He pushed off the column and turned to face her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I sent her driving with Mr. Vane almost an hour ago. For the second time.”
Vane.He frowned. Why was that name familiar?
Vane—finally he placed the name. Vane was that upstart who’d been haunting him at the Den since the fall. Absently, he scratched his thigh.
She’d gone riding with Vane.
Twice.
Last week, Eliza had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him. Today, she’d gone riding with another man. He scratched harder. Was Vanetheman, then? The one waiting for her answer?
I said her price was marriage. I did not say she wished to marry you.
“Lord Redver?” Lady Asquith’s startled gaze dropped to his thigh and back. “Are you well?”
He splayed his hand.Dammit.The tisane had been suppressing the itch. What had happened to overpower the tisane’s effect?
“Perfectly,” he lied.
A commotion inside the salon saved him from further inquiry. Emily, he deduced, had missed a step and stumbled over her partner—Miss Lenora, the one with the fake cravat.
Miss Lenora’s back stiffened, and she raised a fake quizzing glass.
“Where did you take your lessons, Miss D’Acre?” she asked, in deep voice.
Emily’s shoulders dropped.
He took a step closer, thinking his sister’s feelings had been hurt. Then, however, he realized she’d simply doubled over with giggles.
“Unseemly display,” Miss Lenora continued in a gentleman’s voice.
Emily laughed even harder.
She was fine, he reassured himself.
Amused. Not insulted.
“You will not be able to protect Miss D’Acre from every slight, you know.”
“I am more than aware of how closely she will be watched.”
Lady Asquith hesitated. “But if you married, Miss D’Acre would also gain the protection of your wife’s family—a precious resource when one must be presented.” She sent him a significant glance. “I know a thing or two about these things.”
“Are you implying you would consider an offer from me for Miss Wainwright’s hand, should I have the temerity to make one?”
“If—and only if—my goddaughter returns your…admiration.” Her gaze ran up and down his person. “To be honest, title or no, you weren’t what I had hoped for Eliza. But I daresay one could a kind of providence. Were you aware Poppy and Olivia were once close confidantes?”
He frowned. “I assume the Olivia in question is my mother. But Poppy?”
“Penelope. Eliza’s mother.” Lady Asquith’s smile suggested she had, temporarily, lost herself in memory. “I can still see the two of them clear as day…sitting on the bench in the back garden of Asquith House, Poppy with her long, chestnut hair, your mother, fair and blonde. You favor your father. But Emily…”
Yes. He knew. Emily was the picture of their mother. Tall, fair, and with the brightest of blue eyes, a complete contrast to his own sharp, dark features.
“I wasn’t aware you were close to Miss Wainwright’s family.”
“To her grandparents, yes. Perhaps I should remind you my husband was heir presumptive. Over the years, I developed a certain fondness for her mother, too. And yours.”
