And they have affairs with experienced widows. Likeyou.
I nearly dropped my teacup at the thought, but conceded that it certainly made a good deal more sense than him wanting to formally court me. Regardless of the man’s intentions, however, I knew what I wanted. And it wasn’t to be any man’s mistress. If that was his true intent, then Lord Linden would learn that soon enough.
Of course, it was impossible to ruminate on the subject of mistresses without thinking of Mr. Dorian and Mrs. Langham. I swallowed hard before the bitter taste could flood my mouth. It was the height of idiocy for me to feel disappointment, no matter how fleeting. He was nothing more to me than an acquaintance—and a particularly vexing one at that. What did I care how he spent his time and with whom?
I forced myself to think of Lord Linden. Of his delighted smile and the sensation of his lips against my knuckles, until my disagreeableness slowly melted into something softer. Though I could acknowledge that he was a handsome man, I didn’t feel that deep tug of attraction. But his attention was a distraction from more inconvenient feelings. And that would have to be enough.
Chapter 20
On the day of the auction, I was on a mission to tire out my son. First, I took Tommy to the British Museum’s reading room, so he could read up on the latest paleontological developments. After that, we wandered through the museum’s galleries. When he had finally gotten his fill, we took the long way home through Hyde Park. By suppertime, Tommy could barely hide his yawns, and he went to bed shortly afterwards without complaint.
Once I was certain he was asleep, I changed into the dark blue evening gown Delia had deemed not appropriate for the gallery opening, fixed my hair, and went to the parlor to wait.
By the time Mr. Dorian arrived, promptly at eight, I was strung as tightly as a piano wire and nearly shot out of my chair when Mrs. Ford came to announce him.
“Mr. Dorian is here, ma’am,” she said with a knowing look. Earlier, I had described him as an old friend from Corfu, but she had immediately assumed there was more between us. And my nervousness was not helping to dispel her misunderstanding.
“Very good,” I said in a strangled voice. “Send him in.”
Once she left, I wiped my damp palms on my skirt and hurried over to a mirror that hung on the wall. Somehow, I looked even more frazzled than I felt, and I did my best to smooth the curls that had sprung loose from their pins.
“Get a hold of yourself, Minnie,” I muttered. “He’s only a man, and you don’t evenlikehim.”
But I knew what a horrible lie that was. Speaking it aloud had only made me feel worse—and the truth that much harder to ignore. It had been far easier to bury my feelings while on Corfu, when he was only a slowly fading memory. Seeing him in the flesh, however, was making that task infinitely harder.
“Are you all right?”
I yelped and whirled around to find Mr. Dorian standing in the doorway with an amused expression on his face.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, which was not convincing in the least, and forced my arms to my sides.
Mr. Dorian strolled into the room, as calm as ever. His dark gaze quickly skimmed over me, and he gave an approving nod. “You look nice,” he said offhandedly, in the way one might compliment their favorite cousin or a hostess’s attempt at landscape painting. In other words, it was meaningless.
I would have rather he said nothing at all.
“Thank you. So do you,” I replied automatically. He raised an eyebrow, no doubt because I sounded even more awkward than I felt. Then I shook my head and hurried past him. “We should go.”
“If you’d like,” he said as he followed me out the door. “I had my driver park in the mews, in case you wanted to avoid any prying eyes.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
Once I fetched my coat, we exited through the back of the house. Mr. Dorian helped me into his waiting coach and then climbed in after me.
“I mentioned your thought about disguises to Mrs. Langham,” he began. I immediately stiffened at the mention of his mistress, but thankfully he didn’t seem to notice, as he was busy fiddling with a package on the seat beside him. “While I don’t need one, she agreed it would be a good idea to conceal your identity to some extent. So she lent me this.” Mr. Dorian then handed me the package, which turned out to be a hat box.
I cast him a curious look and opened it. Inside was a black velvet hat with a short veil. I gingerly took it out. “It’s beautiful.”
“As I recall, we employed a similar ruse on our journey to Paxos, and that seemed to work well enough.”
“Yes. It did,” I said. We had also posed as lovers on an illicit getaway, as well as a married couple, over the course of that short trip.
“Then you have no objection to using the same stratagem once again.”
I lifted my chin a little. “Not at all.” I could handle pretending to be Mr. Dorian’s mysterious paramour for the space of a few hours. After Paxos, it would feel like child’s play.
He held my gaze with an inscrutable look. “I just wanted to be sure,” he murmured.
As my mouth went dry, I turned away, telling myself I needed to try on the hat and not because he unnerved me. “We’re only going to be asking questions, anyway,” I said, more for myself than him, as I fixed the hat to my head.
