In the House of Secrets

Chapter Eleven | Beckett and Dinner

Beckett had not spent much time eating at dinner so far. It was challenging to eat when his fists were balled tightly at his sides.

Penelope had taken his directive to flirt with anyone but Lawton very seriously. She was quite seriously flirting with everyone. Everyone but Lawton, of course. Lawton looked on from the end of the table, looking as irritated as Beckett felt. Although Beckett certainly hoped he was doing a better job at hiding it.

He did not know why it bothered him so greatly. It sounded as though Penelope's husband had given her very little attention prior to his passing, and Beckett could not blame her for seeking companionship elsewhere. After all, Beckett was of the mind that humans needed connection now and again. But in a genuine manner. Not in this over-the-top, ridiculous dallying.

"Leo, darling, tell me again what the name of the opera was that you went to while in Paris."

Penelope flourished a hand as she spoke, leaning forward in a seemingly purposeful way to expose more of herself than Beckett liked. Well, that is to say, he liked it. He liked it quite a lot. But he did not like that everyone else liked it as well.

Farrington smiled from his spot beside Beckett, going along easily with the lack of formality at the table. Beckett's eyes flicked to Lady Farrington next to him, wondering how she felt about the way Penelope had drawled Leo at the dinner table as if that were proper.

Her lips were tilted at the corners as she politely watched Penelope. Not an ounce of irritation was detectable.

"Don Giovanni," Farrington said with an amused curl of his lip. He glanced sideways at his wife, and Beckett did not miss the lingering heat there when he looked her over. "It is one of our favorites."

When Lady Farrington looked over at him with an agreeable nod, her husband winked. She flushed and took a sip of her water.

Beckett could quite simply choke on the frivolity at the table tonight.

"Scarlett quite thought I was as devilish as Don Giovonni himself when I first went about earning her affection."

Penelope laughed at that, drawing everyone's attention. Not that it had ever really left her.

"And weren't you?"

Farrington drew in a sharp, mocking breath, clutching his chest. "Of course not."

An entertained little grin grew on Penelope's face before she leaned back in her chair again. Beckett practically felt the collective relief and regret from the men in the room.

She was too alluring, too divine not to be pulled in. Her dress tonight was a mossy green color and gauzy in a way that made her appear as though floating on a cloud. Or better yet, among the ocean waves. Penelope could put sirens to shame with her laughter.

Beckett groaned at the directions of his thoughts. What the devil was wrong with him?

"You alright over there, Colonel?"