The coy feminine voice to Lucas’s right claimed his attention.
MissCaroline Stanley’s wide-set, soft russet eyes were fixed on him, and her delicate pink lips were drawn in a distressed, albeit flirtatious, pout.
Lucas angled his body to focus on his charming dinner partner. “We can’t have that. What’s troubling you?”
“You and I have been acquainted for at least a decade, have we not? In all that time I’ve never known you to be so solemn. It’s quite distracting, and I don’t like it.”
An easy smile formed. He’d always liked MissStanley and her gift for witty banter. “Am I to understand thatIam the source of your concern?”
“Of course!” Her titian brows drew together, resulting in a prettily furrowed brow. “This is our first evening at the lovely Cloverton party, and you already seem bored and distracted. We’ve not seen one another in months and have so much to catch up on. One would think you did not want to be here at all.”
Lucas sobered at the censure. He had to remember that he was here to save his business. That meant being friendly. Building a reputation. Every choice—every action and conversation—was a gamble that he was focusing his time and effort on the right projectat the right time. “I can assure you, Miss Stanley, that nothing is further from the truth. I am merely observing.”
She lowered her voice, as if taking him into her confidence. “Do you mean you are observing Mrs.Milton?”
“Mrs.Milton?” He chuckled, casting a glance at their hostess. “What makes you say that?”
“I saw you watching her. I can’t say I blame you. I’ve never met her in person before, although I have seen her at gatherings and balls from time to time.”
Lucas shrugged. “I’m curious about her, ’tis all. She has quite the reputation.”
“She is an intimidating creature, to be sure. I once saw a young woman crying because Mrs.Milton told her mother that she thought her dress inappropriate for the weather. The weather! Her opinion has the power to either make a person the talk of the Season or ruin them forever.” MissStanley shook her head, causing the curls on either side of her face to dance. “How different she is from the Wainbridges. Imagine what it must be like to have her as an aunt. But how fortunate that Mr.Wainbridge was able to convince her to preside over the party as hostess. I have it on good authority that she has not personally hosted a single event since Mr.Milton’s death. I’m quite certain my mother never would have consented for me to attend otherwise. And I was also glad to learn that you are among the guests. You were greatly missed over the summer. But Mr.Tate told me you have been traveling?”
“I returned from Italy two weeks ago.”
“A trip for pleasure, I hope?”
“Business, I’m afraid. I was finalizing some of my father’s dealings there.”
“Yes, I heard about your father.” Her tone lowered in solidarity. “I was very sorry to hear it.”
He took another drink to hide any emotion that might reveal itself in his expression. How could nine months have already elapsed since his father’s death?
“Well then,” she exclaimed, her polished tone brightening, “we must do our very best to make sure you are happy and have no reason to be melancholy while you’re here. Diversion is always the best remedy when plagued with grief, I’ve found.”
Lucas wished he could see the world so simply—to merely demand a distraction and find respite from a wound he doubted would ever really heal. But to him, relief would come through working hard and securing a future for his business.
“Now, tell me...” She leaned over and glanced around the table, a sparkle twinkling in her eyes. “You always seem to know the most unique details. Do you know anything about the young lady sitting next to Mrs.Milton?”
He looked toward MissBrannon. She was bound to be a topic of conversation sooner or later.
MissStanley continued, “No one seems to know anything about her—where she lives or who her people are. Not even the Wainbridges. MissWainbridge told me she was a particular friend of Mrs.Milton, and that Mrs.Milton insisted MissKline actually be moved from her bedchamber so that this new guest might stay there. MissKline was quite put out. Isn’t that curious?”
He leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. “Well, whatever her story, I’m sure we’ll all know it soon enough. No one can keep a secret for long.”
MissStanley giggled. “How right you are, Mr.Avery.”
The soft hum of polite conversation floated around him in hushed tones and restrained laughter. He knew how these parties would go... he would speak with MissBrannon yet tonight. There would be no way around it.
He studied her more closely, as discreetly as he was able. The gentle—and attractive—slope of her nose. The fullness of her florid lips. It was coloring that tied her to the Edward Brannon he recalled—chestnut hair, hazel eyes that were more gold than green, a clear, fair complexion. She was not dressed as a plain shopgirl, as she had been in most of their other encounters. She was elegant, refined. Always before he’d seen her as Mr.Brannon’s impetuous daughter. Now she seemed every bit a lady in her own right.
The relaxed state he’d just enjoyed was beginning to dissipate as the possible motives for her attendance continued to develop in his mind.
Lucas had assumed that the business relationship between the Brannons and Cloverton Hall died with Francis Milton. Furthermore, George Wainbridge had definite plans for how to handle the collection moving forward.
And yet,shewas here. And she seemed so friendly with the Wainbridge siblings.
It was too coincidental. Wasn’t it?
