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And he stalked his way toward her group, ignoring this time what he was quite sure was the unrecognized wife of one of the royal princes, dandling an illegitimate grandchild of the King’s on her knee. Typically he did his best to court royal mistresses into the Albion, since they often had money to spend and were not accepted everywhere. Rowden’s philosophy was that if money from the public coffers which constituted the allowance of a prince was to make its way into private hands, those hands might as well belong to him and his partners.

But he was not courting anyone else today. Sophronia turned and smiled at him when he arrived at her side, and the pure delight in her expression made something strange and powerful sweep through his insides.

Then a veil entered her eyes, as if she were recalling their kiss, just as he was, and the memory put her off balance, just as it did him. She paused in the act of reaching out a hand, considered, then lay it on his arm, her smile turning into a tease.

“You are angry with me, I detect,” she murmured.

“Mary Kemp,” he growled, pitching his voice for her ears only. “You wasted no time in throwing her at Gibbs. When you knew my plans for her.”

“Mary Kemp is not for Giles,” she said lightly. “She needs someone to look after her, and Giles requires someone to look after him. It would have been a terrible match.”

“You do not think Miss Westall will require the same attention?”

Sophronia sent her friend a fond glance. “Lily is the nurturing sort. She will adore looking after Giles, and his affection will be her reward. She is accustomed to caring for her father, whereas Miss Kemp has not had the same experience.”

Rowden ground his teeth on the truth of this, which Sophronia had recognized and he had not.

“Come, then,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since I am going to win our bet, I have a few eligible ladies to make you acquainted with. I had thought to make them known to Giles, but as he is already so attached to Lily⁠—”

“Only because you sidelined my choice for him,” Rowden said. “I’ve never known you to stoop to cheating, Ro.”

“No holds barred when it is a fight for the heart,” she answered. “And I think you should be happy for your friend Gibbs. I made his marriage search very efficient, thus taking a burden off you.”

“And losing me a valued patron of the Albion,” Rowden said. “Gibbs used to spend all his winnings there, but I doubt the new Mrs. Gibbs with all her niceties will allow him to frequent gaming parlors.”

“Then he can spend evenings at home with his wife, and I imagine domestic tranquility is what he craves. Come, you must meet Lady Payne.”

Rowden tried to keep the names straight as Sophronia introduced him to her elegant companions. Lady Payne he knew as the common-law wife of the late Earl Payne, who had been heir to the previous Marquess of Arendale. Atwood, Rowden’s partner, knew all the gossip about the great families stretching back thirty years and was never stingy about sharing his knowledge. The current Marquess had brought his second family into his home when his father died in the West Indies. His six half siblings enjoyed his purse, his home, his name, and his protection, and only the highest sticklers, like the Mary Kemps of the world, dared snub them for their origins.

Rowden had saved one of the boys one night when he had gotten neck-deep into a debt that would ruin him in the eyes of his family. The trick shoe had let the young man leave the club with no more than respectable losses, able to hold his head up among his family, and he had played more wisely from there on out.

Lady Payne was supposed to know none of this, yet she gave Rowden a small smile as she held out her hand in greeting. “I recently enjoyed a successful night at your hazard table, Mr. Rowden. My son Hannibal recommended your establishment.”

“He is well, I hope?”

“Making preparations to go abroad at the moment. Starria is traveling to Brazil on a botanical expedition to find new plants.”

The middle sister fairly bounced on her heels with excitement, her eyes sparkling. “Sir Joseph Banks has said he will consider any promising specimens for Kew Gardens, and if I discover something altogether new, I get to name it.”

“What a fascinating occupation to have, Lady Starria,” Sophronia exclaimed. “Mr. Rowden is an ardent fan of travel. You shall have to compare adventures. He is contemplating a voyage to Russia, I believe.”

A brittle undertone in her voice made Rowden look sharply down at Sophronia. Her expression on the surface was all friendly interest, with that frank, open manner she had that made people trust her instantly and want to confide in her. But underneath was a steely tone of—hurt?

Ro didn’t like the idea of his leaving.

“I have only been to parts of the Continent,” he answered. “Nowhere as far away or fascinating as Brazil.”

“I get sick when we travel by carriage to Arendale in the north,” said the elder sister, Lady Tressie. “I doubt I could tolerate another long sea voyage.”

“You just want an excuse to stay in London instead of rusticating in the country,” said the youngest among them, Lady Selene. Unlike her sisters, who wore pastels, and her mother, whose gown was edged with deep blue trim, Selene was dressed entirely in white, which highlighted her glowing skin. She regarded Lily in the speculating way that young girls did, evaluating whether another was a rival or friend.

“Do you like the country, Lady Selene? If so, you must speak with Giles about his estate in Hungerford,” Sophronia said encouragingly.

“Standen Park is very lovely,” Lily said. She edged closer to Giles, pressing his arm to silently signal her claim.

“Great brick pile in the Elizabeth style,” said Giles, innocent of the undercurrents. “Pretty gardens. Ghastly amount of upkeep.”

“Giles, you should invite the Falsteads to visit,” Sophronia exclaimed. “It is only a short excursion, Lady Tressie, and not too fatiguing. You could bring Lady Judith as well— Where is she today?”