Nora’s warnings flashed through my mind.
My ruse was about to end.
Chapter 22
Atlas
Mary Anne was not supposed to be here. My aunt must have chosen to forget how much she disliked the woman in favor of inviting guests she assumed would make my return to Society more comfortable. I would have to set her straight later.
There was no formal seating arrangement, so I led Mary Anne to an open chair beside Barry. I pulled her chair out, and once she sat, pushed it in for her.
“Thank you, Lord Camden.”
I nodded, but instead of slipping into the chair beside her, as was custom when escorting a woman into dinner, I maneuvered myself down past Barry and claimed the open seat on the other side of Miss Lewis. It was a tactical movement with a dual purpose. As much as I dared not risk my patience by sitting beside Mary Anne, I dared not leave Miss Lewis to fend for herself against Barry’s suave flirtations. It had not taken many interactions with the woman for me to realize her naivete—and her dress and appearance made her more eye-catching than the usual lady’s companion.
“I hope you don’t mind if I take this seat,” I said to her.
“Haven’t you already taken it?” Miss Lewis asked. She did not meet my gaze but kept her head ducked. I thought we had made progress in our friendship, but perhaps I was wrong.
Mary Anne made the smallest noise of frustration when she discovered I did not plan on returning to her side, but I ignored her. I would not sit by her or speak to her if I could avoid it. She needed to know there were no lingering feelings on my part and not to hope for it.
In fact, I had only felt annoyance and dread when I had seen her in the drawing room. Certainly, she was still as beautiful as ever, but her looks were no gift to her. They had tainted her person. It relieved me to know, without a doubt, that there were no remaining threads tying my heart to hers.
The other side of the table filled up with guests—my mother taking a seat at the opposite end—while I happened to sit across from Augusta and Abramson. Augusta grinned at a witty remark Abramson made.
“Augusta seems to have found a pleasant seatmate, even if you have not,” I teased with a whisper.
Again, no response from Miss Lewis. I let it go and watched Augusta for another moment. It was a small comfort to see my sister enjoying herself in company, even if I could not recommend Abramson to her. I could not recommend any of my friends. How could I trust them when I had yet to discover who was responsible for my attack? Barry had been in love with Mary Anne as long as I had, and although I had claimed him as my best friend all those months ago, had he been eager to kill me off so he might have Mary Anne for himself?
Would she have hired men to kill me so she could comfortably pursue Barry?
Either way, she and Barry could have each other. Though Barry would not thank me for stepping aside. He had still not forgiven me for ending our friendship and did not believe I was through with the gambling hells, the excessive drinking, or pining after Mary Anne. Indeed, he took myrefusal to participate in the activities he loved personally, and the few times we had met, his scorn and offense had only deepened.
It seemed Abramson had been more merciful toward my absence amongst their circles. We had never been as close as Barry and me, but I questioned all my previous associates. Did Abramson harbor hateful feelings behind his smile? Did he try to kill me?
Lord and Lady Timbrell found their seats at the heads of the table, but a young man about my age with his mother on his arm—neither of which I recognized—hesitated when they saw the seats available. One was beside me and the only other open chair was beside Mary Anne. My choice of seat prevented them from sitting together. A twinge of guilt tightened my already frayed nerves. My lack of sleep did not help, but I had to endure a little longer before that could be remedied.
The older woman accepted the seat beside me, near Lady Timbrell at the bottom of the table.
Lady Timbrell made the introduction for us. “Mrs. Goodwin, do you know my nephew, Lord Camden?”
“No, I have not had the pleasure.”
I turned to smile at Mrs. Goodwin, taking in her pleasant smile. She was aged somewhere between Lady Timbrell and my mother, with streaks of gray in her dark hair. I dipped my head. “How do you do?”
“Very well. My son, Mr. Peter Goodwin, who is seated at the other end of the table is taking me to America. We are visiting some of our friends before we make our move across the world.”
“It sounds like an adventure.”
“Indeed, we hope so.”
Beside me, I heard Barry lean over and ask Miss Lewis where she was from.
“Er—Northumberland.”
Why did Miss Lewis hesitate to tell Barry where her family hailed from? I knew she had worked in Warwick last, but for some reason I had thought she had said she’d hailed from Derbyshire during her interview. Had I been mistaken?
I opened my mouth to respond to Mrs. Goodwin before I appeared rude, but I was saved by a footman who passed between us to place a tray of rolls on the table for us to eat with our first course of soup.
