His hair was brown and cut in the latest style, his clothes elegant but not flamboyant. She tried and failed to come up with anything in her memory that she had heard about him. Like her, he had just always been there at society gatherings. They’d attended the same events, but their paths had rarely crossed. But now it did indeed seem as if he was showing an interest in her, which seemed odd, considering they’d been in society together since she came out four years ago.
“Very much, Mr. Howard.”
“I have just finishedThe Vampireby John William Polidori,” he said.
“I have not read that. Did you enjoy it, sir?” Tilly had it on her list of books to read.
“I wonder if you know it was taken from the story told by Lord Byron, Miss Wilson, and that it was written as part of a contest among Polidori, Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, and Percy Shelly?”
“I did know that, Mr. Howard, as I have readFrankenstein, which was part of that contest.”
He smiled, and it made his face change. The pleasant facade had a boyish charm now. Another face slid into herhead, but she pushed it aside. Ambrose could never be anything more than her best friend’s brother, even if they had shared kisses.
“Well then, we must discuss this further when I take you driving, but for now, let me escort you back inside, as I believe the recital is about to start, and Lady Crisp was correct in that you shouldn’t be out here alone with me.”
“I would enjoy that, thank you, Mr. Howard,” Tilly said as she stepped through the door and back into the room.
A tingling feeling down her spine had her looking to the left as she walked with Mr. Howard to where the seats had been set up, and she met a pair of narrowed green eyes. Nodding to Lord Talbot, Tilly continued to where her parents sat.
“Tilly!”
Looking at the seated guests, she found Violet waving to her. Beside her sat Charles and the rest of the Nightingale family. “There is a spare seat here!”
“I will bid you good evening, Miss Wilson. I hope you enjoy the show,” Mr. Howard said, leaving her with another bow.
Tilly moved past the other guests to the seat beside Violet.
“Well, now I am happy. The man I love on my right and my best friend, whom I also love, on my left.”
“I love you, too, darling,” Charles said, kissing his wife’s cheek.
Being in love, Tilly had observed, was an all-encompassing thing. The happiness of the person you loved was linked to your own. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, being an independent type, but thought it could be uncomfortable at times.
“Good evening, Charles,” Tilly said.
“Good evening, Tilly. I’ve wanted to chat with you aboutwriting an article forThe Tuba,” he said. “Violet told me you are excellent at writing.”
“Oh, well, I would not say that, but I like to write things?—”
“That poem you wrote was excellent,” Violet said.
“It was one poem, hardly a long and arduous piece,” Tilly protested.
“I want an article on the trials of opening a women’s club,” Charles continued. “The ups and downs.”
“There are plenty of those,” Tilly said.
“Excellent. Give it some thought, then.”
She did while he and Violet talked about the paper. Could she really write something like that?
“Why were you walking in from outside with Mr. Howard?” The deep words were said into her ear.
Turning slightly, she looked at Ambrose who had taken the seat behind hers.
“And what business is that of yours?”
“I am watching out for your reputation,” he replied.
