Harriet pressed her lips together at once. "Something is always afoot."
“Indeed, but there is no need for anyone else to be aware of that fact.” Then Margaret turned her focus toward Corinna once more. The girl was still laughing with the small group around her, so joyful, so full of life. How to manage her, how indeed…
Miss Corinna Beckett had never paid quite so much attention to the back of anyone's head. Of course, she was not, as a rule, the sort of woman who required two attempts at a hairstyle or three attempts at a dress either.
And yet here she was, in her third choice of gown with her hair done twice, doing her best to focus on Mr. Atherton's enthusiastic account of Astley's Amphitheatre. It would have been considerably easier if the Duke of Linthorpe wasn't standing approximately twenty feet behind her left shoulder.
She had not looked at him. She was rather proud of herself for not looking at him.
Of course, she had looked once, earlier. She had timed it carefully, waiting until she was reasonably certain his attention was elsewhere. Just briefly, just long enough to confirm what she had suspected the moment she walked into the drawing room. He was exactly as she remembered from the Plumstead ball all those weeks ago. Linthorpe was tall, fair-haired, and possessed a certain quality of stillness, even in a crowded room. It was that quality that had first caught her attention some weeks ago. That and the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Cori had looked away before he could turn around.
Her sister Cara was watching her. Cori could feel it the way she always felt her eldest sister's attention, a warmth at the edge of her peripheral vision that was fond and a little too perceptive for comfort. Of course, Cait was watching too, in her own way, which was less warm and more like the feeling of being quietly assessed by someone who was very good at keeping their conclusions to themselves. Both of them knew, of course. Both of them had known for weeks that she was a tiny bit infatuated with the duke, but neither of them had said anything about it this evening, which Cori appreciated enormously.
Still, she had every intention of giving them nothing to report to each other afterward.
"The horses are the most extraordinary part," Mr. Atherton was saying, with an engaging enthusiasm. "They do things on horseback I would not have believed possible if I had not seen them with my own eyes. One fellow stood on the saddle at a full gallop and I am fairly certain my heart stopped."
"Stood on the saddle?" Cori said, her interest genuine. She had heard of Astley's at some point since arriving in London but she still hadn’t yet been. "At a full gallop?"
"At a full gallop," Mr. Atherton confirmed with great satisfaction. "And then he jumped. And landed. Still at the gallop."
"Good heavens," Cori breathed out.
"I nearly fell off my seat," the gentleman agreed. "Which is considerably less impressive but still speaks to the effect."
"Are the horses well treated?" she asked, because she could not help it, and because it was always the first thing she needed to know.
Mr. Atherton blinked at her. "I believe so," he said, more carefully. "They’re magnificent animals. Well-fed, well-muscled, clearly trained with considerable patience. Nothing about them suggested distress."
"Then I should very much like to see a show," Cori declared, as her mind raced with his description of the venue.
"I would be glad to arrange a party," Mr. Atherton said, and Cori had the impression he meant it entirely. "Before everyone leaves London, if you'd like."
"Miss Corinna would probably end up in the ring," Lucien said, from beside her, which from Lucien was the equivalent of a warm compliment.
"I think you are confusing me with Cait,” Cori said. “I would be very well-behaved, Captain Gates. On that I can promise you.”
"I have never confused the two of you before," Lucien replied dryly. “No, no, I can just imagine you in the ring, making certain all the horses were happy and doing exactly what they wanted and beholden to no one else.”
She laughed at the image he painted. He had known her since she was in leading strings and was rather accurate in his depiction.
All things considered, this evening was going rather well. Whatever else happened or didn’t happen tonight, she was in pleasant company in a warm room and was glad to be there. Of course, she’d been glad about coming since the duchess first mentioned it.
She had also been in the drawing room for the better part of an hour without exchanging a single word with His Grace. She was starting to think that was not composure but avoidance.
Supper was announced, and Mr. Atherton offered her his arm with the easy manner of someone who’d decided they were friends and saw no reason to make a production of it.
"You will tell me," he began as they followed the others toward the dining room, "if I have overstated the horses. I should hate to set expectations too high and have you disappointed, Miss Corinna."
"If the horses are half as remarkable as you've described, I shall be perfectly satisfied."
"They’re at least three quarters as remarkable," Mr. Atherton said, with great seriousness. "I was being conservative."
She was smiling when she sat down, which was useful, because she needed something to do with her face when she looked up and found herself directly beside the Duke of Linthorpe.
Oh, goodness!
