“Yes.”
“You realize you cannot marry her and still be Robbie Green. It would be too scandalous.”
Madame Adrienne made a guttural noise, and Lady Eloise reached out and closed her hand on the modiste’s arm.
“Families such as theirs have survived worse scandals. Especially when a great deal of money is involved.”
She continued to study him, then took a deep breath. “My brother. He’s at Eton. He’s running with some boys who have dangerous ideas of what it means to have fun. Lydia’s younger brother is also at Eton. They agreed that Gilbert would look out for Timothy. In turn, I will escort Lydia so that her mother will not have to.”
“Tit for tat.”
“That is the way Lydia works. And her family. They do nothing without reciprocation. According to my father, they do not do favors. They do transactions. So before you sign that marriage contract, sir, you may want to ask yourself one question.”
Robert nodded, a deep sense of annoyance consuming his gut. “What do they want from me?”
*
“I cannot believethat dandy is Robbie Green.” Adrienne’s French accent disappeared with the closing of the door.
Eloise glanced at her friend, a wry grin on her face. “He is a man of many faces, apparently. You, obviously, are familiar with that concept.”
“Ha! I have only two. French modiste and gentlewoman from Kent. You have said he was exceptionally handsome but a bit of a buffoon.”
“More like the ultimate charming fop without two thoughts to string together. I have watched him court Lady Lydia for several weeks. He lets her chatter endlessly with nothing more than a beatific grin. But I know Lady Rose, who speaks highly of her new brother-in-law. I had a hard time believing she would be so fond of a man so shallow. Now we know.”
Adrienne raised one eyebrow.
“He is an actor, playing many roles. Robbie Green. The charming rogue in Society. Lydia’s foppish lackey.”
“So who is the real man?”
Eloise stared at the door, remembering the way Lord Robert’s face had altered when he realized it had been Adrienne’s seamstresses he had helped. The way his expression had hardened when she had asked what the Makendon family wanted from him. He had known immediately—she could see it in his eyes—but he had tucked that knowledge away, probably until he could figure out what to do next. “If a man is a buffoon, he is always a buffoon. He does not have the wherewithal to be otherwise. But if a man is someone like Robbie Green...”
“He can be anyone he chooses.”
“Indeed.” Eloise idly ran her fingers down the strand of hair that had pulled loose from her chignon. She had realized it had fallen and had almost tucked it back up when she’d seen Lord Robert’s eyes widen as he followed the length of it down past her shoulder. His pupils had dilated, his gaze lingering on the curl resting atop her breast, and Eloise had felt odd about reaching for it at that point, calling attention to it. Odd... and inexplicably warm. She had felt a draw to the man since his first call on Lydia but had set it aside as a useless distraction.
“Oh, yes,” Adrienne muttered. “Do we want to talk about that curl?”
Eloise dropped her hand away. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Liar. Did you do that on purpose?”
Heat flared in Eloise’s cheeks and she glared at her friend. “Of course I did not! It came loose when I put the pencil behind my ear.” Eloise jerked the pencil free, managing to tug loose even more locks of her hair.
Adrienne laughed. “Now you look completely wanton. We should call him back inside.”
Eloise growled in frustration and gestured at the ledgers. “May we finish? I told Papa we’d be home by midnight, and I’m sure Delie is losing patience.”
“Ha! Miss Delie is still sound asleep on the settee in the fitting room. And your Papa would forgive you almost anything, much less being a half-hour overdue. But, yes, let’s get this finished, so that we can partake of the sherry I’ve held back for tonight.” She paused, looking at the door a moment. “Although”—she drawled the word—“he is a handsome gent, even if he’s a complete scoundrel.”
Eloise sniffed. “Complete scoundrels are usually quite handsome. This is why we insist on having chaperones for unmarried ladies.”
“Well, if you cross paths again with Lord Robert, perhaps you can convince Delie to take another nap.” As Eloise glared, Adrienne snickered. “By the way, that was a lovely tale you spun about why we became friends. How long do you think it’ll take him to realize it was a complete fabrication?”
“Probably by the time he gets back to Lydia with that dress. Did you really want me to tell him that you’d won the shop in a card game and had to teach yourself to sew in order to save it from closing? Or that we’d met because one of your girls tried to cut the bottom of my reticule?”
“Heisa gambler.”
