knew that Mr. Calder had likely had to sell some jewel of great personal value to pay his bills.
Mr. Calder managed a smile. “I am in your father’s debt, and I will be forever in my cousin’s debt for inviting me to bask in the glory of three such lovely creatures.”
He said it as if he knew he had no hope of attracting any of them. Ruby couldn’t help trying to raise his spirits. “Oh, did your cousin catch so many fish today?” she teased.
He chuckled. “Ah, a wit, as well. I can see I shall have to be on my toes. But tell me, how do you know my cousin?”
Ruby glanced at her father, brow raised.
“Never met him until today,” her father proclaimed. “But he must have seen my Ruby at some social function else he wouldn’t have invited her.”
Ruby wasn’t convinced. She’d never seen the earl or his cousin at any event. But then, she ran in different circles. Her literary club comprised women who had either inherited money from trade or were independent, like her friend Miss Eugenia Welch. When she went out of an evening, it was most often with her father and his acquaintances.
Still, because she’d attended the prestigious Barnsley School for Young Ladies in Somerset, she knew any number of women currently on the ton. Unfortunately, some of her former classmates still snubbed her. They certainly had never mentioned her to the earl.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Lord Danning appeared in the doorway. His golden hair mirrored the candlelight. The diamond stickpin in his cravat sparkled. His smile of welcome included everyone in the room as he glanced about. She found herself wondering when the portrait painter would arrive.
Then his gaze met hers, and his smile deepened.
Ruby felt her face heating and raised her chin. Oh, no. He would not find her as easy to catch as his fish.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” he said, strolling into the room, “welcome to Fern Lodge. You were kind to accept the invitation. Join me for dinner, and we can discuss plans for the fortnight.” He held out his arm. “Lady Wesworth, if I may?”
Funny. Ruby wouldn’t have thought the earl such a stickler for propriety, not having met him in rough clothing on the riverbank. By the looks that crossed Lady Amelia’s and Henrietta Stokely-Trent’s faces, they’d also expected him to offer for someone other than the highest-ranking woman in the room. Had he meant what he’d said earlier, when he’d claimed he was truly not seeking a wife? If so, perhaps it wasn’t so much good manners as self-preservation that made him escort Lady Wesworth rather than any of the young ladies he’d invited to court. But if he was not seeking a bride, why invite them all in the first place? Just to amuse himself with their reactions?
The other pairings were nearly as interesting. Mr. Calder eyed Ruby, but she anchored herself to her father, and he excused himself to offer Lady Amelia his arm. Henrietta Stokely-Trent looked even more annoyed because she had to walk with her father and mother. The posturing for position at the table was nearly as laughable, with parents and offspring colliding and glowering at each other. Ruby wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or amused when Henrietta Stokely-Trent seated herself next to Ruby near the end of the table.
Of course, none of them had much choice. The Lodge, while decorated in sumptuous materials, was clearly meant for a retreat, not to host so many people. The mahogany table had been extended its full length to accommodate them all, and the high back on the earl’s chair said it belonged elsewhere in the house. Still the polished wood of the table mirrored the shine of the pristine china plates, silver service and porcelain platters of the dozen dishes the chef had produced for their delight.
One nice thing about Ruby’s vantage point near the end of the table, however, was that it gave her a good view of the earl. He seemed pleasant, answering Mr. Stokely-Trent’s imperious question about a bill coming up in Parliament as easily as Lady Wesworth’s lament that there were no pickled beets to accompany the meal.
Indeed, he chatted easily with Lady Amelia and her mother on either side, making sure they were given choice portions of the salmon and duck, smiling at their sallies. But she saw no spark, no furtive glance, no touch of hands as he passed the platters, to indicate that he had any feelings for the lady.
“An interesting gentleman,” Henrietta Stokely-Trent said as if she’d noticed the direction of Ruby’s gaze.
Ruby offered her a smile. “Have you known him long, then?”
“We’ve met several times this Season.” She lifted a forkful of the duck. “He’s reasonably intelligent, well read, with opinions of his own on any number of topics. Where did you meet?”
“On the riverbank this afternoon,” Ruby supplied, “on my way to the Lodge. But he sent the invitation earlier.”
Miss Stokely-Trent frowned. “Why would he invite you if you’d never met? Is he a friend of your father’s?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Ruby replied, looking across the table to where her father was regaling Mrs. Stokely-Trent with one of his tales. By the way the lady’s mouth was pursed in an O, Ruby would likely need to apologize at some point.
“Surely I can be of assistance, Miss Stokely-Trent,” said Mr. Calder on her other side, smiling winsomely. “Perhaps some more of the duck?” Henrietta turned her attention to him.
Ruby was just as glad to be left alone with her thoughts. There had to be a reason she and her father had been included in the earl’s invitation. But for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why.
* * *
Whit was also feeling the dining room a bit crowded as the visiting footmen brought in the second course. When he was in residence, he generally made use of Mr. Hennessy’s skills to serve rather than bothering with footmen. And he only ate a single course. If he’d been fortunate, it was of the fish he’d caught. But with a house full of guests, his chef had obviously determined that something more substantial was needed. And Whit had never been one to argue with strawberry trifle.
“So what do you plan for us, my lord?” Mr. Stokely-Trent asked from midtable, leaning back in his seat to rest his hands over the paunch of his stomach.
They all regarded Whit with interest. For some reason, he found his gaze centered on Miss Hollingsford near the end of the table. He hadn’t been sure of the color of her hair inside her bonnet as they’d stood by the river that afternoon, but when they’d met on the stairs earlier, he
