CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Mr Laing,” I said, automatically falling back on the rules of polite conversation. “We met at the Wellerbys’, didn’t we? How nice to see you again.” I hoped I wasn’t showing any of the nerves I felt.
Laing smiled at me, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Come now, Lady Felicity,” he said, dropping gracefully into the seat beside me. “I think it’s time to do away with pretence, as fun as it has been. I believe you know me to be no slow top, just as I know the brilliance of your own mind. Mrs Williams .”
My heart lurched when his smile only widened. The smile of a cat, toying with a mouse, perhaps. I knew I’d been foolish, hoping a scrap of gold lace would conceal my identity, but I wasn’t sure what game we were playing now. However polite Laing may appear, however innocuous our surroundings, Izzy was certain the man was dangerous.
I sat in silence for a moment, considering the best course of action. As far as I was aware, he knew nothing of the Aviary or my connection to them, only that I’d infiltrated the gambling den under a false name. Laing seemed not to mind the quiet; if anything the look he gave me was approving, as if he could see that I was weighing and measuring all the likely outcomes. He brushed an invisible mark from his immaculate suit and waited patiently.
“It seems there’s little point in dissembling,” I said finally. “Though sneaking out to play draw poker can hardly be considered an acceptable activity for a young lady. I hope I can count on your discretion, Mr Laing?”
His smile returned, and again it felt as though my answer pleased him. “Oh, you have nothing to worry about there,” he assured me. “I know how to keep a secret. It seems a crime to keep a mind like yours caged up only because of society’s silly rules.”
“It can be … difficult,” I agreed cautiously.
“I can imagine how tedious this sort of business must be for you.” He scanned the crowd milling in front of us, and I caught disdain in his tone. “Not a soul here on your intellectual level, and yet they treat you like some fragile bloom to be admired only for her looks.”
“I— Yes,” I said, startled.
“Please don’t mistake me,” he said, his expression mischievous. “You’re a lovely young woman, Lady Felicity, but, of course, I know that you’re so much more than a beautiful face.”
I was suddenly aware of how close he was, the two of us sitting on this small sofa. There was real understanding in his voice. I wondered again if Izzy had made a mistake. Could this sympathetic man really be the ruthless villain she took him for?
“You’re too kind,” I murmured, trying to cover my confusion.
“Oh, no.” He moved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “No need for that bland politeness, I beg you! I’d much rather talk about the poker game.” His tone was boyish, eager, his enthusiasm infectious. “Tell me, have you been playing for long?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Not terribly long,” I said, “but I must admit I found it fascinating.”
Though his posture remained casual, something came into his eyes then, as if he were anticipating what was to come next.
“And you seemed to be acquainted with the owner of the gambling establishment we were in…” He let the statement linger like a question.
“Oh, him,” I said mechanically, again wishing I was better at this game of deception. “Not really. We met the night I played vingt-et-un. He accused me of cheating, if you can believe it.” I let indignation bleed into my words. If in doubt, I thought, a version of the truth was probably the best bet.
“Unfortunately, I can believe it.” Laing nodded. “He’s amiable enough, but a man of limited imagination. However, he seemed quite taken with you.”
“I believe he has a reputation as a flirt,” I said, as coolly as I could manage.
“I think you do yourself a disservice, Lady Felicity.” Laing still carried that strange intensity. “It’s likely a man like Ash would be susceptible to your particular … charms.”
I really didn’t know how to respond to that.
He smiled at me then, changing the subject. “I suppose you were keeping a count of the cards when you played vingt-et-un?”
After a moment of hesitation, I nodded.
“It was a pleasure to watch you play with such skill. Your gift of concentration is a powerful thing.”
“I suppose it’s important to focus if one wants to win,” I replied. “And you, Mr Laing? Have you been playing draw poker long? You’re an accomplished player yourself.”
“Thank you.” He chuckled, pleased. “I’ll admit that I’ve been considered something of expert in the game for a while now. It was quite a thrill for me, to finally come up against a worthy opponent.”
“You took your loss well,” I said, aiming for a playful note.
“You believe I lost?” His words were soft. “Sitting here with you, Lady Felicity, I assure you, I feel like the true winner of our game.”
I opened my mouth – to say what, I wasn’t sure – but he cut me off.
“I can only assume from your presence here that you’re being launched into society.” His eyes cut to my mother, who was trying to spy on us inconspicuously by standing behind a stout gentleman and darting looks around his shoulders. “Time for you to have a season. In other words, your family are trying to find you a husband.”
“That’s very forthright of you, Mr Laing,” I managed, attempting to keep up with this turn in the conversation.
“Forgive me, I felt that you’d prefer to speak plainly. It’s a difficult situation for a young woman of your quality to be in.” His voice was gentle, once again full of understanding.
“If we’re to speak plainly,” I said, nettled, “then I should tell you I have absolutely no intention of taking a husband.”
If I had expected to surprise him, I was to be disappointed.
“I understand perfectly.” He nodded, as if what I said was extremely sensible. “Though I hope I’ll be able to change your mind.”
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
Whatever he might have said in response to this was cut off by my mother’s approach.
“Felicity,” she said brightly. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?”
Laing got to his feet at once and bowed over my mother’s hand, his charming smile slipping into place.
“Edward Laing, Lady Vane. I’m delighted to meet you.” He straightened. “I hope you won’t mind me commandeering your lovely daughter’s attention. I’ll readily admit that I’ve been fascinated by her from our first meeting.” Here he shot me a look, as though we were both in on some joke, as I sat, still reeling from his previous words. Had Edward Laing implied that he wished to … marry me ?
“Oh?” Mother couldn’t conceal her delight at Laing’s obvious flirtation. “And where might that have been?”
“At the Wynters’ wedding reception some months ago,” Laing lied smoothly. I was certain he hadn’t been at the wedding at all.
“Ah, yes.” Mother nodded. “I’ve been out of town for some time, so I missed the wedding, though I heard the ceremony was delightful.”
“It certainly was,” Laing said. “So delightful, in fact, that I’m sure it turned more than one bachelor’s mind in the direction of matrimony.”
“I’m certain you must be right, Mr Laing,” Mother said, pleasure in her eyes. She was more than happy to follow the trail of breadcrumbs Laing left for her – and who could blame her? He was hardly being subtle. “But tell me: how are you acquainted with our host?”
“Ah, Lady Endsleigh,” Laing said, with a nod in the direction of the lady herself, magnificently clad in a puce gown with matching turban. “An old family friend. I was at school with her son.”
The answer clearly pleased Mother, though I was certain she’d have already asked someone about Laing before making her way over to us. When it came to prospective husbands, she was nothing if not thorough. I could see her taking note of his beautifully tailored suit, his perfectly polished shoes, his relaxed posture. Everything about him screamed that he belonged here.
And yet I knew from Izzy that Edward Laing was simply an alias, a man with no history at all. How was it possible that Laing had school friends? Was it, as Izzy had suggested, that he had bribed or blackmailed people to lie for him? Too much was happening and all under the guise of horribly polite conversation. My head was reeling.
“Oh, yes, Lady Endsleigh’s son is a charming boy,” Mother said, then gave a small laugh, “although I’m showing my age by calling him so. He must be five and twenty by now.”
“But how could anyone accuse you of showing your age, Lady Vane, when one could take you and Lady Felicity for sisters?”
Laing was laying the compliments on thick now, though Mother continued to beam at him. Once again he glanced at me, and there was a look in his eyes, a look that said we were sharing a joke, that we were in on something together, and I didn’t know how that had happened. I didn’t want to share looks with him, or private jokes. I stood abruptly.
“I feel unwell,” I said, the words coming out too loud.
Mother looked startled, as well she might. It was hardly a graceful moment.
“I think we’d better return home,” I continued in a softer voice. I kept my eyes on my mother, careful to avoid looking at Laing.
“Well, of course,” Mother said, instantly at my side, holding my arm. “My daughter is somewhat delicate,” she said to Laing in apology.
“I’ll have someone call your carriage round at once. I do hope you feel better soon, Lady Felicity,” Laing said, all sympathy. He took my free hand in his, bowing elegantly over it, and brushing his lips against my knuckles. His fingers squeezed mine, the pressure a touch too hard.
I felt nothing but a chill sense of dread at the contact.
As we took leave of our hostess and made our way through the crowds, I knew without looking that his eyes were following me, cool and possessive.
This, I thought, was a serious complication.