Chapter 22
Atlas
Mary Anne was not supposed to be here. My aunt must have chosen to forget how much she disliked the woman in favor of inviting guests she assumed would make my return to Society more comfortable. I would have to set her straight later.
There was no formal seating arrangement, so I led Mary Anne to an open chair beside Barry. I pulled her chair out, and once she sat, pushed it in for her.
“Thank you, Lord Camden.”
I nodded, but instead of slipping into the chair beside her, as was custom when escorting a woman into dinner, I maneuvered myself down past Barry and claimed the open seat on the other side of Miss Lewis.
It was a tactical movement with a dual purpose.
As much as I dared not risk my patience by sitting beside Mary Anne, I dared not leave Miss Lewis to fend for herself against Barry’s suave flirtations.
It had not taken many interactions with the woman for me to realize her naivete—and her dress and appearance made her more eye-catching than the usual lady’s companion.
“I hope you don’t mind if I take this seat,” I said to her.
“Haven’t you already taken it?” Miss Lewis asked. She did not meet my gaze but kept her head ducked. I thought we had made progress in our friendship, but perhaps I was wrong.
Mary Anne made the smallest noise of frustration when she discovered I did not plan on returning to her side, but I ignored her. I would not sit by her or speak to her if I could avoid it. She needed to know there were no lingering feelings on my part and not to hope for it.
In fact, I had only felt annoyance and dread when I had seen her in the drawing room. Certainly, she was still as beautiful as ever, but her looks were no gift to her. They had tainted her person. It relieved me to know, without a doubt, that there were no remaining threads tying my heart to hers.
The other side of the table filled up with guests—my mother taking a seat at the opposite end—while I happened to sit across from Augusta and Abramson. Augusta grinned at a witty remark Abramson made.
“Augusta seems to have found a pleasant seatmate, even if you have not,” I teased with a whisper.
Again, no response from Miss Lewis. I let it go and watched Augusta for another moment.
It was a small comfort to see my sister enjoying herself in company, even if I could not recommend Abramson to her.
I could not recommend any of my friends.
How could I trust them when I had yet to discover who was responsible for my attack?
Barry had been in love with Mary Anne as long as I had, and although I had claimed him as my best friend all those months ago, had he been eager to kill me off so he might have Mary Anne for himself?
Would she have hired men to kill me so she could comfortably pursue Barry?
Either way, she and Barry could have each other.
Though Barry would not thank me for stepping aside.
He had still not forgiven me for ending our friendship and did not believe I was through with the gambling hells, the excessive drinking, or pining after Mary Anne.
Indeed, he took my refusal to participate in the activities he loved personally, and the few times we had met, his scorn and offense had only deepened.
It seemed Abramson had been more merciful toward my absence amongst their circles. We had never been as close as Barry and me, but I questioned all my previous associates. Did Abramson harbor hateful feelings behind his smile? Did he try to kill me?
Lord and Lady Timbrell found their seats at the heads of the table, but a young man about my age with his mother on his arm—neither of which I recognized—hesitated when they saw the seats available.
One was beside me and the only other open chair was beside Mary Anne.
My choice of seat prevented them from sitting together.
A twinge of guilt tightened my already frayed nerves.
My lack of sleep did not help, but I had to endure a little longer before that could be remedied.
The older woman accepted the seat beside me, near Lady Timbrell at the bottom of the table.
Lady Timbrell made the introduction for us. “Mrs. Goodwin, do you know my nephew, Lord Camden?”
“No, I have not had the pleasure.”
I turned to smile at Mrs. Goodwin, taking in her pleasant smile. She was aged somewhere between Lady Timbrell and my mother, with streaks of gray in her dark hair. I dipped my head. “How do you do?”
“Very well. My son, Mr. Peter Goodwin, who is seated at the other end of the table is taking me to America. We are visiting some of our friends before we make our move across the world.”
“It sounds like an adventure.”
“Indeed, we hope so.”
Beside me, I heard Barry lean over and ask Miss Lewis where she was from.
“Er—Northumberland.”
Why did Miss Lewis hesitate to tell Barry where her family hailed from? I knew she had worked in Warwick last, but for some reason I had thought she had said she’d hailed from Derbyshire during her interview. Had I been mistaken?
I opened my mouth to respond to Mrs. Goodwin before I appeared rude, but I was saved by a footman who passed between us to place a tray of rolls on the table for us to eat with our first course of soup.
“Northumberland is farther north than I usually travel to,” Barry said. “I should arrange a visit. What remarkable places should I see first?”
“I . . . I could not say,” Miss Lewis said. She seemed distracted, her head slightly bent toward me and away from Barry. Had Barry offended her earlier? Regardless of what was bothering her, I could not sit idly by and watch. As Augusta’s companion, her comfort was my responsibility.
“You cannot recommend anything about your home?” Barry asked.
I leaned close to Miss Lewis and answered Barry for her. “The many old castles there are remarkable. Wouldn’t you agree?” I glanced over at Miss Lewis, who was far closer than I realized. The emerald green of her dress complimented her ivory skin and raven hair perfectly.
Her breathing seemed to accelerate. Or was it my own?
“Yes. The castles. They are beautiful,” she said.
Barry glared at me and shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
I reached over and selected a roll and placed it on Miss Lewis’s plate. In a lowered voice, I whispered to her, “Lady Timbrell always serves an excellent faire. I hope you enjoy it.”
Her spoon lay untouched beside her soup, but at my prompting, she reached for it.
I watched until she placed the food in her mouth, in case she changed her mind about eating.
It was then I realized that perhaps it was not just one person who upset her, but the dinner in general.
Did the party remind her of what she had lost when her family had fallen into hard times?
Miss Lewis broke a piece off her roll but did not eat it or take a second bite of soup. When Barry began a conversation with Mary Anne—probably to disparage me—I tipped my head to Miss Lewis again. “Are you unwell?”
She glanced up at me and shook her head. “I am well enough.”
I could not tell if she was being earnest or putting on a brave front. “Would you like to return to Rosemont Court?”
She shook her head more furtively. “I would never cut short Augusta’s night, and I imagine she will insist on accompanying me back.”
“You are probably right. She is rather attached to you.” I glanced across the table to catch Augusta watching us with a knowing grin on her face. “Why is she looking at us that way?”
A small laugh bubbled out of Miss Lewis. “I have one guess, and you do not want to hear it.”
Was Augusta scheming to get Miss Lewis and me together?
This was a thought to ponder later, but not here at the table.
“No, I think you’re right. The less I know about what my sister is thinking about, the safer I am.
” I examined Miss Lewis once more, who had shifted her body away from Barry.
She did not appear ill, and her laugh was proof that she could be distracted from her mood, but there was something clearly bothering her.
Once more I lowered my voice and tipped my head toward hers.
“I owe you my thanks for your brave words earlier. I am sorry if the company tonight upsets you.”
She pushed aside the roll that was now in several pieces. “It is kind of you to be concerned for me when you have reason to be upset as well.”
Whispering like this would not go over well with Mother, or the rumors Barry was likely to spread about me and Miss Lewis, but I didn’t particularly care at the moment. “Not all friendships are meant to last. Sometimes they impede your progress and must fall by the wayside.”
“Those couldn’t have been true friends.”
I glanced at her sincere brown eyes, now as concerned for me as I had been for her.
“I don’t suppose they were.” I wondered what she would think if she knew what kind of gentleman I had been six months ago.
Part of me wished she would never know. It was nice having someone in my life who knew the new me.
Because, at times, it felt like no one in the world did.
I blinked away my self-disparaging thoughts. Miss Lewis needed a distraction, and I would be the one to provide it.
The second course was placed on the table, giving me an idea. I turned to our host, and as soon as she was between conversations with Mrs. Goodwin, I caught her attention. “Lady Timbrell, might I ask what entertainment you have planned for the night?”
“Music, of course,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You know how I adore it.”
Indeed, I had predicted as much.
“Splendid.” I waited a moment for conversation to resume and leaned back toward Miss Lewis. “With all your musical talents, do you sing, Miss Lewis?”
“I can sing, but I prefer an instrument.”
“I, myself, do not sing well. But I will make you a wager. Whoever eats the least tonight must perform a solo for Lady Timbrell.”
Miss Lewis raised an unamused brow. “That is an unfair wager. Even if a man does not generally eat more than a lady, he has the advantage of not wearing a corset.” She had practically mouthed the last word, and her cheeks colored when she had finished.
“Ah, I have heard about tight-lacing to achieve those remarkably small waistlines above those ridiculous petticoats. I think the practice inhumane, particularly if it prevents one from overindulging on the delicious fare before us. Please do not tell me that I must be disappointed in my competition.”
She gave me a dry look. “If your motivation is to get me to eat something, I will humor you. But if it is to be a wager and a bit of sport, perhaps you might think of something more challenging.”
“More challenging?” I raised a brow.
“I expected something more exciting after proving myself in the stables. You do have imagination, do you not?” She looked at me as if she did not believe I was capable of a creative thought.
But I played pretend as a child just as everyone else, and I had read my share of fiction novels . . . two or three of them at least.
I dished some buttered potatoes and scallops onto her plate. While I thought of some genius idea that might impress her, she could hold up her end of the bargain and eat something.
After she speared a potato and placed it into her mouth, I relaxed back into my seat.
“Miss Lewis.” Barry’s oily voice, which had wooed more ladies than I could count, felt slimy on my ears.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I would be remiss if we finished dinner before I told you how charming that gown of yours is.”
I looked over her plate in time to see Barry’s eyes drift to her bodice. My teeth ground together.
“Thank you.” Miss Lewis lifted her glass and held it there, almost as if she was blocking her face from Barry’s view.
I did not blame her. At least it sent a signal to Barry, since I saw him turn once again to Mary Anne.
But I knew Barry, and he was the last man on earth I would trust. He would turn his sights on Miss Lewis when given the chance.
If not to anger me, then because he could not resist a pretty face.
I had to do something to prevent his attention from returning.
Shifting subtly, I leaned toward Miss Lewis, feigning an air of casual ease. My hand lifted to scratch beneath my nose, but in truth, it served as a discreet shield for my words. “I have an idea for the challenge. And this time, no excuses about unfairness or poking fun at my creativity.”
Miss Lewis coughed, but I was certain it was to cover a laugh.
“Very well.” She took a sip of her glass. “Let’s hear it.”
“We must pretend to be smitten with each other for the rest of the night.”
She had just taken a second sip and choked. She quickly took a third, and fortunately, the chatter at the table covered the moment it took to recover.
Her head swung my way. “Weren’t we just trying to convince your friends that you weren’t avoiding them because of me?”
“That’s why it will be so entertaining.” I did not mention that I also hoped Barry would back off as a result.
“And if I fail?”
My lips pulled up at the corner. “A solo.”
She searched my face for clues I was not ready to give. “You must really want to hear me sing.”
I’d heard enough singing in my dreams that I might as well hear a different tune. Why not one from Miss Lewis? She had claimed to be musical. I cleared my throat. “So, you think you will lose the wager?”
Her lips curled into a smile. “I never said anything about losing.” She tilted her head, and the candlelight played across her dark curls. “There is one thing you should know about me, Lord Camden. Regardless of the challenge, I will always rise to the occasion.”
I had seen that stubborn glint in her eyes before, but I had not expected to see it applied to my outlandish idea. I sensed the night was about to get very interesting.
And the anticipation did wonders for my mood.