“Nonsense,” Chris said. “You should eat. Whitely says you have skipped a few meals. I would be insulted if you didn’t break bread with me, just because I am a poor blind man.”
That remark did finally make all three of them chuckle. Chris was one of the most fortunate of men despite his impairment. Nevertheless, as they all knew, good fortune could change in the blink of an eye.
Tamping down his constant, seething anger at knowing the killer was freely walking the streets of London, Owen agreed to dine with his friends.
*
Adelia was mostunhappy when the butler informed her she had a visitor. Her brother was out, and she had never thought to tell Mr. Lockley she wasn’t seeing visitors for the simple reason that she never had any.
For an instant, she considered it might be Lord Burnley, as their paths had intersected more than once, and she couldn’t get the man or his blue eyes out of her thoughts. The viscount had asked her if they had ever danced. She couldn’t blame him for not being sure, despite her recalling their two dances with pleasure. Her heartbeat sped up at seeing him again, and her unfamiliar reaction intrigued her nearly as much as it frightened her.
However, when Mr. Lockley said it was Mr. Victor Beaumont, their company engineer, she felt a frisson of alarm.
“Please tell him my brother is away.” Undoubtedly, it was Thomas he wanted to see.
“He asked for you, my lady.”
More and more disturbing! After what her brother had told her, that their engineer had expressed an interest in her, she was even less inclined to meet with him alone.
Hailing her maid to accompany her, Adelia entered the parlor where Mr. Beaumont was standing, his back to her as he looked at the ceiling.
Behind him, she peered upward.What was he looking at?
Finally, she cleared her throat to alert him to her presence. He turned quickly, wearing a pleasant smile, his shrewd brown eyes staring at her from a plain but not unkind face.
“Lady Adelia, so good to see you.” He took a step toward her, and she steeled herself to keep from retreating as he took hold of her hand with both of his, imprisoning it. Next, he lifted it to his mustached mouth and soundly kissed her knuckles, more than once.
Not quite properly done, she thought.
“Mr. Beaumont,” she murmured, tugging to free her hand, which he released.
“Good crown molding, if I do say so.”
Luckily, that statement required no response, so she merely nodded.
“May we sit?” he asked.
She hesitated.Oh dear! Was it too late to simply leave the room and let her brother deal with the man upon his return?
She nodded, then glanced at the far end of the room to make certain Penny was on a chair by the potted ferns before she sat. Gesturing for him to do the same on the far side of the coffee table, she waited.
If Mr. Beaumont launched into any kind of flowery speech about her attributes, she was fully prepared to get up and walk out.
“I am worried about your brother.”
Of all the things he could have said, that might be the most unexpected.
“Whyever for?” she asked. She had taken breakfast with Thomas that very morning, and he had seemed perfectly fine and in good spirits for the upcoming day.
“He seemed quite overwrought about something the other day when we met to talk business, and his usually calm manner was rattled, to say the least. I wonder if you know what has him disturbed?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t marked anything strange about him.
“Really?” Mr. Beaumont sounded surprised. “I suppose as he is now head of the family, he seeks to keep anything from you, which might upset you.”
Upset her?
On the contrary, they usually told each other everything, as close as any brother and sister could be. Which reminded her again of Owen Burnley losing his sister Sophia. Strangely, her thoughts seemed to keep returning to the viscount.
