What was he doing here?
When she first saw him, she thought she was seeing a ghost. Indeed, she’d been struck dumb by the sight of him in her familiar surroundings. It was all very well to imagine him by her side, but for him to be here, in flesh and blood . . . She was still shaken by his presence. Had he come to help her win over Horace? Did he really think she could remember any of his instructions, let alone put them into practice, while he was observing her with those warm gray eyes?
It was a nightmare.
If only she could get him alone, to question him, but her mother was watching her like a hawk.
His being here is going to ruin everything.
Lady Carol led them in to dinner, where they all took their places around the long, mahogany table. Tina found herself seated between Horace and John Little while Anne was between Horace and Charles, and Margaret sat on John’s other side. She was surrounded by friends, she reminded herself, and Richard Eversham was far, far away at the other end of the table.
But she was aware of him. No matter how she tried to pretend he wasn’t there, his presence colored everything around her.
He had kissed her. And she had asked him to do it again! What if her mother were to find out? What if he were to tell her? What if people could see it just from looking at the two of them?
She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. This was getting ridiculous. He would never tell, and neither would s
he. No one would know, no one could know. Her connection with him was a secret between him and her.
“Miss Smythe, are you feeling faint? You are very pale this evening.” It was John Little, wearing a worried frown as he peered into her face.
Mr. Little seemed determined to claim her attention. He was a nice enough man, but she wasn’t attracted to him; if anything, she felt a little sorry for him.
Tina gave a nervous laugh. “Actually I am famished. Should a well-brought-up lady admit to such a thing?”
He smiled back, his blue eyes twinkling, as if he found her completely captivating.
“Didn’t finishing school teach you the answer to that?” Horace put in. He’d obviously been listening. “ ’Though I’d be sorry if it polished too much of the old Tina from you. Girls are all the same these days, and you are refreshingly different.”
Had Horace offered her a compliment?
“I doubt anyone could change our plainspoken Tina,” Anne teased. “And like Horace I would hate to think she had become like all the other young ladies in London society.”
Charles laughed, too, and something about the way he was looking at Anne tugged at Tina’s attention, but then Lady Isabelle Arlington interrupted, and she forgot it.
“The notion that a girl needs to be ‘finished’ before she is of marriageable material is quite absurd.”
There was a hush, as there usually was when the eccentric Lady Isabelle expressed her opinion in company. She had insulted so many people that it was only her aristocratic family connections and her wealth that ensured her continued welcome in society.
“I’m sure ‘absurd’ is too harsh a word,” Lady Carol said, her face stiff with disapproval. “Tina has learned a great deal from attending Miss Debenham’s. The establishment has a fine reputation, and many of its young ladies have risen high in society.”
“You might as well put a placard on them. Sold to the highest bidder.”
Tina choked back a giggle. Because Lady Isabelle really had gone too far this time, and she could see her mother was almost bursting to say aloud the unflattering things she was thinking. Lady Carol cast a glance at Sir Thomas that promised “words” later on. It was he who had invited Sir Henry and Lady Isabelle. And Mr. Eversham as well!
As if the thought of him had made the sight of him irresistible, Tina found her gaze seeking him out, way down the table. She had to know what Mr. Eversham thought of this conversation.
Chapter 12
He was looking right back at her, his gray eyes warm and smiling, his handsome face alight with enjoyment. She realized then, with a leap of her heart, that he had sought her out, too, and they were sharing a special moment. Tina relished it, knowing that for this fraction of time she and Mr. Eversham were in perfect harmony. But a heartbeat later she came to her senses and looked down at her soup, the color rising to her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifted the spoon.
“My dear.” Sir Henry, with his deep, measured tones, was used to calming the agitated atmosphere around his wife. “We all know your views on the marriage mart, but there have been some very happy marriages made without the participants feeling more than a modicum of affection for each other.”
“But without love,” Lady Isabelle declared dramatically, “we never truly live.”
There were some hastily disguised sniggers around the table.
“My dear,” her husband insisted, a warning in his eyes.