Wainbridge’s expression darkened. “It’s magnificent. But you know the truth of it. It is hard to celebrate it when it feels more like a noose than a distinction.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. In fact, I’ve already seen many pieces that’ll do well for you. Take that decanter in your hand. It’sat least a century old. I’d very much prefer it if you set it down instead of waving it around like you are.”
Wainbridge snorted. “You can have it and every other dusty relic around here if it will bring in money. Tomorrow I’ll show you the study and the library, and you have my permission to go anywhere in the house you like. Just be discreet. My aunt would be furious if she knew what we were up to. That woman is destined to be a thorn in my side, but let’s not talk of her anymore. She already influences too many of my thoughts. But for tonight, we make merry.”
It would be nice to relax, to truly partake in the festivities, but his father’s words echoed in his mind.“No one will trust a man who loses controls of his senses. It takes but one mishap to abolish trust, and once gone, it’s nearly impossible to restore.”
Lucas was not here to be pampered and entertained. His responsibilities were very specific and finite, and as such his behavior had to be different. He’d need to be master of every skill he possessed, for his entire financial future was riding on his ability to truly earn Wainbridge’s trust and oversee any transactions related to the Cloverton estate.
MissBrannon flashed in his mind... again. Her presence here was the one potential stumbling block. He needed to know what he was up against—the sooner, the better.
Chapter13
Olivia had never learned to play whist. She’d heard of the card game but never had the time or the inclination to learn.
Until now.
She sat in a straight-backed chair along the drawing room’s west wall, cup of tea in hand, alone. More than two hours had elapsed since the ladies left the men in the dining room. Two card tables were positioned in the chamber’s center with four women seated at each. Olivia had not been invited to play, but she did not mind, for now she could observe the other female guests without drawing attention.
The four other young ladies were at the table nearest to Olivia, partnered in groups of two. MissEsther Haven, a stunning, statuesque woman with flaxen hair, was partnered with MissCaroline Stanley, who possessed coppery curls, soft brown eyes, and an airy, contagious laugh. MissRebecca Kline, a petite, buxom lady with full rosy cheeks and observant obsidian eyes, was partnered with MissWainbridge.
At the other table sat Mrs.Milton and three of the chaperones.
By the time the men reunited with the ladies in the drawing room, the hour had grown quite late. Mr. Wainbridge and Captain Whitaker were the first to join them, followed shortly by Mr. Fielding,Mr. Tate, and Mr. Avery. They brought with them an informal air laced with laughter and good humor, and in the blink of an eye the stuffy, somewhat sedate room had become a flurry of activity.
Mr.Wainbridge opened the veranda doors, and cooler, restorative air streamed in. The ladies abandoned their games and tables, and a fresh wave of footmen arrived with trays of cakes and beverages.
In the midst of the activity, Mrs.Milton found Olivia and took her arm. “Stay by me, MissBrannon. Besides my nephew you’ve only been introduced to Mr.Fielding, correct? A reminder—speak with none of the other men until you’ve been formally introduced by George, Isabella, or myself. In fact, the fewer people you speak with, the better.”
A slight flush warmed Olivia’s cheeks and neck. What would Mrs.Milton think if she knew the existing connection that Olivia had with Mr.Avery?
At length Captain Whitaker, a round, short man whose flushed cheeks nearly matched the shade of his officer’s uniform, approached Mrs.Milton, and after a polite introduction, Olivia found herself engaged in a cordial, albeit dull, conversation. Try as she might, she could not concentrate, for all the while she was acutely aware of Mr.Avery—where he was standing, with whom he was speaking, when he laughed, and, most notably, when he looked in her direction.
Despite her poor opinion of his family, Olivia could admit that Lucas Avery was a handsome man. She’d always thought so, but she’d been loath to admit it. His umber-hued brown hair was alittle darker than her own and just long enough to be fashionable. His eyes, even from a distance, were an unusual shade of pale green, enhanced by the deep moss shade of his worsted wool tailcoat.
She did try to focus on Captain Whitaker’s recounting of his most recent visit to Covent Garden, but as time and the story plodded on, her concern that she might not be able to speak with Mr.Avery that evening grew. And even as she smiled and spoke as circumspectly as possible, she could feel eyes assessing her, adding to her uneasiness.
Olivia stayed close to Mrs.Milton’s side, as instructed, but when one of the chaperones asked to speak with her privately regarding MissHaven, Olivia saw her chance.
The moment Mrs.Milton was out of sight, Olivia excused herself from Captain Whitaker, but when she looked around the crowded chamber, Mr.Avery seemed to be gone. What was worse, she spied Mr.Fielding approaching her. Fearing she might become embroiled in another unpleasant conversation, she whirled around and, in doing so, nearly collided with Mr.Wainbridge’s shoulder and disrupted the drink in his hand.
And then she saw Mr.Avery, standing just behind him.
He was looking at her. And... smiling?
She forced her flustered attention to their host and the liquid that had splashed onto his sleeve. “How careless of me! Please forgive me, Mr.Wainbridge. I did not see you there.”
“Not at all. In fact, it’s a small price to pay to see that you’ve escaped my aunt’s clutches,” he japed, procuring a handkerchieffrom his coat and swiping at his dampened sleeve. “She seems intent upon keeping you to herself.”
Olivia recognized the inebriated tint of his eyes and cheeks. “She just introduced me to Captain Whitaker.”
“Whitaker’s a great friend of mine.” Wainbridge’s casual demeanor and relaxed posture were a sharp contrast to the polished man she’d met earlier in the day. “What do you think of him?”
“I’ve only just met him, but he seems friendly enough.”
Mr.Wainbridge chortled. “Friendly indeed. Well then, you must permit me to introduce you to another one of my friends. Mr.Lucas Avery.”
Her eyes met his. This was the moment. He might expose her. He might not.
