12
Martin took his time dressing for dinner. He couldn’t shake the flutter of nerves he felt as Byrd finished folding his cravat.
“Everything all right, sir?” his valet inquired.
“Yes, of course, why do you ask?”
“Well…you’re fidgeting.” Byrd chuckled. “Most unusual for you, sir.”
“I…” Martin swallowed, embarrassed at being so transparent. “I admit I’m a little nervous.”
“Perhaps you are falling for Miss Hartwell?” Byrd asked as he finished with the cravat and stepped back to check his work.
Martin nearly growled. He didn’t love the daughter of the man he’d sworn to hate. He could admit he liked her, was attracted to her, but falling in love?
“It’s not love, it’s an infatuation at best, but it does seem to have me in knots.” He studied his appearance critically in the mirror. His b
