Lady Carol was watching them, too, an acquisitive gleam in her eye. Did her mother hope for a match there? It would certainly be a wonderful thing if Charles were to bring a large dowry into the family—and it would solve a great many of their problems. Perhaps then, Tina wouldn’t need to marry Horace. Or Mr. Little.
Immediately she felt guilty.
Hadn’t she already decided it was her duty to marry, to save her family and make a good match? And of course Horace was her childhood sweetheart—although he’d never known it. What was the matter with her that she could so easily be turned from her chosen course?
Tina had never considered herself flighty. She was practical, levelheaded, and here she was behaving like a silly debutante. And it was all the fault of Richard Eversham.
The meal finished, Lady Carol rose to her feet. “Ladies, shall we leave the gentlemen to their cigars and brandy?”
They followed her into the drawing room. Tina found herself hemmed in by her two friends, eager to hear why the scandalous Mr. Eversham had been invited to dinner.
“I didn’t t
hink he was welcome in polite society,” Margaret said prissily. “His reputation!”
“But he’s very handsome.” Anne had a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t you think so, Tina?”
Tina did think so but was not about to say it aloud, not when she noticed her mother listening avidly as she commanded the pouring of the tea. “Mr. Eversham’s invitation was none of my doing,” Lady Carol said firmly, “and so you should tell your mother, Anne, if she makes a fuss.”
Anne didn’t appear perturbed. “My mother makes a great deal of fuss over nothing. It is because I am an heiress, Lady Carol. But I think it is interesting and exciting to meet people who are so different from oneself.”
“No, my dear,” reprimanded Lady Carol. “It is neither interesting nor exciting, and there is a very good reason why men like Mr. Eversham are kept away from young ladies such as you. They are not to be trusted.” She hesitated, finished pouring a cup, and handed it to a servant to carry to one of the guests. “Not like my Charles,” she went on with a fond smile. “He is a dear boy, not an untrustworthy bone in his body.”
Anne smiled back, eyes lowered, a flush in her cheeks.
The signs were there, Tina thought wryly, and her mother knew it. She only hoped she would be subtle and not upset the budding romance before it could begin to blossom.
“Mr. Little is an interesting gentleman.” Margaret took a studied sip of her tea. “He was telling me about his tobacco. It is all very complicated, you know.” Something in the way Margaret avoided their eyes made it obvious the girl was infatuated.
Oh dear, thought Tina, secretly relieved. I’ve lost Mr. Little. Well, Mr. Eversham or no Mr. Eversham, somehow I must get Horace alone tonight and kiss him.
Richard spent an uncomfortable twenty minutes in the library, with Lord Horace making pointed remarks about gentlemen who were not gentlemen, Sir Thomas looking embarrassed, and Sir Henry enjoying it all immensely.
“You wanted to come,” he murmured to Richard, when the conversation had finally taken another turn.
“I didn’t expect to be such a hit,” Richard said wryly.
Sir Henry chuckled and puffed on his cigar before he replied. “I think it has worked out very well. Gilfoyle loathes you, and we’ve seen he is the sort of chap who doesn’t bother hiding his feelings. Hotheaded I’d say. As for Little, he is a bit of a mystery man, isn’t he? I’m not sure I believe the meek-and-mild act. Do you?”
“I think he is here because he has an interest in Miss Smythe,” Richard said coolly.
“Oh?” Sir Henry was watching him, but Richard refused to meet his eyes. “And do you think that interest is reciprocated?”
Did he? Instinctively Richard decided he didn’t, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. When Tina had met his eyes over dinner, while Sir Henry’s wife was rattling Lady Carol, he’d felt as if he’d found a kindred spirit. Someone who was enjoying the ridiculous humor in the situation as much as he, someone he could always rely on to understand perfectly how he was feeling, just as he understood how she was feeling.
Dangerous, very dangerous. Thinking like that could only get him into trouble.
“Anyway, at least we have a clearer picture of the men we’re dealing with,” Sir Henry went on without expecting an answer. “If one of them turned out to be the Captain, then I’d put my money on Gilfoyle.”
Despite his dislike of the man Richard wasn’t so certain. Gilfoyle was certainly a hothead, but it was men like Little, quiet and unobtrusive, who needed to be watched.
When they joined the ladies, he was amused to see Tina reluctantly seat herself at the pianoforte at her mother’s prompting. Lady Carol was smiling at her daughter fondly, looking very different from the cold-eyed creature who had greeted him. But then he couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her daughter well away from the scandalous rogue who’d weaseled his way into her home.
Although Tina was a competent if not brilliant pianist, it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. Richard watched narrow-eyed as Gilfoyle sauntered over to claim the spot next to her, launching into a song in a pleasing tenor. Tina and Gilfoyle exchanged smiles as he turned the pages for her. Little wandered over and stood behind them, waving away their invitations to join in, claiming his voice was unfit for such illustrious company.
“Your singing has much improved while you’ve been away,” Horace said to Tina with unflattering candor. “It was dreadful at one stage—like a cat screeching.”
“Thank you, Horace,” she said with grave humor.