Page 47 of Rakes & Reticules
Fletcher’s unease grew with each passing day.
He didn’t doubt they were behind the machinations to run him out of business or that they’d hired Prescott to do their dirty work. Flexing his jaw as he strode across the sanded floor, he mulled over the possibilities that kept the Huxleys at bay.
Had Lady Huxley deduced he only pretended interest in her to glean information?
After hers and Fletcher’stete-e-tetethe other night, had Huxley questioned her?
As taken as the viscount seemed with Siobhan, his continued absence might well portend a significant problem. In truth, a part of Fletcher felt nothing but relief that she wasn’t subjected to the libertine’s company. He never should have involved her in the scheme to catch Huxley, and now that he had, he seriously considered calling it off and figuring out a different way to catch the wily blackguard.
Fanning herself as she spoke to the matron seated beside her, Siobhan glanced upward at Fletcher’s approach and gifted him such a radiant smile that he momentarily forgot why he wanted to speak with her.
Lord, she was a vision, but her loveliness didn’t solely cause the warmth spreading through his ribs and tunneling into his heart. However, now wasn’t the time to examine the growing sentiment. Later, when Huxley was dealt with, Fletcher would allow himself that luxury.
For now, he’d cherish Siobhan’s geniality.
Seldom did she welcome him with such earnestness.
“Might I have a word with you, Mrs. McKinney?”
“Of course, Mr. Westbrook.” She turned toward the elderly woman attired in a vibrant maroon and silver gown she’d been chatting with. An out of fashion mouche on the dame’s papery cheek quivered with her movements like a fly in the throes of death.
“Mrs. Partridge, I have enjoyed our conversation. I do hope your little Miss Mousetail is feeling better soon.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Mrs. Patridge patted Siobhan’s hand. “You’ve been kind to an old woman.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Partridge.” Fletcher swept into a bow before kissing her knobby knuckles. “As beautiful as ever.”
“Flim flam, young rascal. Your compliments are wasted on me.” She turned her watery gaze toward Siobhan. “Save them for this young lady. She’s a breath of fresh air in an August afternoon fish market.”
Fletcher laughed at the apt comparison. “She is indeed.”
Taking care to remember hersoreankle ruse, Fletcher extended a hand to Siobhan to help her stand and once she was upright, looped her hand through the crook of his elbow so she could lean upon him.
It didn’t bother him in the least to have her nearby. In truth, he quite relished the closeness.
As he guided her toward a private corner, he permitted himself the indulgence of enjoying her subtle perfume with a hint of peony, if he wasn’t mistaken, and the way her raven hair shone under the illumination of dozens of beeswax candles in the crystal chandeliers overhead.
He leaned down. “Who, might I ask, is Mousetail?”
“Her cat. She’s been ill, and Mrs. Partridge is quite frantic about her health. Lonely too, I think.” Siobhan glanced upward through that sweep of sooty lashes. “What is it you need to speak with me about?”
Stopping near a potted fern and turning his back to the assembly, Fletcher glanced around to ensure their privacy. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted eavesdropped upon.
“The Huxleys arrived a few minutes ago, Siobhan.”
“Oh.” She darted a swift glance past his shoulders.
“Chandler informed me at once,” Fletcher said. “I haven’t seen them in the ballroom, and Huxley might choose to spend the night in the card room as is his preference, but I wanted to make you aware. Continue your ruse of a sprained ankle to dissuade Lord Huxley from trying to get you alone should he venture here. I intend to find Lady Huxley promptly, so if you don’t see me for a time, do not become alarmed.”
She gave a little nod, but he didn’t miss the flicker of unease flashing across her features.
“I hope you get the information you need soon, Fletcher. I’m not comfortable with this charade or with Lord Huxley. He gives me the shivers.”
As well he ought.
“I know. Neither am I.” Fletcher shifted a few inches closer. “I’ve made sure you shan’t be alone. At least one of my men will be near you at all times. Just don’t leave the ballroom.”
“I shan’t.” She tightened her grip on his arm as she peered up at him. Genuine concern deepened her eyes to navy blue, and it was all he could do not to draw her into his arms and assure her that all would be well.
