“This…courtship.” Lachlan bit off the word, as if it tasted foul. “Does Lady Chase know of it? Have you written to Finn?”
“No!” Oh, this would become an awful tangle indeed if her family got involved. Whatever it was she intended to do, it had to be done quickly. “It’s a recent development only, and I, um…well, I’d just as soon keep it to myself for now.”
“You haven’t toldanyone? Not even Isla?”
Hyacinth bit her lip. “No, only you, but I will tell Isla.” She had quite a lot to say to Isla, and if what Lord Dixon claimed was true, to hear even more from her in return.
Lachlan’s jaw ticked. “A day at most, Hyacinth, then you either tell Lady Chase, or I will.”
“Yes, of course. I promise. Lachlan? Is there something…”
Oh, she wanted so badly to ask him if he was keeping something from her—from all of them—but her mouth refused to form the words. Lachlan was no liar. If he was hiding something, she knew with all her heart he was doing it to protect someone. Perhaps he was wrong to do so, but he would only ever hide something if he believed he had to.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I just—I’m sorry we argued at the Sedleys’ ball. It seems I was wrong about not needing your help, after all. I’m glad you came after me tonight.”
He took a step closer to her, his eyes going soft as they met hers. “I’ll always come after you,leannan, and not because I don’t think you’re brave. I do.” A faint smile twisted his lips, and he reached out and tugged gently at a stray curl resting against her shoulder. “You’re the bravest English lass I know.”
Hyacinth flushed with pleasure. “I am? Do you know a great many?”
“No. Only you and your sisters. But they’re both fierce enough.”
“They are, indeed,” Hyacinth agreed, her lips twitching.
He held out his arm to her. “Let’s find the others. I’ve had enough of this ball.”
Hyacinth nodded and took his arm.
They’d made it halfway across the terrace when she realized she had something tucked into her other hand. She opened her fist, surprised she’d just now noticed it, and glanced down at the object resting in her palm.
It was a small bit of paraffin wax, one end of it worked into a point, rather like a pencil.
She blinked down at it in confusion. Where in the world had it come from? She certainly hadn’t had it when she came out to the terrace, so where—
Lord Dixon’s waistcoat.
She’d grabbed at his waistcoat to push him away, and at one point she’d gotten her hand into the small pocket. She’d been in a panic, clutching at whatever she could reach, and she must have snatched the odd bit of wax without realizing it. When Lachlan shoved Lord Dixon back, she’d pulled it free.
There was no other explanation for it—nowhere else it could have come from.
She snapped her fist closed, hiding the wax in her palm.
Ciaran had said something about Lord Dixon’s gaming, hadn’t he? She wracked her brain, trying to remember.
Lord Dixon plays deep, and wins often.
She peeked down at the wax again, her stomach twisting. Not one in a hundred ladies would understand what that bit of wax meant, but Hyacinth was one of the few who did.
Last year, when she’d been in Brighton, she’d become friends with a young lady who’d confided to Hyacinth that her brother had nearly been killed in a duel that past spring, after he’d been caught marking cards. He’d done it by drawing a pattern of lines on the backs of the cards to indicate the number and suit. The lines were invisible to the naked eye, but if one knew they were there, they could see the patterns when the light hit the cards at a certain angle.
He’d drawn the lines with a tiny bit of wax he kept hidden in his palm.
Hyacinth stared down at the wax, her breath catching hard in her chest. She could think of only one reason a gentleman would keep a bit of wax secreted away in his waistcoat pocket.
Lord Dixon was a card cheat.
Chapter Eighteen
