“He is a hunted species, Rory.” Charles looked to the middle Haddon brother for support. “A man of noble birth, tolerable looks, and a handsome income.”
“Like you,” Joseph said.
“Ah, but I am not an earl, and thankful for it.” Charles clapped him on the back.
“Stow it,” Joseph snarled.
“That had more bite than normal, Joseph. What appears to be the problem?”
“Nothing is the problem, Rory. Perhaps I merely wish to stand with my brother for a while.”
Was she here? Joseph let his eyes sweep the room, and when that yielded nothing, he looked to the corners. He located her standing with the Swinton sisters. He could not see a great deal, as it was dark, but the jolt of awareness when he looked her way confirmed that the woman was Milly.
“It’s that woman... the governess,” Charles said, watching the dancers. “She has had you tetchy since meeting her.”
“I am not now, nor will I ever be, tetchy. Furthermore, I have no idea what you allude to, and would ask you to keep your mouth shut.”
“No, you are definitely not yourself,” Charles added. “In fact, I would go so far as to say you are agitated.”
“Earls do not get agitated,” Joseph said slowly.
“Of course they do. Father was continually agitated when I beat him at chess.”
“I miss him,” Joseph said softly.
“As do we all,” Rory added. “But you more so at this precise moment, because Charles is right, you are agitated.”
“Not one more word from either of you.”
“You are excessively touchy for someone who is supposedly not agitated.”
“Enough, Charles, stop stirring the pot,” Rory cautioned his younger brother.
“I was not stirring the pot!”
“You were, and you had best hurry, as your Miss Bailey has arrived, and Lord Cropper is circling.”
“What? Where?” Charles had started walking before Rory had finished, much to Joseph’s relief.
He watched his brother move in on Miss Bailey, and felt Rory step to his side.
“I’ve been thinking about Miss Higglesworth, Joseph.”
“I thought we just discussed this matter, and it is closed.”
Joseph’s gaze found Milly again. He couldn’t read her expression from this distance, but was certain her eyes were on him. He’d dreamed of her last night. Imagined her gloriously naked and wrapped around him, and the visions had not been conducive to a restful slumber, especially as he was no closer to a decision as to what he should do about her.
“The thing is, Joseph, there was something about her that seemed familiar.”
“No, Rory, there was not.”
“There was, and you know how I am with faces. My memory is far superior to yours, and I have come to the conclusion, after giving the matter a great deal of time—”
“You have the memory of a fish, Rory.”
“Harsh, unless it is a trout. Superior creatures, trout.”
Joseph snorted.
