The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(152)

She could see now why Marcus had insisted upon Amelia and Mary coming. Rather a clever little gambit. But once again she got that cornered feeling only he seemed to produce.



Cornered, or intimate, knowing what she had seemingly shared with him in the cave? If it had been him. If it had, why did she not feel so thrilled by his company?



Because first impressions, especially ones in a pitch-black cave when she was being kissed and fondled to a fevered frenzy, were not the most reliable, she admitted to herself with a sigh.



Even Jane had been deceived, in broad daylight. And Charlotte. Vanessa. Were all men deceivers? All men apart from the Rakehells? And even they had fibbed to their wives in order to protect them….



That sobering chain of thought followed her throughout dinner. She managed a couple of glances at Will down at the far end of the table, cutting up Mitchell's dinner and patiently helping him mop up a spill. He chatted with Parks and Monroe amiably about their plans for the morrow. Surely not all men, she amended.



Eventually even the thick-skinned Fitzsimmons noticed she was more and more noncommunicative.



"My dear, are you unwell?"



"No, not at all. I'm just going over all my lines in my head for the play later," she said as she straightened her shoulders, trying to dispel the blue devils she had allowed to take over her normally tranquil mind.



"Ah, yes, of course. Looking forward to it."



"Indeed, if everyone is ready, we might adjourn to the drawing room for coffee, and get started," Thomas said with a measuring look at his sister.



He knew her well enough to know that something had come over her in the past few days. Was it possible she was in love?



With which one? He looked at the sea of new faces around the room. He hoped that if that was indeed what ailed her, it would be Wilfred Joyce.



He sighed. He could not make the choice for her. In any case, there was no accounting for a lady's heart and mind. Anyone could see the sober young chap was completely head over heels, but so modest he seemed to be retiring from the field without even trying to engage in battle.



Thomas smiled. He disapproved of matchmaking, but there was no harm in trying to help the poor fellow's cause along, now was there? That would mean getting Fitzsimmons out of the way.



He looked over at that man now, and frowned. There was just something so… reptilian about him. Cold. Impassive. No, not reptilian. Chameleon-like. As if he could change his colours depending upon what company he kept.



"I say, Fitzsimmons, there's a horse fair on tomorrow in Cork. I should be most grateful if you would condescend to spend the day with me looking over what's on offer."



"I'm at your service, sir," he said with a barely contained smirk. "I was actually going to look for a few mounts for myself and my sisters."



"Good, then. I shall have the carriage come pick you up at eight. I am told if we are not there early we will miss out badly."



"Very true."



"I understand you plan to ride tomorrow, Elizabeth. I hope you don't mind if we join your party. Would you care to join us in turn for a luncheon on the beach if the weather is fine?" Stewart asked.



"Delighted, thank you."



"And we have arranged a wine tasting for you all for tomorrow evening," Clifford added to Stewart and Will in a low enough tone for it to be understood that Fitzsimmons was not to be included.



"Thank you, we would find that most pleasant," Stewart accepted for them both.



The Fitzsimmons sisters could not invite themselves to such an occasion without looking immoderate, and so they lapsed into silence and scowled.



"And of course there is to be the ball at the end of the week," Charlotte pointed out to put them back into good humor. "We shall have much to do to make all the arrangements."



"Whatever help you need, you have only to say," Will said sincerely.



Charlotte and Vanessa both smiled at him with approval. "Thank you. Your interest would be most welcome."



They too did not approve of matchmaking, but they did not see any harm in bringing the retiring young man out of his shell.



After all, so many men had been affected by the war. It was over now. He ought to try to come back into the normal way of things, not dress as though in deep mourning all the time. It was such a waste for so attractive a man with such a sterling character.



They rose from the table and went into the drawing room, where they had gathered copies of the play and moved the furniture from one end of the room to create a makeshift stage. The French window and curtains served as stage right. Now all that had to be decided upon were the parts.