“No. He loves to be held.”
Carefully, Lady Penelope shifted him from his perch into the cradle of her arms. “Isn’t he a sweetheart? Does he stay here alone at night when you return to your residence?”
“I have rooms here, on the floor above.”
The ladies blinked at her as though they were having difficulty deciphering her words.
“You live here... alone?” Lady Victoria asked.
“Yes. It’s quite safe.”
“You’re so independent,” Lady Alexandria said. “Living with my mother can be a nightmare at times. She has to know what I’m doing every moment of every day.”
“At least you don’t have a sister who is always poking around, trying to find your journal.” Pressing a hand to her lips, she looked at Fancy with mirth reflected in her eyes. “I hide it in the fireplace flue. She doesn’t like to get dirty, so I know she’ll never look there.”
Fancy had never really talked with others about their families. It made her realize how fortunate she was to have hers. “Would you all care to join me for some tea in the hotel gardens?”
“I like this room too much and hate the thought of leaving Dickens,” Lady Penelope said. “Would it be possible to enjoy our tea here?”
While the ladies settled in, Fancy dashed over to the hotel dining room, spoke with the majordomo, and returned to her guests. A short time later, the hotel staff delivered tea and cakes. The ladies stayed longer than they should have for a morning call, a full half hour, but Fancy enjoyed visiting with them, felt as though she was making inroads to being accepted.
Chapter 15
Friday night, sipping his scotch, Matthew sat in a large leather chair in one of several small sitting areas spread throughout the library at Dodger’s. The footman who had brought him his drink had done so without making a sound. Gentlemen who were sitting about spoke in low voices, their mumbles barely audible. Everything was so quiet, so dignified, so refined. So blasted boring. Not at all like the lively affairs he’d been attending with Fancy.
He’d been avoiding her since the kiss. And he missed her like the very devil.
“Good God, Rosemont, where have you been keeping yourself?” Lord Beresford asked cheerfully as he took the chair opposite him. “Haven’t seen you at any of the balls.”
“I’ve been keeping myself busy elsewhere. After Elise’s letter made its appearance, I discovered I’d returned to Society a bit too soon.”
Beresford furrowed his brow. A few years older than Matthew, he’d yet to marry, although the rumors bandied about implied that he was quite taken with his mistress. “Sorry, old chap. I wasn’t thinking. I imagine it’s difficult to return to the gaiety after suffering such a tragic loss. Not easy to move on, I daresay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Although your countess certainly gave you permission. That was some letter she wrote. Quite shocking, really. Took me a minute to remember she was no longer with us.”
He was more than ready for a change in topic. “Any debutantes catch your interest this Season?”
Beresford waggled his thick brown brows. “You’ve missed out on all the excitement. The Trewlove chit was introduced into Society.”
One hand balled into a tightened fist, the other closed around his glass so firmly he feared it might shatter. He didn’t appreciate Fancy being labeled a chit, not that he hadn’t used the word himself on occasion in reference to other women, but she deserved a more respectful tone. It took everything within him not to launch himself at the man sitting across from him and introduce his jaw to his fists.
“Waltzed with her at the Thornley ball,” Beresford continued. “She’s a comely little thing.”
Matthew set his scotch aside because he expected the glass to crumble in his hand at any moment. He hadn’t expected the anger—or perhaps it was jealousy—to swell so forcefully within him when he imagined Beresford circling Fancy over the dance floor. “I heard rewards were offered to anyone who danced with her. What benefit did you receive?”
“The benefit of her company. Nothing else. I don’t gamble so I have no debt. My stables are up to snuff, and my investments are sound.”
He was at once happy for Fancy that she might have an actual admirer, while again experiencing a stab of jealousy that someone else might have an interest in her. “You were taken with her then?”
Beresford glanced around as though on the verge of doing something he ought not. Leaning forward slightly, he met Matthew’s gaze. “She’s a beauty, doesn’t giggle or simper. Appears to be a woman of intelligence.”
That was an understatement.
“She asked after my family and my hobbies. I’ve never had a woman ask questions of me. They generally just talk about themselves or the weather. She was quite a delight to be honest.”
She was most definitely that.
