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The older woman may have had trouble hearing, but she had eyes that rivaled a bird of prey. Now she turned her sharp gaze directly on Sylvia. “Don’t tell me you never encountered a handsome rogue or two in your little village.”
Oh, dear Lord.
Sylvia’s neck grew impossibly hot. It wasn’t that Mrs. Crawford intended to embarrass her. The woman was simply beyond such trivial concerns at this stage of life. A group of bloodthirsty highwaymen could enter the room at this exact moment and she would probably ask which one was the best shot. Now she waved her bejeweled wrist in the man’s direction. “You will have ample opportunity to gape at Mr. Davies during tea, like the rest of us, but for now I need tosit down.”
Sylvia inhaled deeply before she dared to speak. “Of course, Mrs. Crawford. My apologies.” She immediately moved aside to let her employer pass and cast a cautious glance at Mr. Davies. His polite smile now held the barest hint of a smirk, the faint lines around his mouth suggesting he did so often, and their eyes met for one excruciating moment. Long enough to note his were the exact shade of melted chocolate. Then his gaze swiftly moved to Georgiana. Sylvia got the distinct impression that she had been assessed, found wanting, and roundly dismissed.
“Lady Arlington, good afternoon,” he said in a rich baritone that trailed lazily down Sylvia’s spine. “You look as lovely as ever.”
“Why, thank you,” she said, accepting the compliment with her usual grace. “Wonderful to see you again, Mr. Davies.”
“The sentiment is mutual, my lady.” He then arched a dark brow and leaned toward her. “But don’t let your aunt think I’ll forget that ‘rogue’ comment.”
Georgiana gave him one of her famous serene smiles. “Oh dear. I suppose it’s pistols at dawn, then,” she quipped. “Miss Sparrow, will you be my second?”
“It would be an honor,” she mumbled after an awkward pause. As if it weren’t already humiliating enough to have her rather obvious ogling pointed out, she couldn’t just stand there while the man proceeded to flirt with Georgiana.
Without another word, Sylvia strode ahead, dutifully took the teacup a maid handed to her, and sat down beside Mrs. Crawford. Several other guests were already seated, none of whom bothered to acknowledge her. It was just as well. Ladies’ companions weren’t supposed to garner attention from anyone except their employers. As Sylvia took in the finely decorated room, Georgiana approached them, now on the arm of Mr. Davies. He smoothly pulled out the chair beside Sylvia, and Georgiana sat down. No man had ever done such a thing for Sylvia before––not that she had ever wanted one to. She was independent. She could sit in a blastedchairby herself. And yet that slight tightening in her chest was most certainly from envy. Sylvia cast another subtle glance at him through the veil of her lashes and noted sharp cheekbones and a strong, straight nose. She was tempted to call him beautiful, if not for the distinct air of superiority that seemed to emanate from him. Just then the afternoon light glinted off his glossy hair, a shade lighter than his eyes and perfectly styled. There. A flaw. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to a man who paid such exacting attention to his own appearance, even if the results were sublime.
Georgiana flashed him another smile. Her bronze tresses looked even more radiant than usual. “Thank you, sir.” He returned her smile and stepped away.
Sylvia released a breath. Now Mr. Davies would take his unexpected handsomeness and be on his way. Then she could go back to several minutes ago, when she had been entirely unaware of his existence. Unfortunately, the man took a seat directly across from her instead. Their eyes immediately met, and Sylvia barely had time to conceal her surprise as a hot flush fanned out across her cheeks. Of course the fiend noticed. Just as one corner of his full mouth began to turn up, Sylvia pretended to take great interest in the richly patterned carpet. It looked old and expensive, just like everything else in the castle.
“Mr. Davies,” Georgiana began in her cut-glass voice, “allow me to introduce Miss Sparrow, my aunt’s companion.”
Sylvia swallowed her sigh and reluctantly lifted her gaze. Now she’d have to look at him again. And for longer this time.
“Delighted to meet you,” he said, his eyes practically twinkling. “I understand you’ve taken up residence in the library.”
All Sylvia could manage was a nod, as her throat had apparently decided to stop working. He waited a moment, no doubt expecting her to make some kind of vocal response, as was generally expected in social situations, but instead she buried the screaming impulse to keep his attention and looked away.No.Let him think she was an absolute dullard. At that moment a maid appeared with a tray of warm cinnamon-scented buns. Sylvia had never been so thankful for the appearance of pastry. Anything to distract her.
But just as she brought it to her lips, Georgiana leaned over and whispered by her ear, “Mr. Davies is the younger son of the late Earl of Fairfield.”
Sylvia glanced over. He was now talking with Lady Taylor-Smyth, a glamorous widow who hadn’t deigned to acknowledge Sylvia’s presence. She focused on the faint pang of disappointment that lanced through her chest. Of course. Another aristocrat. All the more reason for her to ignore him.
“But his mother was a notorious actress, and the marriage caused a rift with the earl’s older children.”
That was slightly more interesting.
“Rumor has it he joined the Royal Navy under a false name as a boy years ago. Though after his father’s death he developed a predilection for moreidleentertainments. Since then he’s been living mostly abroad, but he returned to London last spring. He’s made quite an impression already.”
Just then the woman beside Mr. Davies let out a giddy laugh, and he flashed her a raffish grin. Sylvia had a fine idea of how he managed that.
“I’m not sure why you’re telling me any of this,” she hissed as softly as possible.
Even Georgiana’s shrug was impossibly elegant. “I thought you’d like to know.”
Sylvia’s mouth tightened. “Well, Idon’t,” she insisted.
Georgiana looked unconvinced. “Suit yourself.”
“What are you young ladies whispering about?” Mrs. Crawford barked, startling them both. Sylvia began coughing as she nearly choked on her bite of bun, and Mrs. Crawford gave her a look of concern that a stranger could easily confuse for extreme irritation. “You aren’t feelingill, are you?”
Sylvia coughed a few more times and managed to shake her head. “No, Mrs. Crawford. But thank you for asking.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Davies turn toward her.
“Are you certain? Now you’re turning rather red.” Then she leaned closer and lowered her voice to a mere yell. “Do you need to be sick?”
The older woman was constantly worried about the health of everyone around her but never her own. Sylvia took a breath before answering. “I assure you, I am quite well,” she said, taking care to enunciate each word. Loudly. Across from her, Mr. Davies’s shoulders trembled slightly.
