True love.
Which she’d finally discovered with a dashingly handsome British private detective.
And Evie wasn’tjealous. That would be absurd. Kincaid didn’t even have a title, for heaven’s sake. But apparently that did not matter to Joanna. Why would it, when she was set to inherit a fortune?Ifshe accepted the marquess’ generosity, that is. Knowing how stubborn and perverse her sister could be, Evie wouldn’t be surprised if Joanna refused to take a single penny from her birth father. Especially now that she had something worth more than all the money in the world.
Rising from the bed, she glanced at Rosemary. And frowned when she saw her cousin’s crestfallen expression. The poor thing looked like a dog that had been ordered beneath the table after trying to sneak a treat. Ears back, tail curled, eyes down.
This wouldn’t do.
This wouldn’t do at all.
“Ignore whatever your grandmother and thetonsays,” she ordered as she crossed the room to rest her hands on Rosemary’s shoulders. They were approximately the same height, allowing her to look straight into her cousin’s anxious gaze. “You are intelligent, and witty, and charmingly different. If someone chooses to ridicule those traits which I so admire in you, then that speaks more to their character than to your own. Because you do have friends. Wonderful ones, if I do say so myself. You have me, and Joanna, and Claire.Weare your friends, and your family, and you need never feel alone again.”
“I…I am not sure what to say,” Rosemary whispered, her blue-gray eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“You don’t have to say anything at all. I–oomph,” Evie grunted as Rosemary threw her arms around her in a tight embrace. She’d forgotten how much her cousin adored hugs. Gently extricating herself from Rosemary’s strong grip, she retrieved her shawl and shoes. “Would you care to come find my lamb with me? I gave her to a footman to be bathed, and he should be finished soon if he isn’t done already.”
“You have a pet lamb? How dear!” Rosemary cried, bouncing on her heels in delight. “Oh, how I wish Sir Reginald had been up for the trip. He would have loved to meet her.”
“Maybe next time.” Linking arms, the cousins went off in search of Posy.
Chapter Twelve
Evie was notat the receiving dinner.
As discreetly as possible, Weston sipped his port and searched for her amidst the sea of familiar faces. He saw the Duke of Hanover, trapped in the corner between two starry-eyed mothers with a bevy of marriageable daughters between them. He saw Lord Ellis, notable for his long white mustache and wandering eye. He saw the Earl of Crancroft, an old friend of his father’s who drank like a fish, and his wife, Lady Crancroft, a tall, shrewish woman with the staccato laugh of a hyena (which probably explained the earl’s drinking). He nodded in his head in greeting at Mr. Henry Greer, the eldest son of a baron whom had recently joined him on the board of Midland Railway Company. And bowed politely when the Dowager Countess of Dunlop crossed his path.
But of Evie, he saw no sign, and when it was time for everyone to take their seats around the expansive dining room table, her chair was conspicuously empty.
For the duration of the seven-course meal, Weston engaged in small talk and even managed to stretch his mouth into something that vaguely resembled the shape of a smile when Lord Ellis shared an amusing story about finding a mouse in his boot. But his thoughts were far away, and it was only due to his well-known disdain for frivolous socialization that no one noticed he was particularly standoffish.
No one except for Brynne, that is.
“What is wrong with you?” she hissed, giving him a poke with her salad fork. She was seated directly to his left, the dowager countess was to his right. Sterling, as the guest with the highest ranking, had assumed the other chair of honor at the far end of the table, with all of the other guests filling in the space between. The mood was jovial and conversation flowed freely (as did the wine), but as the dinner dragged on, the storm cloud hanging over Weston’s head had only grown darker and more ominous with each passing minute that Evie did not arrive.
“Not everyone is here,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“We’ve more guests arriving tomorrow. The Smethwicks among them, if that is who you are concerned about. Did you see I invited Lady Ellinwood and her granddaughter, Miss Rosemary? We’ve not traveled in the same circles as them before, but given that Rosemary’s a cousin of the Thorncrofts–”
“How nice,” he interrupted. “WhereisMiss Thorncroft?”
Brynne brought a bite-sized piece of asparagus to her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin. “Why do you want Miss Thorncroft?”
“I don’twanther, I…” Scowling, he cut himself short. “Never mind. It is not important.”
“It sounds important.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you and she have a row? Because if you cannot manage to be polite for a day, this is going to be a very long month.”
Yes, it was.
But not for the reason his sister meant.
He should have been glad that Evie wasn’t sitting at the table. Four days ago, he would have welcomed her absence. But that was before.
Before she’d made him smile.
Before she’d challenged him with her wit.
Before she’d tempted him with her lips.
