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jellied mixture that was neither sweet, salty, nor bitter. In fact, it was fairly tasteless and felt loose and insubstantial on her tongue. Elise tasted it, before putting down her spoon. Beside her, the duke devoured it. That course then was removed and everyone was served a hard, cold, blackened roll. Elise pulled off a bite, nibbled on it, and set it back down. They had baked large wheat kernels into the bread, making a crunchy texture that was tart tasting. Elise slid the bite about her mouth before swallowing. Beside her, she felt, rather than saw, the duke devouring that course as well. She didn’t know why she cared to note what he ate, or how he did it. He hadn’t grown to the size he was without eating.
    The next course was a small Fillet of Whiting in a cream sauce. She toyed with the sauce, dribbling it over the fish, before bringing it to her mouth. It was perfectly seasoned with mushrooms and garlic pepper, and it was served at the correct temperature. The fish melted where it sat on her tongue. Elise couldn’t remember having such sensations with food before, and then the man at her side opened his mouth and put a halt to the dreamlike sequence of it all.
    “You eat less than a bairn,” he said, startling her.
    Elise slid her glance sideways, taking in the perfectly cut and tailored jacket, the crisply starched cravat, and now that she was so close, she could see his eyes sparkled with flecks of green highlights. She swallowed.
    “Most gentlemen wouldn’t remark on such a thing, Your Grace,” she replied.
    “Most men you’ve been around were na’ gentlemen.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “You always say that. I doona’ think you know what it means.”
    “I beg—” She stopped the exclamation herself.
    “See?” His lips twitched. “I believe begging someone’s pardon means you wish the words repeated because you can na’ believe you heard them right the first time. True?”
    She lifted a shoulder and felt the rubies slide across her breasts with the motion. She watched his glance flick there before returning to her face. Shivers accompanied it.
    “So why beg it of me? You heard it right the first time.”
    “Your words are insulting. You’re insulting.”
    His eyebrows lifted. “Am I now?”
    “I’m beginning to think you take great pride in it, too.”
    “If I do, it’s your fault.”
    “Mine?” She asked it with a bit of incredulity to her voice, and then she asked it again with more conviction. “Mine?”
    “You specifically requested to have me placed right next to you this evening. Our host told me of it. For the life of me I can na’ imagine why. Oh, yes, I do. It was to make your lover jealous.”
    Elise’s eyes widened, but she caught the gasp as he leaned toward her to whisper the rest of it.
    “You need na’ bother. He looked jealous enough already.”
    Servants were removing the whiting and the duke had to lean away so they could do so. Elise turned forward and reached for her wineglass. They had served a Chablis. It was excellent with fish, she decided, letting the swallow linger in her mouth to rinse and refresh it.
    “You like these society things?” he asked, when all she did was studiously look at the centerpiece of roses.
    She put her goblet down in time for the servants to remove it. They were getting ready to serve the beef. That called for a wine change to a Bordeaux. She waited until it was poured to turn back to him. She didn’t have any other recourse. Roald was still noticeably absent from his assigned seating, and Colin was ignoring the woman on his other side, giving Elise his undivided attention. To do anything other than converse civilly, when he was making this effort, would be déclassé.
    “In what context?” she asked finally.
    “These dinners. These clothes. The jewels. The flowers. The candlelight. The conversation. The funds expended on it all. Ambiance. That sort of thing.”
    Elise sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t enjoy