For the first time in years she did not feel alone in a crowd, and the sensation was most disturbing. Her father was seated at the head of the long table, she at the seat to his right. Normally she would have taken the hostess's place at the opposite end of the table, but Cousin Kate had agreed to preside tonight. Honoria had wanted to be near her father while sharing a meal with Captain Derrick Russell. The plan had been to demonstrate to the duke that she carried no secret tender feelings for the man she had once been engaged to. James Marbury had not figured into her plans for the evening—not past a show of reasonable politeness to the man she had offended. Assigning him the place of honor to her right had seemed like a perfectly rational idea when the object of the exercise had been to make up for her rudeness. So, here she was, surrounded by the last men on earth she wanted to be with, and there was no way to escape them. Ignoring them was her only course. In Derrick's case this was easy enough, as her vision, the width of the table, and a large silver centerpiece effectively kept his golden countenance out of her sight.
