“Who is Mr. Tweed?” Cissa demanded.
“Put him in the parlor. I shall speak with him shortly, after I’ve gotten rid of these three, Bertram,” Ambrose said.
“We are not going anywhere,” Violet said. “Who is Mr. Tweed?”
“A private investigator that I employed to look into cults and anything to do with what is going on below the clubs. I also asked him to have someone watch the entrance to the street. And…” Ambrose’s words fell away when he realized what he was going to say.
“And?”
“And nothing,” he snapped, regaining his feet. “Now leave so I can dress.”
“We are not leaving. Andwhat?” Violet demanded.
“I don’t have to tell you,” he said, sounding petulant. Sisters. They made you behave in ways you rarely did when not in their company.
“Tell us, or we will move into your town house,” Cissa said.
The thought had his knees going weak. “Fine. I asked him to look into some other people for me.”
“Who?” Cissa asked.
“You have crumbs around your mouth,” Ambrose told her.
“Who?” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Mother taught you better than that, surely?”
“Ambrose. Who are you investigating?”
“Howard, all right? His eyes are too close together,” Ambrose muttered.
“Mr. Howard, who is enamored with Tilly?” Violet asked. “How interesting.”
“How many other Mr. Howards do you know?” he snapped back.
Violet and Cissa smiled then, and Tavi sipped her tea calmly.
“Get out!”
They did, but only, he knew, to stand outside his door while he dressed. When had his life become so complicated? A few years ago, his most pressing concern was where he was eating his midday meal.And you were bored silly.
First the Pavlov fortune, and the Nightingale family turning his life on its head, and now Tilly. The truth was, the minute he’d met her, he’d known she was trouble for him, but he’d tried to deny that. When he did finally acknowledge how he felt, she’d not reciprocated.
He washed and dressed with the help of Bertram, who had slipped into the room, looking harassed. No doubt his sisters had questioned him.
Staring at his image in the mirror, he saw the man he always was when he left the house, with one subtle difference that only he could see: His heart was hurting.
His mind went back to two days ago, when he’d kissed Tilly. She had responded, he’d felt it, and then she’d walked away from him. Could there be more to her decision? Was Violet right? Did Tilly have secrets that made her refuse his proposal?
Stepping from the room, he didn’t see his sisters, but he heard them as he neared the stairs. He stepped off the last step to find them discussing his interior furnishings.
“I think this entranceway needs another painting. Something bright. It’s dreary,” Cissa said.
“And perhaps some more pillows on the sofas,” Tavi added.
“I think some color on the walls could help,” Violet said.
“Cease, brats,” Ambrose said. “I like my town house exactly as it is.”
