Lydia stared at Deirdre. “In the Ravencroft townhouse?”
Deirdre added another stitch. “He moved in when he returned from Surrey.”
Lydia let out a tiny squeal and wrapped her arms around David’s shoulders in a sideways hug. He tried to return the embrace, awkward with a bow in one hand, steadying the viola da gamba on his legs with the other.
Diana squeezed his shoulder. “Aunt Connie is going to be so happy!”
David dropped his chin to his chest in frustration. He took a fortifying breath as he raised his head. “I didn’t do it for Aunt Connie.” Even though he knew how much it would please her. He gestured with his bow. “Shall we proceed?” He addressed Parker, Mansfield, and Templeton at the pianoforte. “The Club is not going to admit Lydia. Even if she could get in, we won’t earn any marks with the judges having her as our conductor. We should rehearse without her leading.”
Diana forcefully cleared her throat, covering whatever indignant sounds Lydia made.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Templeton said. “Your brother makes a valid point.” Mansfield and Parker murmured agreement. Liam, who had been wrestled to the floor by Lydia more than once when they were children, suddenly found the fretwork on his mandolin to be utterly fascinating.
Lydia opened her mouth to argue, tilted her head to one side, then puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. “Agreed.” She handed out the sheet music for their original composition, then took a seat on the sofa near Deirdre.
Just as David’s arm was tiring, Diana sailed back into the room and announced it was time for them to adjourn to the front parlour before going in to dinner. He hadn’t noticed her leave to dress for dinner, or how much time had passed.
Within a few moments he was accepting a tall glass of cool tea with honey and lemon from one footman, while another circulated through the parlour with a tray of aperitifs. Did he dare sit down? In the week before David had moved out, on the occasions he left his bed Liam had teased him about how he’d fall asleep every time he sat on a comfortable piece of furniture. It was happening less often as his strength returned, but still…
“Uncle David!” Georgia hugged his arm. “You’re back!”
David resisted the impulse to flinch, and moved her hand to his upper arm, squeezing her hand in greeting. “Scamp. Anything exciting happen while I was away? Any announcements?”
She rested her head against his shoulder, still hugging his arm. “Alas, no. Nothing interesting has happened atall. Mother has been busy with Clarissa planning her wedding breakfast. I’ve hardly even seen Miss Hamlin. How are we supposed to hunt matrimonial prey if we aren’t out at every social event?”
Over the buzz of conversation from the dozen or so people already in the parlour, the butler announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Endicott and Miss Hamlin. Georgia quietly squealed in delight and abandoned him to greet her friend.
David tried to slow his breathing. Just his luck that his first time seeing Ashley in over a week would be in front of his very observant, nosy family. He traded his empty glass for a full one from a passing footman and took up his usual stance by the fireplace. Out of habit he started to rest his right arm on the mantel, and barely caught himself in time before he bumped his arm. He switched the glass to his right hand so he wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it again.
“You’re back.”
He’d missed the announcement of Aunt Connie’s arrival. He pasted a smile on his face and leaned in to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I’m delighted to see you, as well.”
She curled her fingers around his cravat to prevent him from withdrawing very far. “Where have you been?” She lowered her voice. “And don’t give me any folderol about dealing with flooding in Surrey. Mr. Ogden is fully capable of handling such an incident even without my brother shadowing his every step.”
Aunt Connie was his only surviving parental figure and he’d never been able to lie to her, even as a little boy. He ran his tongue behind his front teeth as he considered what he could say. “I encountered a woman,” he quietly said. He bent closer, dropping his voice even lower, keeping his expression neutral. “For the past fortnight, I’ve barely been out of bed.”
Her chin dropped and eyes widened. Then she apparently remembered that gesture gave her a double chin, and she tilted her chin up and to the right as she stared at him, searching his face.
He refused to blink or look away. Hoped to hell he wasn’t blushing. From the corner of his eye he saw Ashley’s mouth fall open before she quickly turned her back where she was talking with Georgia, her face flushing furiously. A few feet away on his other side, Liam bent over double, ostensibly to adjust his shoe buckle, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“You’re telling the truth.” Connie let go of his cravat to tap her bottom lip with one beringed finger. “And yet … not.” She tapped his chest with her finger, her large ruby ring sparkling in the light from the chandelier. “I’ll have the full story, sooner or later.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and was saved having to reply by the butler announcing that dinner was served.
The food was excellent as usual at Diana’s home, but once more he was seated too far away to converse with Ashley. The meal seemed to drag on forever. He asked a footman for another glass of honey and lemon tea and rested his voice, not trusting himself to engage in conversation with Aunt Connie, and having zero interest in plans for Clarissa’s wedding breakfast other than being glad he had “returned” in time to attend it in two days. Finally they adjourned to the music room.
Still he couldn’t speak with Ashley, as Georgia or someone else was always near her. After warming up, Lydia asked him and the other members of the quintet to sing and play their two numbers for the Club competition.
The Last Rose of Summerwent well. During Lydia’s song, Missy yawned. Everyone applauded politely when they finished and praised Lydia’s composition.
This was the largest audience for which they’d performed the original number. Everyone in the room—family and close friends—was inclined to react favorably though honestly. And this tepid response was the reaction?
They weren’t going to win anything with it.
Seated on the sofa, Ashley licked her lips as she opened her reticule. Was she going to apply some of her rose-tinted lip balm? He still had the little tin she had given him. He had only applied it at night, though he often opened the container to sniff the contents. He’d continued to apply her rosemary healing ointment until not a hint of bruising was visible, long after he would have stopped bothering to treat bruises before he met her.
The gathering moved on to playing and singing favorite tunes. With everyone shifting about, he didn’t get to see what she did with whatever was of interest in her reticule, but she did get up to help Lydia and Diana distribute sheets of music. As Ashley walked past him, the end of her silk shawl brushed against his music stand, and sheets of paper fluttered to the floor.
