He put down his knife and fork and reached for his glass, sitting back to study her. “You should not concern yourself with such things. Never fear, your husband will keep you safe.”
Conveniently shut away somewhere, Thea thought, or worse. “Oh, how reassuring!” She forced her lips into the semblance of a smile and dipped her spoon into an elaborate chocolate custard piled high with cream, which tasted bland. As she had failed to learn anything of interest from him, she could visualize Grainger raising a dark eyebrow and shaking his head. While she had hoped to draw Farnborough out to talk about himself, except for mentioning his stepdaughter, Julia, he denied her any glimpse into his life. He didn’t seem fond of the child, though whether that might be useful to Grainger, she did not know.
Her gaze darted around the supper room, searching for Grainger. She couldn’t see him.
“Are you looking for someone, Miss Tothill?” Farnborough asked, his brows snapping together.
“Miss Birken. I shall speak to her presently. I am in need of another ballgown and am most anxious to learn the name of her modiste.” Thea put down her spoon and dabbed at her lips with her napkin.
“You don’t care for sweets?”
“Ordinarily I do, but I am a little tired. I have yet to grow used to city hours.”
Farnborough nodded and rose. “I can easily picture you in a garden, Miss Tothill,” he said as a footman pulled out her chair for her to rise. “You appear to have a fondness for the outdoors.”
Air rushed from her lungs. Could he be hinting that he’d seen her in the garden? Was it a warning? Her mouth became dry, and she feared her voice would betray her. She swallowed desperately, praying he did not notice how her hand trembled when she rested it on his proffered arm. “I do. How clever of you to realize it, my lord. We have a fine park at home in the Cotswolds.”
He nodded but said no more on their way back to her grandmother.
Seated once again, Thea sank back, exhausted, nervously entwining her fingers. Was that a test to find out how much she knew? Perhaps she’d overreacted. It was a fairly innocuous statement. But had he spied the alarm in her eyes? Heard it in her voice?
“Did you enjoy your supper, Thea?” Grandmama broke into her tangled thoughts. “Lord Farnborough is an engaging gentleman, is he not?”
“I don’t find him so, Grandmama.”
“Don’t you? I am at a loss to see why. He is only in his mid-thirties and quite attractive.” Grandmama gave a knowledgeable nod. “I suspect it is the handsome Lord Grainger who has swayed you from Farnborough.” She patted Thea’s hand, forcing her to release her tightly coiled fingers. “I am told by Lady Mullin, who learned from her son, Frederick, that Lord Grainger does not intend to marry for some years. She was most disheartened to hear of it, as her youngest daughter, Barbara, is in her second Season. Barbara has an unfortunate squint, poor girl. So don’t get your hopes up, child. Grainger dances with the debutantes to obey his grandfather, who is inordinately fond of him but is not prepared to marry to please him, it seems. Such a sad family.”
Pushing thoughts of Farnborough aside, Thea turned to her. “Why sad, Grandmama?”
“Lord Grainger’s mother and father, and his grandmother, were killed.”
“Oh, how dreadful? What happened?”
“A carriage accident. I’m not sure of the details.”
“Oh!” Thea put her hands to her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes, and her heart ached for him. No wonder he seemed so troubled. It was wrong to be critical of him when he was trying to protect her. She had found his officious manner annoying, the way he ordered her about, but now she understood the reason for it. And she had to admit, he was right in his estimation of Farnborough. The man was far too wily for her.
“How does Papa come to know Lord Farnborough, Grandmama? I don’t recall seeing Papa with him before.”
Grandmama raised her eyebrows. “I have no idea, Thea. Perhaps they belong to the same club. You might ask your father. Though why you wish to know puzzles me if the man doesn’t interest you.”
“He is unlike any of Papa’s friends.”
“Is he? I daresay one can have a variety of friends.”
“I suppose so.” Grainger would wish to hear what she and Farnborough talked about, even though none of it was enlightening. If she wandered about, he might come to find her. “I must go to the ladies’ withdrawing room, Grandmama. I shan’t be long.”
“Very well, but don’t dawdle. We shall leave as soon as your father returns.”
Thea hurried through the ballroom. It grew very late, and the crowd had thinned. She yawned behind her glove, suddenly tired. Poor Grandmama, how exhausted she must be.
Thea kept a wary eye out for Farnborough as she pushed through the assembled guests still gathered around the ballroom. She could not spot him or Grainger in the crowd so slipped into the corridor leading to the ladies’ withdrawing room.
Gazing back to see if someone followed, she walked straight into a gentleman and trod on his toe.
“Ouch.” A dark-haired man with graying sideburns winked at her. “Where are you off to, Miss, in such a hurry?”
It would be indelicate to say. Especially as she didn’t know him. He was somewhere in his fifties, and she didn’t particularly like the look of him. His scarlet waistcoat, which stretched over his rounded belly, matched his red face, and there was something glassy about his eyes. Even from this distance, she could smell the brandy on his breath.
