And yet.

And yet. She could not stop imagining his big hands under her foot as he lifted her. For he would be gentle. She had to believe that. Some man, somewhere, had to be gentle. Why not this one?

I am such a fool.

CHAPTER FOUR

Dangling Feet and Participles

What on earth just happened? Gavin wondered as his valet helped him into a fresh cravat.

Mawkins was a dab hand with the length of cloth and would have taken care with the tying of it, but Gavin grumbled his usual refrain. “I’m a simple man – keep it simple.”

Mawkins tutted but did as requested. “Which coat, sir?” He hadn’t asked about the waistcoat. Mawkins had stopped asking about waistcoats years before. Gavin was hopeless with waistcoats.

“We’ll be at cards all afternoon.”

Mawkins selected a refined charcoal frock coat, cut in such a way as to make Gavin’s shoulders seem even larger. Gavin thought it a bit much, but Mawkins was never wrong about frock coats.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

Can you explain to me the workings of one wee assassin’s brain beneath the blackest hair I’ve ever seen? Would it be soft, that hair? I’ll wager it’s soft. And springy.

“Nay. Thank you, Mawkins. Everything solid belowstairs?”

“Nothing of consequence to report, sir. The odds are against Mr Jackson.”

“I ken that’s the truth of it.”

“Would you like a flutter in favor of his suit?”

“Nay.”

“Sir? You know something of consequence?” Mawkins was never one to turn down a wager, especially if he might benefit from inside information. Since he’d started out as Gavin’s batman, he enjoyed a level of familiarity with his master unprecedented amongst his peers. Thus, he was wise to the aristocracy.

Gavin explained, “I’m thinking Jack has more than just family set against him.”

“Poor Mr Jackson.”

“Aye, indeed.” Gavin didn’t explain further. He didn’t know why Lady Villentia was intent on Jack, nor what relationship she had with Snodgrove. He was beginning to doubt she was there to kill the duke. But that might be wishful thinking.

He must conclude that his own feelings regarding Lady Villentia were too confused to relay anything further to Mawkins. The valet was in favor of matrimonial bliss and could prattle on at the slightest whiff of interest. Sir is such a nice man – why hasn’t sir found himself a wife? Gavin would not be beaten down by his valet. No matter how old a friend.

“Find us a mourning band for dinner tonight, please? There’s a household ghost. It wouldna do to be disrespectful.”

“Very good, sir.” Mawkins collected the travel-soiled garments. “Will there be anything else?”

“You’ll manage the claret for later?”

“As always, sir.”

Gavin retrieved his current book, in case card games or conversation lulled over the course of the afternoon. He was back downstairs a mere fifteen minutes after having left.

Jack was hovering over his lady, who was busy with her scandalous flower sketching. They were discussing the finer points of herbaceous borders. It was a subject about which Gavin was certain Jack knew nothing. However, ignorance had never stopped Jack from waxing poetical on any subject.

Of course, he searched the room for Lady Villentia, pretending that he was getting a feel for the gathering and watching out for Snodgrove’s safety. The resulting spike of disappointment at her absence was ridiculous.

She’d surprised him in the hallway. She’d flirted with him, and not in the calculated manner she threw at others – with those sharp, careful smiles. No, she’d forgotten herself for a moment and given him insight and delight without caution.

He had to wonder. Did her inclinations match his own? Did she wish to be cared for in the way he preferred? His sexual experience was limited to ladies of a professional nature. Yet even the most experienced of his partners had been startled by his requests. As a result, he’d given over finding a lass who might answer his desires in kind. Yet Lady Villentia had appeared almost eager. Should she like it, to be cherished?

He forestalled his thoughts – not right in polite company.

He was disinterested in the game of whist between Miss Leeton, Lord Lionel, Lord Blingchester, and the duke. The two matrons were gossiping softly about who was to be presented at court, a conversation in which he would be unwelcome.

With no other option, he approached Lady Florence and Miss Pagril, who, while disinterested in him as a marriage prospect (thank heaven), seemed pleasant lasses.

They occupied a window seat together and were not averse to his company, if their smiles were any indication.

“Captain Ruthven,” said Lady Florence, “are you refreshed from your journey?”

“Aye, Lady Florence. The sandwiches were verra helpful.”

Lady Florence hid a smile.

Miss Pagril did not. “Should you like more?”

Miss Florence joined her friend in teasing. “Shall I ring for Jennings? It would be no trouble.”

Gavin chuckled, delighted that they were relaxed enough in his company to mock. “I’d as lief na trouble Jennings. He seems the type to mock a lad who canna resist a sandwich.”

Both ladies laughed.

They chatted amiably, Lady Florence and Miss Pagril disposed to be charming both to him and to each other.

Lady Villentia took longer than Gavin expected, even for an exquisite. When she finally appeared, she had changed into a dark blue day dress of watered silk. Again it was simple, decorated only with a little fringe about the bodice. His lass seemed to favor simplicity. None of that, now, she isna mine. I need na pay attention to her preferences, much as I would enjoy it.