And a dark part of her wondered if it even mattered. She’d failed utterly in her goals. But most of all, she’d failed her sister.
“You have been avoiding me, Reid,” Veronica Sloane said minutes after the fish course had been served in the glittering dining room where their group had gathered for yet another dinner party and ball at yet another fine house. “Do you have a reason?”
He had many, some that he could verbalize. Others represented only a myriad of mixed-up emotions he felt unable to share. Instead, it was more of a feeling that he was on the verge of making a complete change in his life, and a relationship with her—as he had decided the day he’d found Veronica in the Sloane House hallway shadows—would only complicate things, even if he wanted such a relationship. Was she really going to pretend no understanding had passed between them that day?
With care, he pulled apart his dinner roll and spread a small portion of butter on it. “We’ve all been busy, Miss Sloane,” he murmured. “You most of all.”
She smiled. “Listen to you! Those manners! Why, you almost sound charming.”
He raised a brow as he popped the bread in his mouth.
Still ignoring her plate, she leaned a little closer. “Did you find that difficult?”
“Not at all,” he replied lightly. He speared a thin portion of the sole and bit into it gratefully, thankful to have a reason to stop speaking with her. The fish had been poached in butter and lemon and practically melted in his mouth. He wished he had been able to savor it.
Impatiently, Veronica signaled that she was finished with the course. After a moment’s pause, a servant briskly pulled the untouched dish from the table.
When her spot was cleared, she visibly relaxed. “My brother and I have a bet,” she murmured. “We’re wondering who you are avoiding. Is it me? Or is it Douglass? Or is it someone else in our home entirely?”
Reid decided to play along, not wishing to cause a scene. “I have no idea what you mean. As I said, I have been much occupied with other pressing engagements.”
“No, you did not say that,” she replied, her voice chilled. “You said nothing about engagements. Who has captured your attention?”
He didn’t want to be difficult, but he also didn’t want to have this conversation with her, especially not within the hearing of other people at the table. “Forgive me, but I am finding this conversation tedious,” he said, a bit more loudly than was proper, risking causing a scene after all.
As he’d hoped, Veronica’s shoulders stiffened and the lines around her lips whitened. But at last she did what he’d hoped she would—she turned to the person on her left and began conversing.
Eloisa was seated on his right. As he took another bite of fish, she leaned toward him. “That was a tad harsh, Mr. Armstrong.”
“I know, and I am sorry for it.” Rather, he was sorry she’d heard him.
She shook her head slightly, the movement making the diamond pins nestled in her golden coiffure sparkle in the candlelight’s glow. “Oh, I didn’t mean you should apologize for it. It was deserved.”
There was nothing he could say to that without seeming more of a cad. “Tell me, how is your brother enjoying his European tour? My sister, Beth, seems to be enjoying her visit to Paris immensely.” As conversational transitions went, it was poorly executed. Yet he gazed at her, hoping to convey without words his need to move on.
She didn’t disappoint. Eloisa paused, then smiled graciously. “Currently, Thomas is in Italy. In Venice. Would you care to hear about his latest letter?”
“Nothing would please me more.”
She began a somewhat amusing anecdote that involved her brother, a stray cat, and some unfortunate valet with an allergy. Looking at her pretty expression and her perfect manners, Reid breathed a sigh of relief. Eloisa was everything gracious and kind—the opposite of Veronica Sloane with her skeletal frame, caustic conversation, and harsh criticism of anything and everyone.
Hours later in the ballroom, Veronica strolled by with one of Douglass’s more reprobate acquaintances. “Forgive me for embarrassing you earlier, Reid,” she said. “I had only been wondering if you knew about our Rosalind.”
“What about her?”
“She is gone.”
Icy fear made his voice overly loud. “Has she gone missing?”
Veronica flinched while her escort looked mildly intrigued. “Gone missing?” An eyebrow arched. “Heavens, no. She was fired.”
“Fired?” he barked.
“Have a care, Armstrong. There are ladies present,” Veronica’s escort cautioned.