Page 74 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

He nodded and went on, satisfied that no one suspected them of a rendezvous in the library.

Lynch greeted him with, “Hayworth is with me on the property bill.”

The viscount’s chest swelled with indignation. It was hard to take the baby-faced fellow seriously. “I never realized the extent to which ladies were oppressed.” He reddened. His gaze flitted to Trentham’s, but he failed to maintain eye contact. “Your Grace, I had no idea. That is…since coming to London, I’ve been met with the most appalling rumors. You must know—”

“I do.”

“I confess I nearly fled back to Orchomenus. But a friend of mine cautioned against it.”

“Fleeing is an admission of guilt.” He quoted Felicity. And Lynch.

“When I received Lady Lynchford’s invitation, I hesitated to accept. My friend said I should expect you to be here. But I—I decided I must brave it out.”

Trentham thought it would be impolite to recall to the fellow his late arrival. Evidently, Hayworth had struggled with the decision until the last minute, but at least he’d made the right one.

“Your Grace, I’m honored by your faith in me.”

Idiot. “In all honesty, Hayworth, my faith is in my sister.”

He flushed again. “Yes. Yes, of course. If there is anything I can do to help clear our names, her name, I will.”

Lynch put in, “The less you are involved, the better. But do stay in London.”

“I will. But—”

“It’s under control,” Trentham said, looking down his nose. The last thing they needed was a young hothead making things worse. As well he knew.

“We might call upon you, if necessary,” Lynch said. “We have to see how this evolves.”

How it evolved. Earlier this evening, before the party, he had spent a good two hours discussing the endeavor with Lynch. Armed with Eli and Felicity’s agreements, they’d go to see Michael Derry in the morning.

It was all complicated and messy and depressing. The affair had commanded the whole of Trentham’s attention throughout the day, and he should still be chewing over it now. He was. But he also had one eye trained on the door for Miss Delancey’s return. And the inappropriate lightness still filled his heart.

*

Trentham came in his coach to fetch Lynch early the next morning. Lynch stood in his drive, despite the drizzling rain. He clambered aboard as soon as the carriage stopped.

“You might have waited inside,” Trentham said.

Lynch shrugged and set his bowler hat on the bench. “My greatcoat kept me dry.”

“Yes, but you’re getting my coach wet.”

Lynch grinned. “Don’t be such an old maid.”

The carriage began moving. Trentham crossed his legs and jiggled his foot nervously. “This will succeed, won’t it?”

“Better than the alternatives.” Lynch’s face fell. “And better, I suspect, than Dessie’s plan to make an unhappy marriage an anathema to Lady Elizabeth.”

“Well, she tried.” Trentham sighed. It had been a long shot. “I must say, I was glad the evening ended early. I’ve never been at a gathering before where half the people were not speaking to someone else in the room.” Lady Elizabeth had spent the evening avoiding him. As had Miss Delancey, after their interlude in the library. He’d been stuck with Lord Hayworth.

Lynch ducked his head. “I’m sorry to have abandoned you. Hayworth’s not a bad sort, but he’s deadly dull. I couldn’t take any more talk of that excavation at Orchomenus.” Lynch gave him a sidelong glance. “Where is that, anyway? Greece?”

“I don’t much care.” Trentham snickered. “Hayworth is overly enthused about his own archeological destiny. As soon as he reaches his majority, he says he’ll have the funds and experience to set out on his own expedition. He wants to dig up the Phaeacians.” They were the fantastically wealthy—and, Trentham was quite certain, mythological—islanders who had been so helpful to Odysseus on his way home.

“Good God.”

“What I took away from the conversation is that he is wealthy, starry-eyed, and not yet twenty-one. The very idea of Felicity giving him more than the time of day is ludicrous.”