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However, the presence of Miss Lockhart was forcing him to do just that, and he didn’t like what he saw.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Satterfield approaching. Titus pivoted slightly. Satterfield was one of the only people he accepted into his inner circle.
“You came,” Satterfield said, echoing his wife’s earlier statement.
Titus kept his focus on the street, but darted a look toward his stepfather. “You and my stepmother have so little faith in me.”
“It isn’t faith, my boy. It’s just that we know you.” He smiled briefly. “Genie says you’ve been standing over here brooding the whole time.”
“I’m not brooding. I’m enjoying the only company I can tolerate.”
“That doesn’t speak well of any of us, does it?” Satterfield said this with humor, provoking a small smile from Titus.
He glanced at his stepfather. “Present company excluded, but then you haven’t been here the entire time.”
“Gads no, but then I can barely tolerate this sort of thing either.”
“So why are you here?”
Satterfield pivoted so that his back was to the window and he faced the room at large. “Same reason as you, I expect. I love your stepmother, and I want to support her. Did you meet Miss Lockhart?”
At the mention of her name, Titus had to reassess his behavior. Perhaps hehadbeen brooding after all. “I did.”
“She and Genie get on quite well. I wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, but I have to admit, it seems to be working out.”
Titus was glad for that—no one deserved happiness more than his stepmother. She’d accepted him as her own son the moment she’d married Titus’s father and hadn’t treated him any differently once she’d finally had her own child. The loss of that child, Titus’s sister, was only one of the reasons Titus was eager to see her happy. He’d do anything for her, in fact. Anything except take a duchess.
Maybe someday. Just not now.
“And did your evening find a satisfying end?” Satterfield asked.
It was his polite way of asking if Titus had secured his mistress for the Season. He had. Isabelle Francis was incomparably beautiful—or so Titus had thought last night. However, she now seemed a trifle…colorless next to Miss Lockhart. Her hair was pale blond, while Miss Lockhart’s was a vivid auburn. Isabelle’s eyes were an incandescent blue—beautiful—but simple, as if she were only capable of a studied range of emotions. Miss Lockhart’s had possessed a feral quality. Somehow he’d detected a fierce independence buried in their depths.
Titus turned his head to look at Satterfield and to see if he could catch a glimpse of Miss Lockhart. She stood on the other side of the room, engaged in conversation—a vibrant addition to the mundane tea. Indeed, she didn’t look much like a companion at all. Weren’t they supposed to sit out of the way and observe?
“Kendal?”
Feeling as though he’d been caught stealing a biscuit from the kitchen when he was six, he snapped his attention back to his stepfather. “Yes. Last night proved most favorable.”
Today, however, was proving strange. Miss Lockhart was provoking him to feel things he hadn’t in years. First was his inconvenient attraction to someone who wasn’t his mistress. He hadn’t been beleaguered with such nonsense in an age, and he’d be damned if he’d start now. No, that nuisance could be thwarted or at least ignored.
Second, however, was the memory of who he used to be. How, once upon a time, he might have flirted with Miss Lockhart, perhaps stolen a kiss in a dark garden, and never given her another thought.
He inwardly flinched, despising that callow young man. He caught his stepmother looking toward them meaningfully.
“Genie’s giving us the evil eye,” Satterfield said. “I’d best go and smooth her feathers. I’d ask you to join me, but I know what your answer will be.” He clapped a hand on Titus’s shoulder. “Never you mind. She’s just happy you’re here.”
Titus watched Satterfield join the group, then turned his gaze back to the street where it was safer. However, despite his intentions, he found himself sneaking looks at Miss Lockhart several times throughout the tea.
And that simply would not do.
Chapter Three
Nora’s heart had been racing at the outset of the tea this afternoon. This was her first official foray into Society, and she’d worried about how people might react when they saw her again. So far, however, things had gone swimmingly. In fact, she hadn’t expected Lady Satterfield to include her quite so…robustly. As a paid companion, she’d expected to help serve tea or ensure that no one was excluded from conversation. Instead, Lady Satterfield had introduced her to everyone who arrived. It had felt—just a bit—like her first Season.
Except she was ten years older and far wiser. She hoped.
Lady Satterfield interrupted Nora’s thoughts by introducing her to a new arrival, Lady Dunn. Past middle age with dark gray hair swept into an elegant style, Lady Dunn raised her quizzing glass and surveyed Nora from the top of her head to the tip of her shoe. “I remember you, gel.”
