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‘Go ahead and join them all,’ Elise urged ruefully. ‘I intend to go and keep your papa company. I have hardly exchanged a word with him all evening.’ Elise had noticed that Mr Chapman was on his own now James Whittiker had sidled off to eavesdrop on conversations.
Anthony Chapman was feeling happier now he was free of Fiona’s beau’s tedious company. He could tell the fellow was irked at having been thoroughly cast into the shade by the arrival of two handsome young bucks. Anthony remained unruffled at the sight of his wife and the other middle-aged ladies fluttering more feverishly about the charming fellows than were the youngsters. He was aware Maude was anxious to find husbands for their girls. But Anthony knew that if his wife’s aspirations now included Alex Blackthorne she was clutching at straws. He was utterly out of their league in that respect and, in Anthony’s opinion, was merely being polite in coming over to renew his acquaintance with Hugh’s aunt. Anthony expected both gentlemen would take themselves off quite soon, although young Kendrick did seem partial to the older Dewey sister, and, in turn, Beatrice seemed to have taken to him.
As for the viscount, Anthony had spotted him earlier with the pretty little lady he was rumoured to have recently set up in style. No sane fellow would leave Celia Chase at a loose end for too long. She was reputed to have a circle of gallants drawn from the finest Mayfair addresses. Anthony had not heard that Blackthorne was on the lookout for a wife and, when he did decide to get an heir, the fellow’s connections and bank balance would make a duke delighted to have him come calling on his daughter.
‘We have turned into a lively gathering,’ Mr Chapman greeted Elise’s arrival at his side with that cheery comment.
‘Indeed we are lucky,’ Elise said, attempting to sound sincere as her eyes glided over the saturnine features of a man who held the power to destroy her life. ‘But...it is a shame that the entertainment is drawing to a close.’ She glanced at the podium where the musicians were starting to pack away their instruments.
‘Perhaps we may have entertainment of a different sort,’ Anthony remarked with mild humour. He nodded to where a gaggle of ladies were stealthily approaching their party. ‘I could have sworn my wife told me Mrs Porter cut her dead in Baldwin’s fabric emporium the other day.’ His head vibrated in feigned surprise. ‘Yet it looks as though the woman and her friends are now desirous of catching Maude’s eye. I wonder why that might be?’
Elise chuckled—she found Mr Chapman’s amusing manner relaxing. Several young women had joined Mrs Porter and her cronies, hovering on the perimeter of their circle hoping for an opportunity to butt in and draw the viscount’s notice. Mrs Porter’s patience expired and she tapped Maude on the shoulder, then squeezed a place beside her. Her friends began delicately elbowing some space, too.
‘I imagine the hour is getting quite late,’ Elise remarked. She glanced up at a crescent moon shimmering in a starlit sky of navy blue. Despite the danger in which she had foolishly placed herself earlier she had to admit it had been an exciting evening. Viscount Blackthorne, as she now knew him to be, might forget her before he reached home that night, but she would never be able to put him from her mind, or what he’d done to her. Heat stole into her cheeks at the memory of a sensual mouth moving on hers, of cool night air on her skin as he bared her body to his hands. And tomorrow, she inwardly scolded, when you are sane once more, you will realise just how much you risked for that sordid thrill.
‘It is almost a half past ten, my dear,’ Anthony supplied, returning his watch to a pocket. ‘I’m afraid it will soon be time to hail our transport home, if I can drag the other ladies away.’
‘We have not had an opportunity to talk properly this evening. How do you do, sir? And you, Miss Dewey?’
Unnoticed by Anthony and Elise, Alex had detached himself from the press of female admirers to stroll to join them, unaffected by the disappointed sighs drifting in his wake.
Mr Chapman allowed his hand to be taken in a firm grip. Although he rarely socialised in the same circles as the aristocracy he’d seen this fellow in his club and had approved of the fact the viscount never felt the need to impress his status on lesser mortals.
‘Glad you and Mr Kendrick have come over to liven things up, sir,’ Anthony said cordially. ‘Was feeling rather outnumbered by the ladies—just Mr Whittiker and myself, you see...’ He cast on his daughter’s suitor a mournful look.
‘And how are you, Miss Dewey?’
