Gregory saw it in the fleeting look of scorn she cast him the moment before she bowed her good night. Then again, she was wearing spectacles, and the light from the candles in the entryway could have deceived him. Oh, who was he fooling? She was clearly upset. When she strode off with the footmen, her back to him, he sensed her bristling. “He’s a cheeky thing, isn’t he?” mused Lady Damara on his arm. “Not quite the usual valet.” “No, he’s not,” he murmured. Lady Damara yanked on his arm. “Let’s go back inside. They’re starting a game of whist.” “Right,” he said, feeling distracted. He was really in no mood to socialize. He longed to relax—to read, to unwind. And to talk to Pippa would be nice. But of course he couldn’t go to bed this early—not before midnight, at the least. He was surprised how much he liked knowing that Pippa would be in his dressing room, waiting— Actually, sleeping.
