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Her sister had somehow turned the conversation away from captured people to Vivian. “Vivian is an avid birdwatcher and enjoys spending time with a group that splits their time between Hyde Park and excursions to the countryside.”

She wanted to gawk at her sister. Hoping to find a new hobby, Vivian had joined a bird-watching group and attended their excursions only twice. The birdwatchers had turned out to be the most boring group of people she’d ever come across. Why was Clara bringing it up?

“Then you must join me and Mr. Yarnsby next week,” Duchess Torrington exclaimed with a bright smile. “You will be enthralled at the wonderful assortment of birds often spotted around our estate. We have spied waxwings and fieldfares, and on occasion, even a chiffchaff.”

Vivian had no idea what Duchess Torrington had just described; she knew little to nothing about birds. However, there was no way to get out of the invitation. She’d already agreed to go to her sister and William’s country home for the winter, and therefore she was now obliged to do whatever it was one did when birding.

“I would be delighted. I am certain it will be enthralling.”

Duchess Torrington looked to Yarnsby. Vivian forced her head to turn in his direction. “Alex, did you hear? Miss Vivian is fond of bird-watching.”

Something about the way he studied her made Vivian shrink back. “I agree, you must absolutely join Aunt Theresa and myself.” Obviously, he considered Duchess Torrington his aunt, despite not being related.

“Ah...yes, well, I will do my best.”

Clara yelped when Vivian pinched her. She managed to cover it up with a soft laugh. “I am so thrilled that my sisters will be with me for at least part of the winter.”

“I wasn’t aware you planned to leave for the season,” Mr. Jameson said. He looked perturbed, his brows lifted. “Was I wrong to presume you would be attending the New Year’s Gala with me?”

For a moment Vivian was caught off guard by the annoyed tone. Had she agreed to attend the gala? The last time they’d spoken, he’d brought up so many topics, it made her head swim.

“My family has been planning this for several weeks. I will not return until after the New Year, I’m afraid.”

With a huff, he shook his head disapprovingly. “We will speak of it later.”

“Do not be put out. There will be plenty of festivities after the New Year,” Vivian replied, feeling badly that she’d perhaps misled the poor man.

Instead of a reply, he gave a one-shouldered shrug. At the gesture, Penelope rolled her eyes and turned to Tommy. “I wish you were going to the country with me.”

Tommy tapped her sister’s hand. “My days of leisure are over for now. We have to forge separate lives now, poppet.”

Penelope’s eyes bulged at the pet name usually reserved for when someone considered another childish or immature. Vivian coughed in an attempt to distract from the interaction.

“I am not a poppet,” Penelope exclaimed. “Why did you call me that?”

Used to his youngest daughter’s dramatics, their father stood. “If everyone would be so kind as to remove to the parlor now”—he motioned to the doors—“I believe my wife has some entertainment planned.”

Once again, Mr. Jameson stood and assisted with her chair. When she turned away, Vivian found herself face-to-face with Mr. Yarnsby. His gaze lowered to her lips, then quickly darted away to Jameson.

After a soft nod, he turned to escort Clara out of the room.

Something was afoot, but Vivian could not put her finger on it. It was useless to try to get Penelope’s attention as she walked past on Tommy’s arm with her nose in the air. Tommy was apologizing profusely, although it was evident he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.

“My mother calls me poppet at times,” he explained. Penelope glared at him.

“May I have a word?” Mr. Jameson asked while pulling Vivian aside.

She met his gaze. “Very well. Just for a moment. We cannot linger.”

When his hand covered hers, Vivian wanted to pull it away. Of course, she’d known the man was interested in courting her, and at first she’d been agreeable to it. But the more she got to know Melvin Jameson, the more Vivian regretted ever accepting his company.

There was something about him that gave her pause. At the same time, there wasn’t any cause for her to be reluctant. Melvin was from a good, established family and was well liked in society..

Her father liked him, and even her cousin Todd, who disliked everyone, often met with Melvin at the gentlemen’s club.

“I had hoped to invite you to come to my house for supper—along with your parents, of course. I wish to formalize my desire to court—”

“Vivian?” Clara appeared, her gaze moving from her to Mr. Jameson. “Ah, there you are. We cannot possibly commence without you.”