Dinner was a dreadfully dull affair from James's perspective. He had to spend the entire evening next to a young woman of his acquaintance, Miss Venetia Sharpe. She was a nice enough girl, but her naked ambitions always sent him running. He had no desire to marry a woman who would push him into a political career because it would further elevate her own status.
He sought out Gillian farther down the table, and their gazes briefly locked. He smiled at her as he remembered how they'd made love in the meadow. A blush reddened her cheeks, and she returned his smile, although she soon ducked her head and turned to speak with her companion.
"My lord?" Venetia leaned closer, her perfumed scent distracting. It wasn't unpleasant, by any means, but it wasn't Gillian's sweet scent of rosewater and something feminine and natural.