Mr. Dorian tilted his head, attempting a look of only mild interest. “Oh?”
“There was a fellow that came with him to the auction sometimes. Not very friendly, though, and kept to himself so we were never properly introduced. But if you can find him, he might know more about who Charles worked with.”
“It will be difficult without a name,” Mr. Dorian said dryly.
“Sir Armstrong-Hughes might know,” Mr. Buckley suggested. But that avenue was quite closed to us.
“What did he look like?” I ventured.
The man paused to think. “Well, he was taller than Charles. And his hair was a similar color, though he always had a hat on.”
“I see,” Mr. Dorian replied flatly at this rather generic description.
“Oh!” Mr. Buckley suddenly exclaimed. “I did think it looked rather long for a gentleman. Nearly to his shoulders, in fact,” he added, sounding slightly scandalized.
My stomach did a little flip. That sounded like a general description of the baron. And it was certainly possible that Lord Linden would have come to this auction with Charles.
“Thank you, Buckley. That is all very helpful,” Mr. Dorian replied a tad sardonically, but that was lost on the man.
“Glad to hear it. Now then, I had better get to my seat!” he said before hurrying past us.
“Come on.” Mr. Dorian took my arm and led me to the cloakroom, where we quickly retrieved our coats, and then stepped out into the night.
“I think he may have seen the baron,” I said once we were a few steps away from the house.
“Do you?” Mr. Dorian then considered this. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“But why would he be so secretive about coming here?”
Mr. Dorian shrugged. “Sometimes these avid collectors don’t want people knowing what they have on hand.”
It was reminiscent of Mr. Henshaw’s explanation for hiding the identity of the buyer for Delia’s painting. “I suppose.”
The air had grown quite chilly, and I instinctively hugged my arms close to my chest.
Mr. Dorian then pressed a hand to the small of my back as he guided me towards the waiting carriage. I jolted at the familiarity of his touch, and a rush of heat swept through me from head to foot as I remembered our embrace from only minutes ago.
“Please give Mrs. Langham my regrets,” I began, keeping my gaze firmly ahead. “Unless you think it’s better not to mention it at all.”
It.Goodness, I couldn’t even bring myself to say the wordkiss.
Mr. Dorian stopped in his tracks, and I was forced to look at him. His brow was furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I … what we did. In the study,” I said haltingly. But as soon as the words were out, I was swamped with regret. It probably hadn’t even crossed his mind to mention it in the first place. And now he thought me deranged for even bringing it up. “Never mind,” I added. “Forget I said anything.” Then I began to hurry away, as if I could outrun my embarrassment.
But Mr. Dorian was beside me in an instant. “Wait,” he said as he grabbed my arm to stop me. “I don’t understand. What does Mrs. Langham have to do with anything?”
I let out an exasperated huff. Now he was just taunting me. “Because I know she is your mistress. And I certainly wouldn’t like it if my paramour kissed another woman. No matter the circumstances.”
Mr. Dorian stared at me with a bemused expression. “I told you. We’re only friends.”
“You never said anything of the sort, actually,” I said hotly. “And there is no need for you to hide your relationship. I am not so naïve that I expect a grown man to live like a monk. Do whatever you want. But please don’t lie to me.”
His eyebrows rose in shock, and I turned away again, but he moved to block my path. “I amnotlying. I have known Mrs. Langham for years, and she has only ever been a friend to me.”
I crossed my arms and looked away. “Fine.”
“It’s true,” he insisted. “I met her through her father.”
