Ariana stared after her, but Kynaston said, “Someone mentioned obliging maids?”
“I don’t know what’s come over her.” But Ariana did, and she was hopeful, especially after the way Kynaston had looked at her.
“She’s matchmaking,” he said. “A pity it’s to no purpose.”
It was like a blow to the heart. She should have been grateful for honest bluntness, but she felt like crumpling to the floor in despair. Pride rescued her. “Indeed. A ridiculous notion. I came here, Kynaston, for a purpose.”
“I should hope so,” he said, but he turned away to put more coal on the fire, which was already burning brightly. A sensitive man, to give her a moment to pull herself together, but she hated that he might guess her feelings.
Why couldn’t she have a grand, tragic, impossibleromance? Instead, she was a victim of unrequited love. Was there anything more pathetic?
When he turned back, she told him about Edgar Peake’s letter. “I want to attend, and I think you should, too. But not together. Not as a couple, I mean.” She was tangling herself. “Would Lady Cawle attend?”
“I doubt she could resist.”
“She won’t make it into the cellars with her hoops.”
“She will reign from on high.”
“So you could come with her, and I with my brother and mother.”
“Except that you are now separated from your wardrobe.”
His eyes flickered down and she realized she’d let go of her shirt. She fumbled behind for one of the pins holding the pantaloon waist together, but he came toward her, pulling out his cravat pin. He offered it, and she used it to hold the shirt together.
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
She had no answer, or none she wanted to give. In the end she repeated, “I wanted to escape.” It was, in part, true.
“Perfectly understandable. Why hasn’t your brother dispersed the mob?”
“I persuaded him not to. There were only a few at first. Then he left. I thought he’d come to speak to you.”
“He did, but then stormed off to find some friends and rampage around the print shops gathering copies. I thought it was the least harmful outlet for his passion.”
“He’s young.”
“I might have done the same if I’d thought it would do any good. As it is, Peake’s plan with your elaboration might serve a better purpose. I have also come up with another notion. We could have a different cartoon drawn.”
“Adifferentone? For what purpose?”
“Nothing so interestingly scandalous, but an accurate illustration of Peake’s cellar with a few fashionable notables poking around in it.”
“Would that interest people?”
“Not as much as sin, but it will be a curiosity for a few days.”
“It might help. Is there a glimmer of hope?” she asked.
“I said I wouldn’t let this ruin you.”
“But you aren’t God.”
“I’m an earl,” he said lightly, “which is close enough for the purpose.”
She could point out that Norris was one, too, but let it pass. Kynaston had a power and maturity her brother might never have. But where did that fit with the drunken wretch she’d come across in this room not much over a week ago? She glanced around and saw no sign of spirits.
She looked back at him. “Why were you drinking?”
