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The ladies excused themselves to use the necessary.
Tobias stood to stretch his legs and braced himself for the usual onslaught of curious le beau monde members venturing forth to meet Avery.
The first of the inquisitive ton made Pennington’s box before the ladies returned, including Cortland Marlow-Westbrook.
“Heatherston. San Sebastian.” Marlow-Westbrook dipped his chin, his keen gaze astute and alert.
“Marlow-Westbrook,” San Sebastian replied.
“I presume you wish an introduction to my niece?” Tobias leveled the man twelve years his junior with a severe glance.
Clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels, the younger man shook his head. “That’s not why I am here, though naturally, I would be well pleased to meet her. Since returning to London last week, I’ve heard much about the remarkable Miss Levingtone.”
His unexpected response took Tobias aback.
Had he misjudged the man’s interest in Avery?
“There are a slew of Grenvilles on my mother’s side,” Marlow-Westbrook offered by way of further explanation. “I’m curious to learn if Mrs. Grenville married a relative.”
Blister and blast.
After all this time, someone had taken note of Emily’s surname?
Probably because of the notoriety Avery was receiving, and Emily’s name had been linked with hers. Or, perhaps it was indeed as simple as Marlow-Westbrook’s return to England recently. The chap had toured the continent as many young bucks were wont to do.
Every muscle in Tobias stiffened in alarm. He forced himself to relax and bent his mouth into a friendly arc. “I wasn’t aware you were related to any Grenvilles, though the name is common enough.”
He prayed that was the case.
“True. Most people associate the surname with George Grenville, as he was the prime minister. My mother is descended from one of George Grenville’s paternal uncles, and she has numerous Grenville cousins. They are a prolific lot.” He chuckled and adjusted his cuff. “Rather like the Westbrooks.”
Tobias swore an extremely foul oath inside his head. This was the last thing Emily needed. It might well be enough to cause her to flee London. Even England.
Consternation etched San Sebastian’s features as his keen gaze snared with Tobias’s.
Perceptive man. He’d ascertained something was afoot.
The sounds of women laughing and chatting carried to them before Emily, Avery, the Duchess of San Sebastian, and the Dukes and Duchesses of Sutcliffe and Westfall crowded into the box.
San Sebastian took it upon himself to introduce Marlow-Westbrook to Emily and Avery.
They greeted him politely, and Avery blushed prettily when he bowed over her hand.
Tobias hadn’t been off his mark after all.
Rising from a well-executed bow, Marlow-Westbrook homed in on Emily.
Tobias encircled her elbow with his hand, giving a gentle squeeze. An urgent warning. But how could she possibly understand his silent message?
She cast him an inquisitive glance and drew her brows together.
Ah, she comprehended something was wrong. At least there was that.
“Mrs. Grenville?” Marlow-Westbrook said, drawing her attention from Tobias. “I believe we might be related. My mother was a Grenville.”
