“Thomas,” Isabel scolded him. “You were ten minutes late; it’s best we enjoyed our supper when it’s hot. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Up came the practiced smile and silvery glint in his eye. “Yes, of course, Isabel. You’re always right.”
Sebastian held back a huff of annoyance. Lingering behind, he watched as Thomas walked straight with his head tall, the practiced confident manner of a gentleman. And something else. When he turned his head, Sebastian could tell he was up to something. The expression was too clear, too calculating.
“What a fine house this is. I don’t believe I’ve been to this dining room yet,” their guest remarked. “Isabel, you must have decorated this immediately upon your arrival. You have such a good eye for color.”
“I was always interested in decorating,” Isabel agreed before shaking her head. “However, there wasn’t much to touch here. All I did was brighten up the place.”
“With your smile?”
“Now you’re being obnoxious,” she said with a short laugh. “We updated a few curtains, and rearranged some paintings. The dining room in particular here was already beautiful. Have you seen anything like this furniture before? Hand-crafted from Belgium.”
Thomas’s eyes widened comically though no one laughed. “How remarkable! Do tell me more.”
Everyone took their seats. As the first course was brought out, a steaming pea soup, Isabel chattered on about the room. Sebastian listened in amazement to find how passionate she was about the setup of this room. While he’d noticed the small changes prior, he hadn’t imagined the intention behind every little thing.
He sipped quietly at his soup and shot a glance at Thomas who nodded along with small noncommittal responses along the while.
So he heard, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Rather, the brother picked up his spoon and was studying the silverware as though to ensure it all matched. To test it for being real silver. His gaze browsed the room slowly, frequently stalling on more historic and expensive items like the large clock and the candlesticks and a French painting.
Thomas’s gaze slowly shifted around the room with the hungry look of a hawk until he looked at Sebastian.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
At once the man turned away. “Isabel, how fascinating to learn all of this about you. I always knew you loved your art. Does anyone let you still paint?”
Let her?
Before Sebastian could call him out on the rude phrasing, Isabel was nodding in response. “Of course I still paint. I’m fortunate to have a room here all to myself to enjoy my artwork. It’s a lovely corner of the house with large windows to see out across the estate. Seeing the sun rise and set there is just beautiful.”
“Good, you deserve everything beautiful,” Thomas reassured her with practiced ease. He settled back in his chair to pick at nonexistent dust on his sleeves. After patting his hair to ensure not a single strand was out of place, he told her, “Perhaps a tour is in store. Not tonight, I think, but on the morrow? I want to see where you live. How you live. I want to ensure your happiness,” he added emphatically.
Isabel’s widened gaze showed she was surprised. Wary, too, Sebastian hoped. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I suppose you haven’t seen everything yet. It’s a strange house but very beautiful. Tomorrow, then.”
“I can hardly wait.” Thomas’s smile grew smug as his sister ducked her head to finish the last of her soup.
But Sebastian saw it. He saw the calculated moves, the practiced smiles, and he heard every rehearsed word slipping off that man’s tongue. He played good, and he played nice.
It wasn’t the first time Sebastian had encountered his ilk. Living on the streets in London taught a boy rather quickly who he could trust. That sort of smile on a liar was always the same. He knew it in his gut.
Only Sebastian couldn’t prove it. He couldn’t even find the right words to tell Isabel that they should turn him out for good.
Isn’t his past clear enough to prove he cannot be trusted? I don’t like holding my tongue and yet I don’t wish to upset Isabel.
He mulled over this through the meal, hardly saying a word. Soon Isabel excused herself to check on the kitchens while the two men enjoyed some port and brandy. Promising to join them in the drawing room soon, she was gone, leaving Sebastian and Thomas alone together.
“You have a very fine cook,” Thomas said once the drinks were poured. “That was the best meal I’ve had in ages.”
Sebastian offered a curt nod in thanks. “I’ve heard you’re staying in town; the fare at the Horse Head could be better, I suppose.”
“Horse Head?” The man snorted. “Odd name for an inn. No, I’m staying somewhere else.”
Except that’s the only inn within an hour’s ride. Where else could he be staying?
Sighing loudly, Thomas relaxed into a slouch at the table. He had an elbow awkwardly on the ledge as he slumped down, gazing casually around the room. “It is a fascinating sort of house. Isabel speaks as though she’s updated everything here. What a surprise to give a wife such freedom.”
“Her changes were welcome,” Sebastian said. He took a sip of his drink before deciding he wouldn’t have any more. Staring into the dark liquid, he told himself to be attentive and wary.
