I stood in the dining room doorway, surveying the table with a critical eye. The candles were lit, casting a warm glow over the fine china and crystal. Despite the awkwardness following the whiskey incident, I'd convinced Alaric that maintaining the dinner invitation would be best for Alistair's spirits.
"Is everything to your satisfaction, Your Grace?" a maid asked, adjusting the placement of a fork.
"It's perfect," I replied, touching the delicate flower arrangement at the center of the table.
Footsteps approached from behind, and I felt Alaric's presence before his hand settled on my waist. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, "Are you certain about this dinner? I'm still tempted to throw Ashworth out for helping himself to my whiskey."
I turned to face him, smoothing my hands over his impeccably tailored jacket. "Be nice. They've both apologized, and Alistair is looking forward to the company."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Miss Ainsworth's comments were inexcusable."
