Ashton studied Nicole’s face. By now, he could read her expressions pretty well, and right now, she looked panicked. At least panic was the underlining expression that she tried to hide with a smile. She certainly did not want anyone to know her father.
“My father’s name is François Bastian. His mother was French, although my father and his siblings were raised in England.”
Ashton took his focus off Nicole to glance between Glynn and Steve. Recognition had not struck their expressions.
“I suppose you’re right, Miss Bastian,” Glynn finally said with a laugh. “I haven’t heard of him at all.”
Nicole’s shoulders relaxed, as did the tightness in her face. Even Ashton expelled a relieved sigh. Well, at least for now, he felt comforted. Perhaps his friends were wrong about her. He could only hope.
“I haven’t, either.” Steve shook his head.
When the room grew quiet, Mrs. Browning rose from her chair and cleared her throat. “Mr. Lee, what do you say if we all played a game of Whist?” She glanced at Nicole. “Does that not sound enjoyable?”
Although Ashton didn’t think playing a card game sounded enjoyable, he was willing to play if only to keep his mind occupied for a little while. “Yes, that does sound enjoyable. I’ll get the cards.”
“Mrs. Larson,” Mrs. Browning said, “help me set up the table.” She moved to the gaming table toward the window.
As Ashton collected the cards, he thought back to the beginning of the evening. His goal had been to sneak Nicole away from the group for a little privacy in hopes of stealing more kisses. Now his hope for the evening was to make it through without her suspecting his thoughts. He had always believed a person innocent until proven guilty, but right now, his breaking heart was telling him he allowed another woman to play him for a fool once again.
NICOLE’S HOPES OF HAVING Ashton escort her home were squashed when he had kissed her on the hand and turned her over to Mr. Nickerson and Mrs. Browning. Even the carriage ride back to the hotel had been agonizing, not because of her escorts but because she had stewed over Ashton’s mood. Something was off, and it had happened when he stepped away to speak privately with the other two railroad partners.
She couldn’t sleep at all that night, and even now, in the bright morning, she couldn’t stop thinking over everything that had happened as she sat at the table, eating her breakfast of fruit and scones. The house seemed abnormally quiet this morning, but she wouldn’t worry about that. There were more important matters to ponder.
She hadn’t enjoyed the questions Ashton’s friends threw out about her family. The only way they would know her father was if they had worked with him, either with the police force or as a detective. The same was true with her brother, Gordon. He was the master of disguise, and rarely let anyone get to know the real man.
She lied and told everyone at the gathering that her father’s name was Francois. Well, that wasn’t really a lie. His first name was Francois, but he had always used his middle name, Conrad. She didn’t want to take the chance of anyone knowing him or hearing about him.
As she finished her morning tea, footsteps on the corridor floor resounded through the near-empty house, bringing her out of her thoughts. Gordon walked in, his eyes were still puffy with sleep. When his gaze met hers, he nodded.
“Good morning, dear sister.”
“Good morning to you. I’ve been waiting for you to awaken so we can discuss what happened last night.”
He collected his plate and filled it with food from the side table before joining her. She patiently waited for him to sit, adjust the linen napkin on his lap, and take his first bite of sausage before he met her gaze.
“Ah yes, the dinner social you attended last night at Ashton Lee’s residence.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Yes, of course. Was there another place you needed to be?”
He flipped his hand. “Not until afterward.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes, not wanting to hear again about another woman he had secretly met up with. Gordon was such a womanizer. She feared he would never settle down.
“You were there, correct,” she snapped. “And were you able to sneak through his study?”
“I was there.” He bit into his scone and munched as his gaze stuck to hers. After he swallowed, he nodded. “But I wasn’t able to get much done.”
“I don’t understand.” Irritation pumped through her. “I kept Mr. Lee’s party in the dining room for an hour, just as you had wanted. Why were you not able to get much done in an hour?”
Gordon huffed and leaned his forearms on the table, meeting her glare. “Ashton Lee has servants, were you aware of that?”
“Well, of course. What man of wealth doesn’t have servants?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “I was able to get inside his study, but I was interrupted quite a few times when his servants walked by the room.”
“Oh, that is utter nonsense,” she snapped. “All you had to do was close the door. That was what I did when I searched through Lord Reynolds’ study.”
“I did close the door.” His voice rose in anger. “But one of the servants opened it up. That was when I decided I had better not close it again, or they would become suspicious.”
