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After all, it would not do to let her feelings toward him grow into something visible. Let her remain distantly in love with him, in a way that would ensure she would never be truly hurt by him.
She forced the conversation away from Blake with talk of Mr. Wilde, who owned several cats and never failed to seek out her aunt on social occasions. Their friendship had extended to writing to one another these days and Demeter was grateful for her aunt to have a companion with similar interests.
By the time they joined the rest of the family, more people had entered the group, including Blake’s cousin, Mr. Foster. She had to admit, she wasn’t certain about this instinct of Blake’s. The man had perpetually rosy cheeks, a quick smile, and the sort of doughy face that made him look younger than his years. Demeter knew better than to be fooled by appearance, though. After all, she had successfully disguised herself as a young man on several occasions now, without being found out/unmasked. At least until Blake came along.
Drawing in a breath, she eased her way between the clusters of people toward her brother, his wife and Mr. Michael Foster. She rarely initiated conversation if she could help it, especially with someone new. Inevitably, her stutter would make a reappearance and leave her open to derision. But now was not the time for cowardice. If she was to take part in this investigation with Blake, she should take some initiative and find out what she could about Mr. Foster.
She fixed a smile in place and waited for her brother to formally introduce her. As the man’s gaze fixed upon her, his eyes widened, the pink of his cheeks turned almost crimson and he dropped into a deep bow. The man proved pleasant and spoke of her clear love of exercise and how he too enjoyed vigorous walks. Nothing about him implied he had a sinister side or was somehow up to no good.
In the periphery of her vision, she spied Blake ride up to their group and dismount swiftly, his feet striking the ground so hard it had to have hurt. His brow was furrowed.
Her breath jammed in her throat. He looked possessive. Almost feral. And for some reason, that expression was fixed upon her.
***
Even from his position at the edge of the group, Blake had spied his cousin’s expression.
And he damned well did not like it.
His gut itched. He stomped toward Demeter and Foster, his breaths feeling hot in his throat. Foster had no right to look at her so—no right at all.
“Blake,” Ashford called, following after him. “What’s the rush?”
He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed upon Demeter. Her brother and his wife briefly remained with her then moved off, leaving her alone with Foster. Foolish man. Did her brother not see what he saw? Foster’s cheeks were so red that one could spot the color from a mile away and his gaze kept flicking up and down her while he shifted from foot to foot.
Admittedly, the sprigged muslin dress with pointed lace trim flattered the slender length of her and though he’d only caught a glimpse of her face under a blue silk bonnet, he knew all too well how distracting those lips would be.
But it didn’t matter. Foster was trouble and he would not let Demeter get tangled up with him.
Even if Blake had been the one to request help with his investigation into Foster in the first place.
That was different, however. There would be no chance for Foster to try to charm her. He had yet to see Foster flirt but from the look in his cousin’s eye, Demeter had sparked his interest.
“Cousin,” Foster declared, his smile growing when he peered over Demeter’s shoulder to meet his glower. “How well met.”
“Hardly,” Blake grumbled. “You knew I was to be here today.”
And if it was not for the fact he wanted to keep a close eye on his cousin, he’d be annoyed at his constant presence. The man had wheedled introductions with his bumbling, humble attitude, and the fact he’d inherited a great deal ofold money. He wouldn’t be the first newly inherited man to attempt to ingratiate himself with theton, Blake supposed, but the whole situation stunk like the Thames on an exceptionally hot day.
He ignored his cousin. “Lady Demeter.” He tipped his hat. Ashford stepped up behind him and cleared his throat. He sighed. “You know Ashford of course.” He gestured to his friend.
Ashford grinned and tipped his hat. “You look hale today, Lady Demeter. Have you completed your daily walk?”
Blake shot a glance at his friend. What was going on? How did he know about Demeter’s walking habits? And why the hell was Ashford smiling like that?
Demeter swung her gaze between the three of them, a little crease appearing between her brows, then smiled gently as her cheeks pinkened. “I-I have.”
Blake knew of Demeter’s troubles with talking. It was hard to avoid some of the vicious gossip that circulated amongst the less generous members of Society, though he concluded jealousy usually played a large role in such nasty comments. All he knew was she’d suffered deafness as a child and it affected her to this day. But he hadn’t noticed the stutter when she had been spitting words at him and thrusting that chin out, declaring she would do whatever she wished and there was little he could do about it.
Today, that fire had doused. She seemed smaller, more delicate, and her chin remained meekly lowered.
He almost missed the Demeter he’d met that night.
“Does she not look hale?” Ashford looked to Blake. “A walk does one such good, do you not think, Blake? Lady Demeter here is quite the proponent of looking after one’s health.”
Blake muttered something in agreement while Demeter barely spared him a glance. Since when did Ashford know all this? And why was he acting all...charming? Yes, his friend could charm the stockings off any woman—and often did—but their tastes differed significantly. Ashford preferred more steady women. Women who were more likely to be found reading than lounging about half naked in bed.
Blake swallowed and shifted his gaze away from Demeter. He did not need to be thinking about sprawled naked women and Demeter at the same time. Images of long, pale limbs and pert breasts seared his mind. Damn his excellent imagination.
