Lucas opened his mouth to answer, probably with a polite, evasive phrase that would put the two women to rest until dessert, but the scent that hit him from the platter Serathine's staff had just set down derailed every coherent thought he'd ever had.
It was something rich and buttery, maybe truffle or garlic, but all he could process was that it smelled wrong.
Horribly, stomach-turningly wrong.
He made a valiant attempt to hold his expression, but his face betrayed him before his manners did. His nose twitched, his eyes watered, and then, absolutely mortifyingly, he gagged.
Trevor reacted first, half-rising with an instinct that was equal parts alarm and helpless amusement. "Oh, brilliant timing," he muttered under his breath, sliding the offending dish out of reach.
Cressida's fork paused mid-air, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as the sound registered. "Good lord," she said dryly, "is someone dying or just objecting to dinner?"
