Mrs Poynings tittered. “Not if Miss Tarporley and Miss Leigh have anything to say to it.”
Since both Caroline Tarporley and Tabitha Leigh were a deal younger and prettier than she, this jibe would have found its mark if Delia had not a clandestine rendezvous in prospect on the morrow. Even so, she was conscious of a tiny sting. Giff might be her secret, but she had no claim upon him.
Lady Matterson, casting her friend a scorching glance, stood up. “Come, Delia. I am tired and need my rest.” A nod to her friends. “We will see you all after dinner.”
Rising with alacrity, Delia offered her arm. They were scarcely out of earshot before Lady Matterson spoke her mind.
“Silly woman! Pay no heed to her, Delia. She has never got over how long it took to get her fubsy-faced daughter off.” She gave a tiny sigh. “Emily does not mean to be spiteful. She will be sorry presently, and I shall have to endure a barrage of apology and justification for her having spoken so meanly to you.”
“It is nothing to me, Aunt. I am not jealous of either female.”
Her aunt cast her one of her sapient looks as they walked away along the Esplanade. “Didn’t seem to me you’d any reason to worry over that young man casting his eyes elsewhere.”
“Why should I? I scarcely know him.” Her pulse flittered uncomfortably and she kept her eyes on the cobbles, as if she was minding their steps.
“Yet he clearly had some effect on you.”
“I was taken by surprise, Aunt.” Which was the absolute truth. “I very nearly ran into Mr Rodber as he came in.”
“Ah, that is what discomposed you, is it?”
The sceptical note was pronounced. Delia took refuge in silence, looking towards their lodging to see if Miss Pegler had come down to open the door. “It looks as if Peggy has not seen us.”
“She’s not there. Gone on an errand for me.”
Delia looked round. “What errand?”
“Something I needed, that’s all. Your Sally is deputising.”
This was so unprecedented, Delia could not help feeling suspicious. Why should not Aunt Gertrude reveal where Peggy had gone? And what could she be doing that must take half the day to accomplish?
The question did not occupy her mind for long. As Sally appeared to answer the doorbell, it occurred to Delia that it might be useful to take her into her confidence. If she needed to send to Giff, who better than Sally to take a message? Except she had no notion where he was lodging. She must ask him tomorrow.
By the time the morrow dawned, however, Delia was so out of charity with her erstwhile prince she was almost ready to murder him herself. Reappearing in the principal Assembly Room during the evening entertainment, which consisted of a quartet of musicians playing on a dais while the company chattered amongst themselves paying scant attention, Giff appeared to be bent upon making himself the life and soul of the party.
Since he held off from Delia beyond what might be regarded as acceptable politeness, she was unable to take him to task for exposing himself in such a way. Seething, and deeply mortified, she watched as he charmed first one group and then another. Even Miss Watkinson came in for a share of his attentions. Preening, she stopped by Lady Matterson’s chair where Delia was in attendance.
“Such an amusing creature, Mr Giffard! Fascinating tales of India he has to tell. Wild tigers and a haunted temple! A ruin now, he says, expressing the hope he might discover a ghost at Sandsfoot Castle tomorrow.”
He would discover a ghost all right. A phantom from a forest ride. And be lucky if it did not slap his silly face for him. Haunted temples!
Next came Mr Warbleton, who hobbled over all smiles for having enjoyed a half hour of reminiscence. He interrupted Lady Matterson’s conversation with Lord Hadlow without ceremony. “Sound young feller, that. Knows his cotton inside and out.”
“Cotton?” Lord Hadlow’s bushy grey brows wiggled alarmingly. “What’s cotton to do with being sound?”
“Everything to do with it. Feller has a plantation over there. Highly lucrative, the cotton trade. Won’t be short of a penny or two, which means you young ladies will all be on the catch for him.” With a nod to Delia, who had nothing to say.
Unlike Lady Matterson, who was crushing. “I dare say. But without family, he may whistle for a suitable bride.”
She cast a glance at her great-niece as she spoke, and Delia cursed the warmth rising in her cheeks. Did Aunt Gertrude suspect she already had a tendre for Giff? Was it meant for a warning?
The evening began to seem interminable. Delia’s only solace lay in treasuring up what she planned to say to Giff the moment they managed to steal a moment alone at the ruins. If they so managed. Just as Mrs Poynings predicted, Caroline Tarporley, putting in an appearance escorted by her brother, lost no time in gaining an introduction and remained talking to Giff for several nerve-wracking minutes. Delia’s surreptitious observation put her in a ferment of jealousy as Caroline laughed and blushed, with Giff leaning towards her more than once. Hateful creature! He was nothing but an atrocious flirt. And he’d had the temerity to take exception to her speaking to Captain Rhoades.
Well, if he dared to refer to her as his flower girl after this, she would have something to say to him. What he hoped to gain by making himself the talk of Weymouth, she could not fathom. Did he suppose it must get back to Piers? But his cousin had no spies within the Assembly Rooms. Or had he?
A chill entered her breast. Her aunt once more thoroughly engaged with Lord Hadlow, she took the opportunity to eye the resident visitors in turn. No, this was silly. Ridiculous to suppose Piers had an ally in any of these. But what of the servants? Several waiters passed to and fro through the evening, bearing trays as they supplied thirsty gentry with suitable refreshment.
It was conceivable that Giff’s cousin had bribed one of these to report on his movements. But would he already know of Giff’s advent? Yes, there had been time enough for either Sam or Barney, presumably still on the watch, to report back. He’d come soon enough when she’d sent her message. But Giff was bent upon luring him into appearing in person.