Lucas smirked. “You’ve found me out.”
“No, it isn’t that,” Miss Stanley stated thoughtfully as she sat next to Lucas on the sofa, quite close. Her downcast lips formed a pretty, coquettish pout, convincing enough that he could almost believe she was concerned. “You look positively sour.”
“Yes, did you have too much fun last night, Avery?” Wainbridge quipped, sitting in the remaining chair.
Lucas chided himself for not being more on guard and forced a good-hearted chuckle. “Hardly. I’m just trying to figure out how on earth Tate managed to best me at billiards this morning.”
Wainbridge snorted at the joke.
Tate shook his head. “You may be a great deal smarter than I am on many fronts, Avery, but beat me at billiards? Never.”
“A rematch, then,” suggested Lucas.
“I’d take that bet,” added Wainbridge.
Tate guffawed. “Challenge accepted.”
MissStanley shifted next to him, making a great display of adjusting the folds of her pale pink skirt. She never was one who liked to be left out of a conversation, and talk of billiards did just that. As the men’s laughter subsided, she redirected the conversation.
“What a thrill that you included Mr.Romano as a guest, Mr.Wainbridge.” MissStanley straightened her posture as she perched pristinely on the edge of the sofa’s cushion. “I wrote to my mother just this morning and told her what an exciting addition he was to the party. I cannot wait to share my portrait with her.”
Wainbridge beamed proudly, unfazed at the conversation’s new direction. “I’m glad his presence has made your time at Cloverton that much more enjoyable.”
“Oh, it has! And the profiles last night. Just wonderful.” She turned her attention to Mr. Romano and, by association, Miss Brannon. “How lovely Miss Brannon looks in that shade of blue. I have no doubt the portrait will be stunning.”
Lucas followed her direction. MissBrannon did look lovely, but it was unlike MissStanley to draw attention to another woman’s charms. There had to be a motive, and he could only guess it was an effort to keep the focus from her own crumbing financial situation.
“What an interesting creature she is,” Tate mused. “And such a mystery! Who is she really, Wainbridge? I think you know and are keeping it a secret from us.”
Wainbridge held his hands out as if to declare his innocence. “Honestly, I wish I knew, but I know nothing more than you do. Actually, the oddest thing just happened. Not even half an hour ago, I encountered MissBrannon. She was alone in the gallery, just staring at one of Uncle’s giant vases. She had an ottoman, and I can’t be sure, but I think she was going to climb on it. Surely I was mistaken, but it was strange. Very strange indeed.”
Lucas stifled a chuckle. Of course Olivia Brannon would attempt to climb on an ottoman to get a better view of the Cavesee Vase.
MissStanley frowned. “That is odd. But if she is a friend of the Miltons, perhaps she is fond of all those old things just as they were.”
Wainbridge shrugged. “Whatever the reason, it’s beyond me.”
Tate leaned back contemplatively in his chair. “I can’t help but wonder if she is merely a companion. If she were wealthyor related to someone of importance, someone here would certainly know.”
“I think you might be right.” MissStanley’s plummy tone was almost mellifluous. “After all, Mrs.Milton is the sort of woman who could pluck a person out of obscurity and make her a celebrity overnight. Consider that MissBrannon is not musical, nor does she paint. Why, she does not even sew!”
“Ah. The hallmarks of every truly worthy woman,” teased Tate. “Perhaps she does not like those things. They all sound dreadfully dull.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr.Tate. It isn’t aboutenjoyingthem. It is aboutsucceedingat them. And you—you’re awfully quiet on the topic, Mr.Avery.” MissStanley sounded accusatory as she pivoted toward Lucas. “She seems to like you. I’ve seen the two of you talking frequently. I know you must have an opinion.”
Lucas drew a sharp breath. Now they were getting to the heart of it. MissStanley did view MissBrannon as competition.
“To answer your question, I do have an opinion.” Lucas forced a casual tone to his voice. “It matters not to me if she’s a companion or an heiress or anything else. I enjoy her company. Shouldn’t that be the benchmark for whether she’s worthy to be part of our group?”
MissStanley rolled her eyes. “I’m not surprised to hear you, a man, say as much.”
“And if she was from lower means,” Lucas continued, “what would we do? Throw her from the premises? Refuse to speak with her?”
“Well said.” A twinkle sparkled in Tate’s light blue eyes. “And I’m certain those large hazel eyes and bright smile have nothing to do with such an opinion.”
***
The next day was Olivia’s fifth day at Cloverton Hall—and the day of the Whitmore ball. Each day had provided deeper insight into a collection that was proving more extensive than she’d ever have anticipated. The fact that so many of the pieces were together and Mrs.Milton had such complete documentation only added to the fact.
