Margorie was creeping around the table, removing the empty soup bowls. Then she served the next course, a thick stew with small pieces of meat, swedes and carrots.
“Gaargh! Rabbit again!”
Mr. Shawcroft shoved his plate away, pushing it roughly across the polished table.
“Thank goodness, we shall all enjoy a better dinner tomorrow when we arrive at Rouston Hall.”
He now looked across at Dorianna and smiled his lopsided smile.
“I trust you’ll mind your manners when we arrive,” he advised. “You may be pretty and a fair-haired woman is always a distinct bonus when it comes to match-making, but Buxton won’t stand for any nonsense.”
Dorianna felt a chill run down her spine.
“I am quite sure that I have never been anything but polite to Lord Buxton,” she retorted.
“Ha!”
Mr. Shawcroft’
