Using Ansel now would have been disastrous, especially if some unintentionally helpful soul mentioned that he was on his grand tour. With Tarik’s presence in London, everything was infinitely more complicated, and I had to navigate all the intricate lies I had constructed.
“A pleasure, Mr. St. Clair,” Blake said.
Tarik canted his head, a slight frown marring his mouth as he studied my friend. Did he recognize him? Blake and Ansel had both attended Cambridge, while Keston and Rafi had enrolled at Oxford, though like most of his ilk, Blake had barely deigned to attend any of his classes. I knew that for a fact because he loved boasting about it.
Agitated, I opened my mouth, preparing to redirect the conversation, but Tarik seemed to relax. “Likewise, my lord,” he said.
Blake’s eyes shifted to me, narrowing, and then back to my companion. “A house party you say. Which one?”
“One you clearly weren’t invited to,” I retorted, earning myself another brow-raising glance from Tarik.
Blake was the closest thing I had to a male best friend, but to anyone else, especially duringtonevents, he seemed to behave like a suitor, which I encouraged. That was his role, of course, designed to chase off fortune hunters, old decrepit peers, prepubescent heirs, and the like. Usually, I enjoyed our intrigues, since I had no interest in getting married. But now I wanted to kick him in the shins.
However, I didn’t have time to do that, as the others arrived, their faces inquisitive, unused to seeing me with a handsome young man our age. Despite loudly bemoaning my solitary existence and pretending to be enamored at every turn, I rarely showed favor toanyoneat these social events. I performed the introductions again. Tarik seemed much more at ease with the other two gentlemen than he’d been with Blake.
“So,” Ela said softly, sidling up to me and drawing me to Zia, a few feet away from where the boys were already in conversation. “Here you are on the arm of the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen, well besides Keston, of course. Wherever have you been hiding him?”
Zia grinned, her eyes lighting with mischief. “Yes, Rosalin, where have you been keeping that fine specimen?”
I felt my cheeks burn at her singsong, teasing words. “I haven’t beenhidinghim. He’s been at university in Cambridge, dozens of miles away, and he’s here now to make social connections for a business venture. Stop inventing melodrama that doesn’t exist, for heaven’s sake.”
“Oh, wait a moment! Ishewhy you’ve been running back to Newmarket every chance you get?” Ela asked slyly, and I cringed internally. I hadn’t realized anyone had been keeping track of my movements, though I supposed my absence would have been noticeable to my two closest female friends.
“I have an ongoing charity obligation,” I said.
“Must be hard work, thatcharity,” Zia teased, with a sidelong glance to Tarik. “Looks like it might take quite a lot of time and effort on your part. Not that I blame you. A girl could climb your charity like a tree.”
“Zia!” I couldn’t help it, I giggled. “And honestly, aren’t you engaged to Rafi? You should be only interested in climbing your own tree.”
“I have eyes,” she said, while Ela cackled.
Grinning, Ela leered at me. “Herowntree? Does that mean you admit someone else with eyes like a tropical ocean isyourtree? Andhasthere been climbing?”
Tarik’s eyes were prettier thananyocean.
Heat ignited under my skin on the heels of my thought at her much-too-obvious innuendo. Climbing sounded a lot like kissing, but I wasn’t going to go down that path, not when the idea of it made me much too breathless. Tarik wasn’tmyanything, and yet, I relished how that sounded, like I had some sort of claim to him. “I’m not a gardener, Ela,” I said primly. “There’s no climbing either.”
“Would youlikethere to be climbing?” Zia pressed.
I shook my head, certain that my face was the color of beetroot. “You two are incorrigible. Tarik is a friend, nothing more.”
I knew my mistake the moment the two syllables of his given name left my mouth. Both their eyebrows hiked to their hairlines, and I wanted to kick myself. “Tarik,is it?” Ela commented, exchanging a wicked look with Zia. “Sounds like someone has been doing a little gardening after all, don’t you think, Zia?”
“Who’s been gardening?” Blake interjected, gazing down from his height into our tiny huddle. “Rosalin doesn’t like to get her hands dirty.”
I glared at him while the girls erupted into giggles. “Go away, Blake. The boys are over there.”
“But girls are so much more fun,” he said in a dramatic whine. “Besides there’s always juicy gossip. Don’t be mean.”
“God, you’re such a child,” I said, happy to redirect the conversation.
The look in both the girls’ eyes told me the conversation was far from over, but everyone in our circle knew that Blake had the loosest lips this side of the channel and usually was the one who knew most gossip. I couldn’t risk having him getting ahold of any information about Tarik. Though from his speculative glances over to where Tarik was obviously talking about his social club plans to Keston and Rafi, who both appeared rapt, I might already be too late.
Ela leaned in. “You do look well, Rosalin. It’s nice to see you…so lighthearted?”
“You do seem happier than usual,” Zia remarked. “Is your father still planning to marry you off this season, or did you somehow find a way to get out of it?”
“Does said happiness have to do with a certain guest of yours?” Ela interjected.
