team, Angelstone and her godson, Hayden, on the other.
The game broke up when the food arrived, carried down from the house by an army of servants. The men dropped their bat and ball and joined the ladies at the table in the summerhouse, each team grumbling about the other while they piled their plates high.
When the meal was over Lady Morpeth eyed her husband and asked slyly, âDo you know what we all need, Rupert dear? A nice cooling trip out onto the lake.â She sighed, and fanned herself with one hand for emphasis. Her husband smiled back indulgently, rising and extending one hand to his wife.
Somercote turned his gaze to George, raising his brows inquiringly, and without a word she allowed him to tug her up and sweep her off towards the punts.
Lady Morpeth, her arm resting securely in the crook of her husbandâs, paused for a moment, and looking back, said almost offhandedly, âMiss Mowbray, you should join us.â She glanced around, seemingly without purpose. âNow let me seeâ¦Gabe, Miss Mowbray is in need of a companion for a little trip about the lake. Do be a gentleman and oblige her.â
Angelstone grinned before schooling his face into a more somber expression and offering his arm. Imogen hesitated momentarily, glancing about for help, but there was obviously none forthcoming. The Somercotes had already pushed off, and the duke was off playing with the children. If she wanted to avoid himâand the temptation he presentedâshe was going to end up causing just the sort of scene sheâd been working to avoid. Always being busy elsewhere was one thing, but flat out refusing to accompany him on something so mild as a trip out onto the lake was something else entirely.
âShall we, Miss Mowbray?â he prompted, just the slightest hint of a purr in his voice.
âCertainly,â Imogen replied, swallowing hard and trying to appear calm. She placed her hand on his arm, a slight shiver running through her as they made contact. She hated the fact that she reacted to him so; that his arrival in a room caused her breath to hitch, and made her fingers tingle. Hated the fact that she was disturbingly aware that only thin layers of kidskin and linen separated her hand and the bare skin of his arm. She could feel the muscles flex and move as he steered her towards the lake.
When they reached the end of the small dock he carefully handed her into one of the three remaining punts. He untied the small boat from its mooring, and leapt lightly down into it, causing her to gasp as the little boat swayed and sloshed. Grinning at her openly, he grabbed the pole and pushed off, heading in the opposite direction taken by the others. Imogen swiveled about, rocking the small boat. They were headed for the willow-shrouded right shore.
Overtly aware of her rapid pulse, and equally aware of its cause, Imogen settled back against the feather-stuffed sailcloth pad that occupied the front half of the punt and tried to concentrate on the light breeze blowing across the water, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the sound of the water lapping against the little boatâs sides.
She was certainly not going to allow her attention to rest too long on Angelstone. This outing was ridiculous. He looked like a pirate king, or a freebooter. It didnât help that he was looming over her, his shadow flitting across her with each sweep of the pole, sun glinting off the gold buttons and bullion trimming of his chamois waistcoat.
He planted the pole hard and used his hip to propel the boat through the curtain provided by the enormous weeping willows that grew along a goodly portion of the lakeshore. Imogen gasped when the trailing branches swept damply over her, and the temperature suddenly dropped as they slid into the shade.
She took several deep breaths. The air was damp here in the shade, almost like that of a cave. She glanced questioningly up at Angelstone. He was smiling down at her, his face