“They are God’s creatures and have as much right as any of us to exist. As for controlling their numbers, how does that explain why when someone attends their first hunt—their first kill—and most of the time it’s a child—you cut off the fox’s brush and wipe its blood on the child’s cheek and call it an honor! Blooding a child! If that’s not barbaric, I don’t know what is.”

There was a short silence. She bit off a grape and crunched through the hard, sugary coating, then added in case he didn’t get the point, “I despise foxhunting and all who participate in it.”

His face was carved from granite, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold and flinty. She turned her face away and became aware that people were leaving the supper room. Thank goodness. This ordeal was over. She set her napkin aside.

He immediately rose and politely moved her chair out of her way. “A moment more of your time, if I may, Lady Georgiana.”

He’d taken up quite enough of her evening. “I’m sorry, I have an engagement for the next dance.”

“Your partner won’t mind. This won’t take a moment.”

“He won’t mind? I suppose you’ve fixed it so that he has relinquished his dance, too? How many more of my partners have you suborned?”

“Don’t be melodramatic. A quiet word in his ear was all that was required. The fellow went quite willingly.” He gave an infinitesimal shrug. “To the victor go the spoils.”

“I am not anyone’s spoils.”

His gaze moved over her in a leisurely sweep. “No, you’re not, are you?”

What did he mean by that? She didn’t know but she didn’t like his tone, or the way he looked at her, like a cat surveying his next dish of cream.

“How splendid to be you and have everyone fall in with your wishes,” she said sarcastically.

“It is, rather,” he agreed. “Now, show me where the library is.”

What did he want with the library? she wondered. But if that was what it took to get rid of him . . . “It’s along there.” She pointed.

He took her elbow in a light grip. “Show me.”

She glanced across at her family. Cal was helping Emm up from her chair, so tender and solicitous of his wife it caused a lump to rise in her throat. Rose was smiling up at Thomas, who looked stunned and a little preoccupied. Lily was already leaving the room, arm in arm with her Edward, oblivious of the fashion that husbands and wives should not live in each other’s pockets. Aunt Dottie was still happily eating and talking animatedly to her escort, a handsome, elderly gentleman.