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He smiled. “I will be looking forward to it.”
They stood there for a moment, looking awkwardly at one another, before Mr. Stewart cleared his throat. “I should be going.”
“Thank you for joining us for dinner.”
“I appreciate the invitation.”
Mr. Stewart started for the door. “I do wish you luck with your cousin this evening.”
Daphne glanced over at the drawing room door. “Thank you,” she replied. “I will need all the luck I can get.”
After Mr. Stewart departed, she walked back to the drawing room.
“Is Mr. Stewart your suitor?” Phineas asked.
“He is not,” she replied as she sat down on the settee. “He just arrived in Anmore, and we thought it would be polite if we invited him for dinner.”
Phineas nodded in understanding. “I would stay away from Mr. Stewart.”
“Why is that?” Daphne asked, feigning interest. She cared little for what her cousin thought.
“He doesn’t have two sixpence to rub together.”
“How would you know that?”
Phineas shrugged. “He was at Eton on a scholarship,” he said in a disgusted tone. “He no more deserved to be there than did the servants who shined my shoes.”
“How judgmental of you,” Daphne stated. “He earned his spot at Eton and had every right to be there.”
Phineas huffed. “He was poor.”
“Not everyone who attends Eton is rich, Cousin,” Daphne remarked.
“No, but they all hail from aristocracy,” Phineas pressed. “Mr. Stewart is the son of a brickmason. He is as common as it gets.”
“Regardless, he has made something of himself.”
“A leopard cannot change its spots,” Phineas said. “He may dress in fancy clothes, but he is the same worthless street urchin who came to Eton all those years ago.”
“He is not worthless,” Daphne declared.
Phineas lifted his brow. “You seem rather defensive about a man you hardly know.”
“I know enough to know that you are wrong about Mr. Stewart,” Daphne replied, tilting her chin defiantly.
Rising, Phineas said, “Have it your way, but I have no doubt that you will eventually see Mr. Stewart for who he truly is.”
“Which is?”
“Someone who is beneath your notice,” Phineas replied firmly.
“I contend that is not true.”
Phineas gave her a pointed look. “Be cautious around him,” he warned. “Mr. Stewart is not a man to trifle with. He was constantly getting into fights at Eton.”
“I shall keep that in mind.”
“I shall be back after I get my fill of the watered-down ale that the pub serves,” Phineas said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.
