“Richard,” she said, and he had no option but to bow over her hand and ask how Sir Henry did.
Her smile dimmed. “He is sitting up and eating broth,” she murmured, “but that is not what you want me to say, is it? He is meant to be unconscious, close to death.” Her eyes searched his.
“Yes, that is what you must say,” he agreed quietly. “He is well guarded in his room. If anyone tries again, we’ll catch him.”
“He can’t stay there indefinitely.”
“No. I think he will wake tomorrow,” Richard said thoughtfully.
“This is all so awful,” she began, but caught herself and gave a little shake of her head. “Never mind. You must enjoy yourself, Richard. I have gone to a great deal of trouble to make this ball a success and so it must be. There are people from all over the county, and Mr. Freer, who is dancing with Miss Smythe, is from America!”
Richard looked over at the couple, who appeared to be enjoying each other’s company. He found himself wishing they were miserable.
“Really, America?” he repeated, as she’d meant him to.
“In confidence, Richard, he is here to find an English wife. He is rather taken with the English and says only an English wife will do. So I am on the lookout. I wondered whether Tina might be the one for him. Though she is very beautiful, and I’m sure she has many admirers. A middle-aged American might not be what she wants, despite his being obscenely rich.”
“Has she many admirers?” he said idly, as if the idea were new to him and of no real interest.
But something must have given him away because Isabelle’s gaze sharpened, and her tone grew tart. “Why Richard! Are you jealous? I always thought your heart was made of stone.”
He bowed again. “And so it is,” he assured her. “Granite, in fact.”
Her laughter followed him as he went to seek a partner from among the other women. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve indeed if Lady Isabelle had noticed; he must be more careful. Sir Henry was upstairs as bait, and Richard must have his wits about him tonight, just in case another attempt was made on his commander’s life.
Tina had hoped Richard might dance with her, but so far he seemed to have made it his mission to partner all the wallflowers. It was very gentlemanly of him, of course, but she wished he’d come and ask her. Not that she’d lacked for partners, and most of them very pleasant.
Apart from one.
She hadn’t wanted to dance with Horace, but there he was, and after so much had passed between them she felt she could not refuse him without causing a scene.
“It has been quite an exciting weekend in the country, Tina, don’t you think?”
“That depends on what you find exciting, Horace.”
He smiled, but it was not a nice smile. Suddenly, Horace did not seem like a very nice person.
“I noticed you beside the river after luncheon. You were running, Tina. Is that a new fashion for ladies?”
Startled, Tina met his eyes. She felt her heart begin to thud uncomfortably. “Running?”
“And I’m sure I saw Mr. Eversham running after you. It was very odd, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Perhaps you were.”
But his skeptical expression told her he knew he wasn’t and that he wasn’t happy with what he’d seen, and he could make mischief for her if he wished. “You know,” he said, suddenly serious as the final strains of their dance were played, “you can always come to me if you need help, Tina. We have known each other a very long time, haven’t we?”
“We have, Horace. I’ll bear it in mind.”
Tina was very glad to leave him behind and walk away. She must tell Richard. He might be able to do something to stop Horace from spreading rumors. But then she remembered that this was all her fault, she’d caused this mess, and it wasn’t really fair to ask Richard to fix it.
“Ah, Tina!” It was Lady Isabelle again, bright-eyed, cheeks flushed. She caught Tina’s arm and led her out of the crush. “I have been remiss. There is someone here you must dance with.”
Although Tina put a bright smile on her face, she went with her hostess reluctantly. Who now? She’d been so looking forward to the ball, to dancing with Richard, and it was all going awry.
“Tina? Here he is.”
She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Richard, who seemed as surprised as she. “Richard,” Lady Isabelle exclaimed, like a conjurer who has performed a magic trick, and then bending close to murmur in his ear, she said “My gift to you, for protecting Henry. I really am grateful, you know.”