“I have asked Mrs. Montague for suggestions for managers. The idea of giving working class girls a chance at roles other than courtesan appeals to me.”
“I love it. Come to think of it, when you need more counter clerks, one or two girls finishing at the school here in Town might suit. What of the kitchen?”
“That is where I struggle the most to give up control. I can hardly bring myself to staff the kitchen.” Penelope grinned. “Although if I can trust anyone, ’twould be someone you find. Send them on.”
They discussed timing of hires for a moment before Penelope excused herself to greet someone she’d met through Michael, and Beth turned back to see Robert staring at her.
Tilting her head, she gave a short upward nod toward the stairs.
He frowned.
Mayhap he does not wish to be seen together, given his privacy issues.
She lifted a shoulder at him and turned to the stairs. With one foot on the first step, she twisted her head to stare at him, raising a brow in challenge.
His mouth tightened, and he shook his head in the negative.
Crestfallen, she continued to watch him, as he turned to say something to Michael.
Owen—she still did not know his surname, as was common among the guests at Cheltie’s house parties—appeared behind her. He reached for her hand and bowed.
“’Tis lovely to see you again, Owen.” She cast a quick glance to see if Robert was paying attention, but he was still talking with Penelope’s husband.
“If it isn’t the delectable—” He glanced at the bountiful display of her bosom. “—Beth. May I interest you in some entertainment upstairs?” He grinned.
She had no doubt that he’d be fine with either side of the door, just as she had always been. Firming her lips, she was determined to have fun tonight, with or without the prude below. Any orgasm was better than none. Placing her hand on the crook of his offered arm, she nodded her assent.
Halfway up the staircase, she gave in to one last glance below.
Robert stood glaring at her with a muscle ticking in his cheek. When she met his gaze, he turned and strode toward the door. Dratted man.
After two doors, she was more frustrated than aroused. Self-directed anger surged. She could darn well do what she pleased. But no amount of staring at carnal acts through a hole in a door distracted her.
Owen led her to a third door, this one standing open.
She peered in, trying to picture herself with the man inside. Or with Owen.
“Care to join in, my lovely?” Owen whispered in her ear, his hands skimming her sides and lingering along her breasts.
Always before, the very idea would have set her pulse racing, her nipples tightening. But her body did not respond as she’d expected. If anything, her stomach felt a little queasy. Had Robert ruined her for other men? That would be devastating. No man had expressed interest in her long term, and she was sure he was no different.
He’s not here, the dratted man. I can play with whomever I like.
But neither her body nor her heart wished to, no matter what her head said. Disheartened, she excused herself, thanking Owen for his escort, and descended the stairs to the ballroom, finding Michael and Penelope starting upward.
“Have either of you seen Robert, please?”
Michael’s and Penelope’s eyes widened in tandem at her use of his first name. She could not bring herself to care or explain.
“He excused himself to home.” Michael’s voice was gentle. “Hold on, did he accompany you? We can see you home.”
“No, although I appreciate the kind offer.” Beth swallowed against the ball of hurt in her throat. “I came with Althea, and I think I spied her with Cheltie upstairs, so I shall give her a few minutes.”
“Right, then. Shall we all fetch a drink?” Penelope asked, looking up at her husband.
“Certainly. I shall fetch. You two sit.” They turned and descended back to the main level.
Michael had only been gone a few seconds when Althea swept down the stairs, her face flushed, and begged Beth to leave.
