He grinned and hugged her back. “I’m your only brother.”
“Precisely. There is no one else for me to pester and hug.”
“Judith.”
Eloise released him. “Have you tried to hug Judith lately? She’s all prickly moods and scratchy lace. Besides, she will probably be married by the end of the season. And there will never be another Timothy. You are a brilliant, delightful young man, and I want to see you grown and with a girl you cannot stop thinking about.”
“See? Even you think I’m a man.”
“Youngman.” She pinched the back of his arm and he yelped. “You want to be treated like an adult, you need to act like one. And grown men do not sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. They go to proper places, they learn from their fathers, and they seek out gentlemen like themselves.”
“You just don’t want my first girl to be a”—the look on her face stopped him—“a doxy.”
“If this is what they teach you at Eton, I’m going to have a talk with Papa.”
Timothy’s grin was mischievously crooked. “I’m learning a lot of things at Eton.”
“I have no doubt.” She paused. “Please promise me. If not for Mama and Papa, then for me.”
He released a long sigh. “I promise.”
“You promise you will not go out tonight after we are all in bed.”
“Yes, I promise. And I will blame it all on you when I tell my friends I cannot go.”
“Do so. I can take the humiliation.”
Timothy hopped off the bed, kissed her cheek, and left her bedchamber, closing the door.
After a moment of silence, Eloise looked at Delie. “Did you believe him?”
“Not a word.”
“Me neither. Now the question is, do I tell Papa?”
“I would.”
“I agree.” She stood. “Are you ready for later?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. Meet me back here at half-past seven. We will use the servant’s entrance.” Eloise smoothed the skirt on her muslin day gown, which she’d changed back into after dinner. “Papa should still be in his study. I’ll see if he’s awake or has dozed over the port. It is going to be an interesting night.”
Chapter Three
Saturday, 16 July 1825
Makendon Manor, Mayfair
8:30 in the evening
Robert blinked, unsurehe had heard Lydia correctly. Of course, he had so often lost track of her relentless chatter over the past five hours that he was surprised he had heard any of her words at all. “You wish for me to do what?”
“Retrieve my gown from the modiste’s shop.” She clutched his arm a bit tighter, her gloved hand curling over his. They sat together on a settee in the Rowbothams’ drawing room, surrounded by her family and a discreet distance apart until she had stated her request. “It would be just a quick errand and would mean so much to me. I’m dreadfully nervous after what happened at the fitting today, and I want to make sure it is safe here and not lingering in that workroom overnight.”
Robert scoured his memory to see if she had told him what had happened at the modiste’s today, but he couldn’t find a glimmer—ah, there it was. Something about a clumsy seamstress and too many pins for a final fitting. Still...
“It’s half-past eight.”
