Groby narrowed his eyes, but then shot a glance toward Beatrice. “Surely you mean to introduce me.”
Gideon hadn’t, actually.
But there was no clean way around it now. Not without making his reluctance more interesting than the introduction itself.
“Lady Beatrice Beckman.” Gideon kept his hand on her back. “Mr. Dudley Groby.”
Groby’s gaze lingered on her, and then he tilted his head as though something about her snagged in his mind.
“Lady Beatrice Beckman,” Groby murmured, as though testing the name against some private thought. “Dasborough’s little sister, yes?”
“Yes,” Beatrice said. Her voice was steady.
Enough.
“You have business in London?” Gideon asked. The words might have passed for polite, but his tone did not.
Groby’s mouth pinched, looking too smug for Gideon’s liking.
“Indeed,” he said. “Family matters. I imagine you’ve heard.”
Gideon held his stare. “Rumors travel.”
“That, they do,” Groby practically trilled. “And there may be rather more truth to them than… certain members of society would like.”
“Time will tell,” Gideon said. Then, almost idly, “The law moves slowly in matters of this sort. By the time such claims are settled, the complainants are often in no position to enjoy the judgment.”
Groby’s smile slipped.
But then, once again, Groby’s attention shifted back to Beatrice.
“You must find our politics terribly dull,” he said, looking at her more closely now, with a quiet, searching interest. “You know, I can’t help but wonder… You look so familiar. Have we been introduced before?”
Beatrice shook her head at once.
“No,” she said. “We have not.”
Gideon stepped forward, placing himself more firmly between them.
“As diverting as this reunion has been,” Gideon said mildly, “I am sure you were going… somewhere.”
Groby’s gaze returned to him, and for a moment, neither man moved.
Then, with a faint, dismissive exhale, Groby inclined his head. “As you wish.”
One last look—cold, assessing—flicked between them before Groby turned on his heel, his cane striking a measured rhythm against the pavement as he walked away.
Gideon did not move until he was gone.
“That is the man who was set to marry Lady Hannah, isn’t he?” Beatrice said at last, breaking the silence. “I don’t know why I didn’t expect to ever meet him in London.”
Her gaze remained fixed on the stretch of pavement where Groby had disappeared.
Then her mouth tightened. “Thank God Dash married her instead.” The words came quietly, but with an edge Gideon had not expected. “I would not wish a man like that on my worst enemy.”
Her expression shuttered for the barest instant. Then she drew a breath and looked away.
“Do you think…” she continued, more quietly now. “Do you think there is any merit to his claim? About the Lovington title?”
