Caroline smiled as she shook her head. “Of course you don’t. Why am I not surprised?” She put a hand under her chin. “Shall I just seat you beside Tristan and then she to your right?”
“By me?” Leonard’s eyes grew wide. “Why?”
Caroline looked ready to scoff but controlled herself. “Because she knows no one else in our party.”
“Who else is coming?” Leonard’s discomfort mounted, and he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.
“You and Mrs. Gillingham, Tristan and I, Ambrose and his new bride, and Andrew and Sophie.”
Leonard’s stomach lurched into his throat. “Andrew is coming?” So, Mrs. Gillingham would know someone in attendance after all.
“Mrs. Gillingham will know him, then,” Tristan said, as if reading Leonard’s thoughts. “That will be nice.”
Nice wasn’t the word Leonard would use.
“Speak of the devil,” Tristan said, looking toward the door. Leonard’s gaze followed to see Andrew and his wife, Sophie. The weight of the evening settled heavily over him. Every other person in this group would be married, except for him and Mrs. Gillingham.
What had he been thinking?
For once in his life, he had let the small soft center of himself pity this young woman, and now, because of it, he would suffer an entire evening of smirks and glances from the other married members of the group. An entirely insufferable idea.
He sprung to his feet, glancing about for a quick escape. Could he make some sort of excuse to leave? Illness, perhaps. He could claim a sour stomach or a headache. Before he could deliberate as to which illness would be most believable, Mrs. Gillingham herself appeared behind Andrew.
The ramifications of his actions played out before him, because as soon as Tristan laid eyes on Mrs. Gillingham, heturned to Leonard with a raised brow and wide, knowing eyes. He could practically hear his friend’s thoughts.
This woman is more than slightly attractive.
Leonard could only run his hand up the back of his neck and do his best not to wither under Tristan’s waggling brow.
“Mr. Stanton.” Mrs. Gillingham’s familiar voice calling for him forced him to look up. She had a raised brow as Tristan had, but Leonard couldn’t figure out why at the moment. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me?”
Blast. Of course. That was the whole point of this evening after all.
He strode over to her, his neck hot and his clothes feeling too tight. “Mrs. Shepherd, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mrs. Honora Gillingham.”
“A pleasure,” Mrs. Gillingham said, dipping to her hostess.
Leonard gestured to Andrew. “And, of course, you know Mr. Langford.”
Her eyes widened so briefly that Leonard would have missed it had he not been already watching her. But she quickly corrected the expression and turned to Andrew with a curtsy. “Of course. How good to see you again, Mr. Langford.”
Andrew’s mouth fell open as he noticed Mrs. Gillingham.
“Mrs. . . . Gillingham.” He nodded his head. “How good to see you.” Andrew turned to Leonard, a question in his gaze, which Leonard promptly ignored. Tristan’s carpet had a very interesting pattern, with which Leonard pretended to be in raptures.
“We will speak later,” Andrew said as he passed him to join the others in the seating area.
The rest of the introductions were made, soon followed by dinner, and it all felt like it was happening in some sort of distorted reality. His friends, all previously single less than a year ago, were now all happily married, and Leonard was seatedby a widowed thief, whom his friends now all thought he had a vested interest in. He could not have made the situation up if he had tried.
“Mr. Stanton,” Mrs. Gillingham said, nodding as he held her chair out for her before taking his own. “You look very well this evening.”
“Thank you.” A cough sounded to Leonard’s left, and he looked up to see Tristan with a fist against his mouth.
Tristan finally looked up when Leonard said nothing else, and he flicked his eyes to Mrs. Gillingham, going so far as to tilt his head in her direction.
Leonard pursed his lips for a moment. He did not like to be forced into anything, but he was in Tristan’s house after all. “And you look well this evening, Mrs. Gillingham.”
Her arm brushed against his, and he couldn’t tell if it was purposeful or not. “Thank you.” Another brush of her elbow caused him to turn his attention to her. She was fidgeting, her hands working together in her lap.
