As Beatrix sat and smiled and nodded with distant agreeability, she found herself wishing she had a useful dog.
“Ah-ha,” came a jolly voice from the doorway.
Instinctively, Beatrix winced.
“Here’s where my lovely harem ran off to,” continued Lydon, producing a chorus of feminine titters.
Beatrix suspected they were less provoked by Lydon’s flattery than by the presence of Blaze Jagger at his side. The frisson of excitement that enlivened the air couldn’t be denied.
Her brother.
Blaze Jagger was her brother.
And he was here…Why?
To keep a close eye on his investment?
Or perhaps to prove something?
The latter felt as if it edged closer to the truth.
“Now, I know needlework gets you lovelies all het up,” continued Lydon. “But how about we enjoy an activity a little less exciting, like…cards?”
Of course, Lydon would suggest cards. Any form of gambling, really. He couldn’t be long away from it. Beatrix could only hope there were no roosters prowling about Primrose Park. He’d have them sparring by midnight.
Along with the other gentlemen ambling into the room, Dev entered. As he caught wind of the direction the evening was taking, he quietly conferred with servants. Soon, tables and chairs were being brought in to accommodate an impromptu evening of cards.
His gaze cut over and caught hers.
He winked.
So quick it was, she could’ve blinked and missed it, for he’d been immediately pulled into conversation with Lord Ipswich. Beatrix hoped he was prepared to become acquainted with the anti-fungal properties of apple cider vinegar.
“He’s quite a man, isn’t he?” came an admiring feminine voice.
Beatrix took the split of a second to brace herself before turning to face Lady Bridgewater. “I presume you’re not speaking of Lord Ipswich.”
Lady Bridgewater giggled, delighted. “You’re funny.” A smile remained perched upon her perfect bow-shaped mouth. “Congratulations on being the one to catch him.”
Beatrix didn’t feel like she was being congratulated. The glint in Lady Bridgewater’s eyes suggested curiosity and…challenge.
Beatrix was being tested.
“I’m not surecatchis the correct word,” she said. “I don’t recall him running away.”
Neither Lady Bridgewater’s smile nor the glint in her eyes faded. “A woman who fashions herself a wit.” She eyed Beatrixup and down. “I wouldn’t have thought Dev would fall for one of those.”
Beatrix was certain she’d been insulted to her face, but had no interest in taking offense. “And what sort of woman did you thinkDevwould fall for?” She hadn’t missed that use ofDev—and the familiarity implied.
Lady Bridgewater’s smile turned feline. She didn’t need to speak the answer aloud. They both knew it.
Me.
And really, that was all the answer Beatrix needed.
Lady Bridgewater yet harbored a passion for Dev.
“We grew up together, you know.”
