She tsked. “Honesty, Mr. Prince. We agreed on it.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I am in earnest. Each person we encounter seems drawn to you.”
“Well, Priscilla is somehow immune.”
Before he could learn more, they were assailed by the Walcott staff. A footman came forward to guide them up the path to the front door, and a butler stood on the threshold.
“Good evening, sir, and Miss Hawthorne.” The man, like everyone else in town, seemed to know Tess.
Once a maid had taken his overcoat and Tess’s cloak, they were directed toward a drawing room teeming with people.
“Mercy,” Tess murmured under her breath.
It seemed she, like Dom, had expected that they were attending an intimate dinner, just Tess, himself, Miss Walcott, and her father. Instead, there were at least a dozen people inside the spacious drawing room.
“Apparently, a few more were invited than just the two of us,” Dom said, as if Tess couldn’t see the gathering herself.
“Half the unmarried ladies of the village have been invited.”
His attention had been mostly on Tess, but now that she’d pointed it out, Dom felt the gazes of a room filled with colorfully garbed ladies turned his way.
He was used to catching the notice of ladies wherever he went. It was what was expected of him, as Tess had pointed out. And he was damned good at playing his part.
“I don’t see Priscilla.” Tess scanned her gaze around the assembled group, and the lady herself appeared as if summoned.
“Mr. Prince, how glad we are that you’ve come.” She approached in a crimson gown that glittered with a thousand faceted beads and placed a hand lightly on his arm. “May I present the members of my ladies book club, and a few others from my Ladies Charitable Society.”
As an afterthought, she beckoned Tess forward with her free hand. “And you all know Miss Hawthorne, of course.”
Almost as one, the assembly of ladies nodded at Tess.
“My father and a few of his friends are in the smokingroom. Ghastly habit, but gentlemen will do as they please.” She smiled up at Dom coquettishly. “But before they join us or the dinner gong sounds, do regale us, Mr. Prince, with tales of your exploits.”
“Tell me what would please you, Miss Walcott, and I’ll oblige.” He smiled down at the diminutive young lady, who now had her arm entwined with his as if they were about to promenade in Hyde Park.
“Oh well. Hmm.” She tapped her lip with her gloved fingertip, and he realized it was as much a performance for the assembled guests as what she was going to ask of him. “How about one short tale now, as a sort of aperitif, and then a far juicier story after dinner as our dessert?”
Dom inclined his head, offered the watching crowd of women a dazzling smile, and launched into a truncated story of his visit to Japan. It was the trip with his father he was asked about most, if only because access for Westerners was so tightly controlled.
As he spoke, he couldn’t help but notice Tess had taken up a spot in the corner, observing his performance.
The other ladies around him seemed rapt, hanging on his every word. Not Tess. She’d crossed her arms, even cocked one pretty blond brow.
What’s the true story?her look seemed to say.
Because, of course, he was embellishing, leaving out the illness he suffered on the trip, the frustration of bureaucratic delays, the fact that his father got so soused on rice wine that Dom had to all but carry him back to their lodgings.
When he’d finished his tale, the ladies moved toward him until he was surrounded. They peppered him with questions, touched him blatantly as they leaned in to speak to him, andbatted their lashes. Normally, he’d be quite content to be drowning in feminine company, but it was a strange kind of torture tonight.
The only lady’s attention he truly wanted stood with her back to him, examining a painting on the drawing room wall.
As they went through to dinner, he thought to catch her notice. He wanted to escort Tess to the table, but of course Miss Walcott, as hostess, expected to take his arm.
Inside the spacious dining room, each table setting was labeled with a name, and Dom cursed silently to see that Tess was to be seated practically in the next county, at the farthest end of the table from him.
It was going to be a long bloody evening.
He’d gone missing.
