How rude. Her papa had always told her there was no excuse for rudeness. And she’d done nothing wrong. If he’d seen Sebastian kiss her hand, that was something to speak to Sebastian about, not punish her for.
Emma shot Wentworth a scathing look, raised her chin, took Sebastian’s arm, and said sweetly, “I would be honored.” She would thank the duke later for her papa’s portrait…when he demonstrated some civility.
***
For the love of God, had the two of them plotted against him? And had she been flirting with Sebastian? She’d certainly pulled her gloveless hand from Sebastian’s quickly when she realized he was there. Thomas would not put it past his brother––but Emma? He sighed, letting his breath out slowly as he fought to control the anger churning inside him, looking for an outlet.
Dinner was a disaster. Not that anyone else noticed. Thomas sat at the end of the table facing his mother. His sisters sat on one side, facing Sebastian and Emma. The courses came and went. Thomas didn’t taste a thing. Even so, when the servants came to take his plates away they were empty. He didn’t remember putting the food in his mouth, never mind chewing and swallowing. He caught his mother’s frown when his glass of wine was refilled again. Exactly how many times had it been refilled? Damned if he knew.
All Thomas knew for sure was that he felt out of place sitting at his own table, in his own house, while the conversation traveled from one person to another – never including him. Their voices resonated around the room, and not once did he grasp what was being said. Laughter came and went, and he had no idea what was so amusing.
At one point, all eyes peered at him and an uncomfortable silence descended around the table. His mother’s voice broke the spell. “I say, Thomas, why don’t we retire to the drawing room for sherry?”
“Why, yes, excellent idea. Why did I not think of it?”
Thomas entered the drawing room last, skipped the sherry, and poured a generous amount of brandy into a crystal glass before walking over to the chess table.
“Sebastian, how about a game?” he asked.
“Why, brother, I would love to.”
Once Sebastian sat down opposite him Thomas pinned him with his eyes. “What do you think you are doing?” he whispered, for their ears only.
“What do you mean?” his brother asked.
“You are flirting with Emma like some hound chasing the scent of a bitch in heat.”
His brother flinched. “Lower your voice. Do you want everyone to hear––including Emma––that you just compared our new sister to a female dog in heat?”
“I know what I just said.” Thomas’s voice rose several octaves, and everyone’s eyes fell on him. Just what he did not need. He’d embarrassed himself in front of his whole family––and her. How the bloody hell was he supposed to relax in his own home with her everywhere? And why the bugger did he buy her jasmine perfume when one whiff of it sent half his blood to his head and the other…well…down?
“Excuse me.” Thomas stood, knocking over his chair in the process. “I’m going out.”
Thomas stalked from the room and barked an order to Giles. “Have the coach brought around.”
***
As Thomas entered Brooks’s sometime later, he found Myles sitting with their friend Amesbury and––his heart sank as he recognized the other man––Lord Templeton, Viscount Riverton. The lord’s gossipy tongue rivaled that of the aging Lady Shrewsbury. Thomas would swear the lives of people like Templeton and Lady Shrewsbury revolved around digging up scandal amongst the citizens of the haut ton. More than that, they considered it their duty to spread the word when they found it.
The two of them had personally ruined many reputations, for some warranted, for others not. They were the cause of many Gretna Green weddings and at least one suicide, that of a prominent captain in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. And innumerable young maids cried in their pillows at night after finding their name whispered by their lips, then plastered in the gossip rags for all to read.
There was a time Thomas’s family’s name had graced the print in the gossip rags––but not anymore. God help them, if he ever found his name or that of one of his siblings as the topic of conversation between the two battle-axes. All the more reason he had to keep Hamilton’s secret and the circumstances of his death confined to Myles, Amesbury, and himself. His two best friends could be trusted with his life.
Amesbury spotted him first and motioned him over. “Wentworth, finally you arrive. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about our meeting of the minds. Riverton just stopped by to pay his respects.” Amesbury turned to the viscount. “If you will excuse us, the three of us have urgent business matters to discuss.”