Chapter 12
The performance was not as terrible as he’d first thought it would be, but Ambrose was more than ready for it to stop when it did.
Looking at the slender, pale length of Tilly’s neck had him wanting to stroke a finger down it to test the texture of her skin.
Then he’d wondered what it would taste like if he placed his lips there.
Ambrose had made himself look away and focused on the stage.
He’d willed his eyes to stay there until the last note had fallen silent.
He’d apologized to Tilly about what happened at Crabbett Close and said it would never happen again. She’d agreed.
So that was done with… and yet, Ambrose knew she was becoming a problem, and it had to stop. When he’d seen her walk in through those terrace doors with Howard, the stab of jealousy had been instant.
Bloody woman.
“Well now, that wasn’t so bad,” Cissa said as she joined Ambrose and Tavi where they stood after the performance.
“Baddish, but not really bad,” Tavi agreed.
“Baddish has never been a word, and I see no reason for to become one now,” he said in his most pompous and annoying elder-brother voice.
“I thought Miss Hayes was goodish,” Cissa then said to annoy him.
“I agreeish with that,” Tavi added.
“Desist,” he hissed, and his sisters giggled at his annoyance. “When is your fiancé back in London, Cissa, at least then you can annoy him instead of me?”
“Another few weeks I believe. His grandfather is extremely ill.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that, but I shall be glad of his return,” Ambrose muttered.
“Oooh, you’ll never guess who is casting adoring looks your way, Ambrose,” Violet said.
“I don’t care.”
“Lady Alice. She’s been doing so all evening.”
“I like her. In fact, she’d be a perfect sister-in-law,” Cissa said.
“Have either of you chatted with Mr. Howard?” Violet asked, arriving with Charles. The latter stood a little back, while Ambrose’s youngest sister wedged herself into the middle of the group.
“I’ve danced with the man. He’s a little boring, but pleasant enough,” Cissa said. “Why?”
“I think he’s showing an interest in Tilly.”
“He smiled at her. That is hardly showing interest,” Ambrose protested not mentioning the fact he’d seen Tilly enter the ballroom with Howard from the balcony.
“Why are you testy?” Violet demanded, shooting him a questioning look.
“I’m not testy, but just because you are wed to this idiot—”
“Harsh but true,” Charles agreed amicably.
“—does not mean Tilly wants to do the same,” Ambrose finished, though he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Of course she does. My friend may be fiercely independent, but she has no siblings, and told me once that she envied what we had, even if we have an annoying, sanctimonious elder brother,” Violet said. “So back to my question. Do either of you know anything about Mr. Howard?”
“No,” he and Charles said before Cissa or Tavi could speak.
“He’s just there, as most are at society events,” Ambrose added.
Could Tilly be interested in the man? He didn’t like that thought or the thought that he didn’t like it, which made no sense, but then not much did lately.
“The dancing has begun.”
“I thought this was a musicale,” Charles said.
“Sometimes there is dancing too,” Violet said. “Come along.”
Ambrose watched them move onto the floor with the other dancers, and while doing so, he intercepted the coy, flirtatious smile from Lady Alice. Why not, he thought, heading her way. He needed a distraction.
“A waltz, how lovely,” she said as he led her to the floor, and they started dancing.
Ambrose looked around, and though he told himself he wasn’t looking for Tilly, he found her approaching on the arm of Mr. Howard.
“I’m so sorry, my lord.”
“For what, Lady Alice? I did not feel you stand on my toes.” He was good at social conversations, and, of course, flirting was something he was an expert at.
She trilled out a laugh. “No, and it is a delicate matter, my lord.”
“Speak plainly, Lady Alice,” he said, wondering what she could have to say to him that was a delicate matter.
“Miss Wilson and her club next to your gentleman’s one. I understand, of course, that she is your sister’s friend, but also how embarrassing this is for you and your family—”
“As you know nothing about my family or how we feel about The Iris Club, I don’t think you have any place commenting on the matter,” he said, tamping down the anger that had fired to life inside him.
He’d clearly shocked her, because her eyes shot to his. The look in them could only be described as panic. But she carried on. “She has never fitted in society, my lord, and I was merely pointing out—”
“I think it would be best if you kept your opinions to yourself, Lady Alice.”
What followed was one of the most awkward dances of his life. His relief when the music halted was profound.
“Thank you for the dance. I shall return you to your mother,” he said, his tone clipped.
“If I have offended you in any way, please excuse me, Lord Talbot.” Lady Alice’s words were a little desperate now. “I was simply telling you that your standing, and that of your family’s, even considering who your sister married, is—”
“Lady Alice, I suggest you do not speak again, as so far you have insulted Miss Wilson, who is a family friend, and now my sister and brother-in-law,” Ambrose said. He then left her with her mother and walked away.
He’d known, of course, that Tilly was not popular, but he hadn’t understood that she in fact may have been on the receiving end of such insults from people like Lady Alice.
He’d been accepted due to his parents and title, as had his sisters, but who had Tilly’s back?
Her parents, yes, but they were most often off playing cards or spending time with their friends.
It shamed him that he’d never really given her plight much thought.
Ambrose shot a final look at the dance floor and saw Tilly was now standing beside it, talking to Howard and smiling.
He walked away and kept walking until he reached the refreshment table.
Howard was no good for Tilly. She needed a strong man.
Someone she could not control. He picked up a patty from the platter before him, bit into it, and immediately shuddered. He loathed crab.
“Problem?”
“Good evening, Leo. Where is your long-suffering wife?”
“Speaking with Mrs. Alderberry and her sister, Miss Lang,” he said. “They are discussing fashion, and I had no wish to join the conversation, which I’m sure you’ll understand.”
Ambrose shuddered. Fashion was something constantly discussed in his father’s household.
“Is that crab or beef?” Leo asked him.
“Crab.”
“Wonderful.” He then swallowed a patty in two bites.
Ambrose chose a small sandwich.
“Now that could be a good match,” Leo said.
Following his gaze, Ambrose noted Tilly standing with Mr. Howard.
“He would be a good, steady husband for her,” the man continued when Ambrose remained silent.
“I don’t know anything about him. Howard and I are not friends,” Ambrose said, hoping to put an end to the conversation. Leo and the others had seen Howard and Tilly talking this one night, and suddenly they were the perfect match?
“Nice enough fellow, if a little boring at times. But well educated. Comes from a good family,” Leo added.
“The decision will be Tilly’s,” Ambrose said with a calm he was far from feeling.
The thought of Tilly married made him want to punch someone.
She laughed at something Howard said. A real laugh, not a society titter. Howard was smiling back at her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Leo demanded. “Crab patty not sitting well?”
“Yes, excuse me, will you, Leo?” Ambrose left the gathering after telling his family he was departing.
Stepping outside the front door minutes later, he stomped off down the street.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so unsettled by the fact that Tilly may be forming something with Mr. Howard? She had to marry, so why not him?
Because you want her for yourself. The words seemed to echo in his head. Yet he couldn’t have her if he did not marry her, and the thought of that had him shuddering.
Ambrose wanted an easy wife, not one who would talk at him constantly and take him to task if he dared to question her.
He walked and walked and tried to make sense of the craziness inside his head.
He had enough business interests to keep his mind occupied, and then there was his family.
His mother was constantly having him check up on his two unwed sisters.
What with social engagements and his involvement in the Pavlov fortune, what else could he need?
Tilly slid into his head, and he shut that door quickly once more. He could not have her, so he needed to make himself understand that. The attraction would wane. It always did, he reminded himself.
Looking around him for a distraction, Ambrose realized he was entering the street his club and The Iris was on. Deciding to check on the door below the stairs yet again, he made his way down into the dark space.
Letting his eyes adjust, Ambrose instantly saw that someone had been there, because they had moved the obstructions blocking the entrance. Running his hand over the lock, he felt the grooves where something had struck at the lock. Leaning closer, he saw there were fresh marks in the iron’s black.
If he’d needed confirmation that whatever was going on in there was still taking place, he had just received it. He had truly begun to believe that it was no longer in use, but this changed everything.
He must tell Tilly because there could be danger for her and those who entered her club. That secret entrance needed to be boarded shut.
A sound to his left had him turning in time to see a man approaching fast. Ambrose saw the long length of wood he held, and ducked as he swung it at his head.
It brushed the side of his face and then bounced off his shoulder.
Grunting as it forced him back into the door, he didn’t go down, but when he straightened, the man was fleeing.