“Of course.”
“Nor do they need Lance and Whitmere in order to attend the ball. Lady DeVere is sending an invitation directly to Miss Russell, for example.”
“You arranged that, did you? That will be a treat, although the thought of arriving alone might put her off the idea.”
“I will escort her. Unlike you and Lance, I do not have to pretend I am in mourning.”
“Whitmere may still go, for all of Lance’s hoping they will play at being naughty schoolboys instead. I trust you will not make a scene if he asks Miss Russell to dance. She has caught his eye, that is clear.”
“I may warn her that his intentions are not honorable, but I will not make a scene.”
Ives laughed. “Hell, you do sound like a vicar. Where is all this talk of honorable intentions coming from?” His smile remained broad, but his gaze turned piercing. “What is this woman to you? Is she your lover?”
It was a hell of a question, and unexpected. “No.” The honest truth, in the present tense, not that his body had accepted the new order well.
“Then perhaps you should let the lady draw her own conclusions about Whitmere. She looked sensible and mature. It is unlikely she will not perceive the truth of his intentions, whatever they might be.”
Still angry, but not so inexplicably black-minded, Gareth forced his thoughts to other things. “Tell me about these meetings, so I can make arrangements for my dear guests to be occupied without me during those times.”
CHAPTER18
Eva dropped the letter of introduction into her reticule, then made her way to Sarah’s sitting room. They would all be on their own today. Gareth had business with Lord Ywain, so he would not escort them around town.
A decision had been made to take the opportunity to pursue their own interests. Wesley planned to visit some men of business that he knew. Sarah wanted to shop, and would take her maid as company. Rebecca had chosen to tag along with Eva while she paid a call on Mary Moser, the woman painter she had long admired.
“You must take the carriage,” Sarah said when Eva arrived.
“You are the one likely to have packages. Rebecca and I will ask a footman to bring a hired carriage around.”
“I will agree, if you promise to be careful and to fight off any young men who start following our perfect gem.” She beamed in Rebecca’s direction. “Of course they all notice her, and some look at her too boldly, to my thinking.”
“I will fight them off myself, Sarah,” Rebecca said. “I do not see much in the young men roving the streets that would be appealing to any girl.”
“They certainly do not look to have the substance of Mr. Mansfield,” Sarah said while she tied on her bonnet.
“Nor the artistic soul of Mr. Trenton,” Rebecca said.
Sarah shook her head in exasperation, then looked around for her reticule. “Where did I—”
A rap on the door interrupted. Her maid hurried over to see who had come. A white letter passed out of a footman’s white glove. With an expression of surprise, the maid brought it to Eva.
Eva examined the letter. She had never seen anything quite like it. The paper must be the finest made. Thick, heavy, and rich, its finely laid surface might have been velvet under her fingers. An elaborately engraved escutcheon decorated its outside. With Rebecca and Sarah hovering near her shoulders, she opened it.
The finest hand had written a personal invitation for Miss Russell to attend a ball being held by the Earl and Countess DeVere next week.
“Well, I’ll be—” Sarah muttered in a voice full of awe. “Do you think a mistake was made and it was intended for Rebecca?”
“Of course, no mistake was made,” Rebecca said. “I think a countess knows that if one addresses a letter to Miss Russell, it will go to the eldest sister.”
Eva was not so sure. A mistake made more sense than this coming to her.
“You must go,” Rebecca said.
“I am not sure I must, or that I want to. It makes no sense that I received this. I do not know these people, nor do they know me.”
“Someone arranged it, then,” Sara said. “Mr. Fitzallen perhaps.”
“If so, you really must go, Eva,” Rebecca said. “It would be rude to refuse, after all his hospitality. And it is an earl’s ball.”
