Bram leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you ready for this?”
“I hope so.” She peered up at him, and yet again her breath caught in her chest. For once, he was completely clean-shaven with his hair slicked back and smelling of sandalwood tonic. His usual devil-may-care appearance was undeniably attractive but this transformation? The stunning man smiling down at her was actually a little intimidating. She’d be completely tongue-tied if she didn’t know the same old Bram lived and breathed beneath the fancy suit he’d rented for the occasion.
“Do not worry. All will be well. The Inman sisters will bethe loveliest ladies in the room tonight, and I am honoured to be their escort.” He planted their hands in the crook of each of his arms and led them from the foyer into the receiving hall.
Eva scanned from wall to wall. The drink table appeared to be well stocked. Hors d’oeuvres graced several plate towers on another table, exactly as she’d instructed. Ivy swags crisscrossing from the ceiling added a festive touch, and all in all, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves—if one were to judge by the drone of conversation. Truly, it was a lovely sight to see everything so pulled together.
But was the dining room as impeccable? Craning her neck, she slipped a glance toward that doorway, but only succeeded in attracting a wave from Lottie across the room. “Would you mind if I—”
“Well, well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball and her lovely sister.” Richard Trestwell swooped over, pulling her and Penny’s hands free from Bram’s arms, and gave them each a kiss on their fingers. Straightening, he raked a cool gaze over Bram. “Webb, I’m surprised you were allowed in the door. Won’t you be a bit out of your depth amongst Royston’s high society?”
Bram’s jaw tightened. “Good evening, Trestwell. There is no need to bedevil yourself on my account. I’m quite capable of navigating social gatherings regardless of their refinement.”
One side of Mr. Trestwell’s moustache twitched upward in a smirk. “Navigation is one thing, but doing so with grace and decorum is another matter entirely. Try not to trip over your own feet, will you? Miss Inman wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents spoiling the evening.”
Tension ran thick between the two. Eva forced a soothing tone to her voice. “I have every expectation tonight will run smoothly, Mr. Trestwell.”
“I am sure you do, Miss Inman, but one can never predict when the unexpected might happen. Disasters often strike at the most inopportune times, do they not? Even the most well-laidplans can unravel in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep a close watch on Webb here.” He cuffed Bram on the back too forcefully, jerking him forward. “Wouldn’t want him causing any undue disturbance to ruin the evening, now, would we? Please let me know if you require any assistance, for, as always, I am your servant.”
Eva held her breath until Mr. Trestwell eased back into the mingling crowd. Irritation radiated off Bram in waves. His hands were fisted at his sides, yet to his credit, he let the bully go.
“Do not mind him,” Eva whispered. “He is only trying to spoil your night.”
Bram turned his gaze on her, a charismatic smile curving his lips. “It will not work. With you at my side, there is nothing that could ruin it.”
“Ah, the Miss Inmans.” Mrs. Mortimer closed in on them, turning her large girth sideways to edge between a servant carrying a silver tray and two gentlemen deep in discussion. “Exactly who I was hoping to see. And of course, you as well, Professor Webb.” She stopped in front of them, violet toilette water wafting around her. So many ruffles adorned her ample figure that she looked more like a decorated cake than a woman.
“I am happy you could make it tonight, Mrs. Mortimer.” Eva bobbed a small curtsey. “I did not realize the reverend would attend such an event.”
“Oh, my brother isn’t here. I came on my own—scandalous, is it not?” A laugh trilled past her painted lips as she looped her arm through Penny’s. “You, my darling dear, have been indisposed the last few times I’ve been to your house, and I was hoping to have a chat with you.” Mrs. Mortimer lifted her face to Eva. “May I steal away your sister for a few moments?”
Penny pulled from the woman’s grasp. “Thank you, Mrs. Mortimer, but I would prefer to stay with my sister. She’s promised to let me sample the croquembouche before dinner.”
“My sister is correct. Another time, perhaps. Do enjoy therefreshment table, Mrs. Mortimer.” Collecting Penny’s hand, Eva led her sister toward the dining room.
“Mind if I tag along?” Bram joined them. “You may not know this, but I happen to be a croquembouche expert.”
“I did not know.” She arched a brow. “Another one of your secrets, eh?”
Bypassing the tables with a glance to make sure the centerpiece candles were lit, Eva led her sister and Bram to an adjoining large room that bustled with serving staff and smelled divine. Miss Thompson reigned supreme, barking orders and waving a wooden spoon in the air.
Eva approached the woman. “Excuse me, Miss Thompson. I wondered if we might taste the dessert?”
“It’s not properly plated yet, but there are a few broken pieces in that box over there.” She tipped her head toward a corner table. “And mind yer not underfoot.”
“You will not even know we are here. Thank you.” Guiding Penny behind her, and with Bram at the rear, they made their way single file through the melee. Sure enough, a box of subpar profiteroles sat on one corner, the balls of caramel-glazed choux too irregular in size or misshapen to be added to the final towers. The sweet scent made her mouth water.
Penny leaned over the box. “It smells magnificent.”
Bram popped a piece into his mouth. “It is magnificent.”
“Beast.” Eva gathered a few small plates from nearby and, using a pair of tongs, served them each some imperfect croquembouche.
Penny closed her eyes as she chewed. “I could eat this every day.”
Eva smiled. So could she. Miss Thompson had her rough edges, but the woman surely could cook—and bake.
“As long as yer takin’ up space, ye might as well try some of the meal as well.” The ruddy-cheeked cook set down a platter with odds and ends of chicken pieces, buttered potatoes, and a thick gravy.
