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“He gets worse and worse,” I muttered.
Floyd shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” He cleared his throat when he noticed my glare. “Anyway, the point is, Rigg-Lyon was a lock-up-your-sister type. I didn’t know him well before, but my inquiries have revealed that he made a play for almost anything in a dress aged under twenty-five.”
“Even girls of good families?”
He nodded.
Mr. Hardwick claimed his friend only took performers as mistresses, not genteel ladies. Perhaps he’d lied about other things, too, such as knowing the reason for Rigg-Lyon and Broadman’s argument before the match.
“Does Broadman have a sister who may have fallen victim to Rigg-Lyon’s, er, charms?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. I still think the rumor that Broadman attempted to steal Rosa from Rigg-Lyon is the reason for their argument that day. More than one person claimed Broadman tried to poach her at a party one evening.”
That didn’t mean they hadn’t got their information from the same source who was trying to spread that rumor—Hardwick.
Floyd suddenly frowned at his sister, several steps ahead, and quickened his pace. “The devil.”
A gentleman walked alongside Flossy, his fingers lightly skimming her elbow. He smiled at something she said, and she giggled behind her hand in response.
I hurried after Floyd and reached them in time to see the glare he fired in the gentleman’s direction. He gave Floyd a condescending bow and a smirk to go with it, before ambling away.
Flossy turned on her brother. “That was rude of you. Why did you glare at him like that?”
“He’s a cad, Floss. Stay away from him.”
“We were just having a conversation,” she said hotly. “I had to talk to somebody.”
“Flossy is capable of deciding for herself if a gentleman is a cad or not.” My defense was just as terse as Flossy’s, earning me curious looks from both of my cousins. “She doesn’t need you to make those sorts of decisions for her, Floyd.”
“And how is she to make a decision when she doesn’t have all the information?” He turned back to his sister. “If it were still legal for a gentleman to challenge another to a duel for trying to seduce his wife, then that fellow would be dead five times over. You may not be someone’s wife, Flossy, but you’re my sister. I don’t want you falling in love with a lecherous, amoral turd.”
Flossy looped her arm through her brother’s. “Thank you, Floyd. But I don’t think I would have fallen for him. His eyes are too close together.”
They walked on arm in arm with me alongside them. They chatted for a while about some gentleman or other, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. He’d intervened in my life just as Floyd had done for Flossy. The difference being, Floyd hadn’t gone behind his sister’s back to find information, nor had he gone to Uncle Ronald.
But Floyd would have told Uncle Ronald if Flossy had expressed an interest in the cad.
Perhaps I should have done what Flossy did and made sure Harry knew I had no feelings for Mr. Miller. Perhaps he would have acted differently.
The thought cooled my temper a little, but it didn’t disappear altogether.
The hostfor the evening’s party was a prominent cricketer who played for the national team as well as the Middlesex Cricket Club. With the only international matches for the year being played at the Olympic Games, he and many of his teammates were in London for an upcoming county game. Naturally, the players of one gentlemen’s sport knew several members of the other great gentlemen’s sport, and there were several polo players from the two London clubs in attendance.
Considering their fierce rivalry and the mystery surrounding the death of Mr. Rigg-Lyon, the air crackled with tension. The arrival of Mr. Broadman caused a series of whispers to ripple through the gathering. Heads turned. Players from the Polo and Gun Club stiffened, while those from Mr. Broadman’s Elms team closed protectively around him. It made for a welcome distraction from my thoughts, something which the conversations about ducks, Ashes, maidens, and silly points failed to do.
Although the host and hostess hadn’t called their event a ball, it had all the hallmarks of one, with dancing, music and refreshments. For once, there were more gentlemen than ladies, so Flossy and I were never short of partners. She enjoyed the attention immensely, but after several dances in a row, I wished I could disappear into the wallpaper and simply observe.
The only gentleman I wanted to dance with was Mr. Broadman, so I could get his measure a little more, but he danced only twice, both times with the prettiest girl in the room. Instead, I made do with his cousin.
Mr. Liddicoat hadn’t asked a single girl to dance all evening. If Miss Hessing had been here, he probably would have danced several times with her already, but Mrs. and Miss Hessing hadn’t been invited. Not moving in the cricketing circles probably meant they’d never met our host and hostess, whereas both Uncle Ronald and Floyd were keen on the sport.
“It’s good of you to ask me,” I said politely as Mr. Liddicoat led me to the middle of the floor.
“You don’t appear in need of rescuing, Miss Fox.” He settled his hand on my waist as the music began. “Indeed, I’ve wanted to dance with you since I arrived, but had to wait until now.”
“You’re in the habit of rescuing young ladies without partners.” It wasn’t a question. I’d had several opportunities to observe him over the past few weeks, and I’d noticed he only asked the friendless girls, the ones who were ignored, at best, or outwardly ridiculed by other men at worst. Early in our acquaintance, Miss Hessing had been the victim of some cruel taunts, and often found herself on her own while all the other girls danced. That was until Mr. Liddicoat came along. Ever since their meeting, she’d enjoyed not only his company at parties, but that of other men who thought she might be worthy of a closer look.
“You’ve asked around about me,” he said.
