“They’re so gorgeous I couldn’t resist buying them from a flower seller,” she said after the footman departed.
“Indeed. I do hope Henry doesn’t drop that urn. I believe it’s Sèvres.”
Jason disliked having to question her. But question her, he must. Greywood had left her very wealthy. Lizzie had been barely out of the schoolroom when she married in her first Season. She was of a trusting nature. Well, he was not. “You look very pleased with something, my dear. I doubt it’s the flowers alone.”
“Not entirely. A gentleman and I have had a pleasant promenade in the park.”
Jason shifted his shoulders. “Yes, Sally told me. I saw his calling card.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
Jason placed his compendium of Wordsworth poetry he read in his quiet moments on the side table. He was doubtful there’d be too many of those for a while as he turned in the wingchair to better view Lizzie on the sofa. “Who is this Baron Bianchi?”
“He has an estate in Florence. An ancient baronetcy. The baron is visiting London for a few months.”
“Why has he come to England?”
She smoothed her gray skirts and fixed him with a determined gaze. “Does he need a reason?”
“A man generally does,” Jason said gently.
“He is here on business.” She shrugged. “I knew you would be suspicious!”
“I believe it to be prudent. Until the facts are before me.”
She eyed him with a calculating expression. “You would not feel that way if he was an English gentleman.”
“I’d be no less so. It’s my duty to care for your interests, Lizzie.” Greywood had wished it, although Jason didn’t want to remind her of it. He rose and went to the drinks tray on the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “A glass of Madeira? Or would you prefer me to ring for tea?”
“Madeira. I feel in need of some fortifying.”
Jason laughed as he handed her the glass. “Do you think your older brother an ogre?”
She smiled. “Certainly not. A bit stuffy perhaps.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I shall ignore that, as I suspect it’s meant to distract me from my purpose.” His grin slid away. “But why you feel the need for fortification does worry me a little.”
She sighed. “Promise me you will meet him.”
“I fully intend to.”
“Then I shall invite him to dinner.”
“Excellent notion.” He returned to his chair and crossed his legs. “However, there’s no reason why you can’t tell me more about him in the interim.”
She sipped from her glass. “Bianchi is about your age, has never married, and, like me, is interested in Italian Renaissance art. He is handsome and good company. Will that suit?”
“It’s a beginning. Why has he never married?”
“One might ask you the same question.”
Jason shook his head. “We are discussing this new swain of yours.” He would be deeply pleased to see the change in his sister, if only he could be sure the man merited it.
“He told me he planned to marry, but his fiancée died. It broke his heart.” She gave a heavy sigh. “So you see, we have much in common.”
A common interest in art and a broken heart seemed a tad too convenient. Jason suspected the situation could become challenging. He returned her smile and took a deep gulp of brandy. This would need to be settled before he was called back to the Queen’s Walk on Kinsey’s return. “Send Henry with a message. Invite the baron to dinner this evening.”
“I’m sure he will be grateful. This is his first trip to England and he knows very few people here. But it will put poor Cook in a flap.”
