And today, Miss Melinda Smithson did not fit. Her cogs were out of order—likely a female thing—and would rapidly be put to rights with the correct application of lubricant. Except, of course, he had already tried compliments and charm—his usual method of easing the social machinery—and she was even more out of sorts, glaring at him even as he embraced her father.
“Papa,” she said with a false amount of cheer, “I know it’s lovely that Mr. Anaedsley is here, but today isn’t a good day. It’s a family reunion of sorts, and he would be bored to distraction.”
“What?” her father asked, blinking owlishly at his daughter.
“Family reunion. Mr. Anaedsley isdetrop.” Her words were heavy with extra meaning, and for a moment Trevor feared he was about to be tossed out. That would be a problem for him. A massive problem, in fact, as he could not return to London for two days at a minimum. Three would be better.
But he needn’t have feared. Her father blinked dumbly at his daughter, then waved away her concerns with a snort of derision. “Don’t be ridiculous. Honestly, Mellie, I don’t know why you fuss so. I’ll talk to your uncle while you younger folk entertain yourselves.”
“A capital idea!” Trevor cried.
“A terrible idea,” Miss Smithson snapped, her voice much more strident than usual. “Papa, I wish to be there when you speak with Uncle.”
“Nonsense. I can tell him all about your frippery.”
“It’s not frippery!”
“Of course not, dear. I shouldn’t have suggested such a thing.” And then in the way of a very absentminded father, Mr. Smithson touched Trevor on the arm and guided him toward the house. “I’m so glad you’re here, my boy. I want to tell you about my latest experiment. Do you recall my cream against ticks? I was just now inspecting the effects on the sheep, and I’m afraid the results are rather disappointing. I thought perhaps you could give my formula a once-over.”
“It would be my great pleasure,” Trevor answered honestly. He fell into step with the man while stifling the guilt he felt at Miss Smithson’s glare.
Once, he would have found a polite way to delay her father, thereby restoring peace between the three of them, or at least to Miss Smithson. But his circumstances had become so desperate that a woman’s temper barely caught his attention anymore.
How low he’d sunk to feel such a way. And how desperately he needed a solution beyond food and lodging for three more days.
But this was all he had right now, so he embraced it with good cheer, entering into a scientific discussion about sheep ticks and softening wool before it was even sheered. Ten minutes later, the discussion was so detailed that he barely noticed their arrival at his mentor’s home. If it weren’t for the interruption by something the size of a small bear, he might not have noticed at all. But a behemoth did push him aside, Mr. Smithson’s notebook went flying, and then the massive man abruptly pushed Miss Smithson right back out the door. His voice brooked no disobedience as he cried, “Quick! Outside. Right now!”
“Ronnie!” Miss Smithson exclaimed, and she might have toppled if Trevor hadn’t grabbed her elbow. As it was, he dug his fingers too deeply into her arm, and she would likely sport bruises. But at least she didn’t tumble into the dirt. Or become completely flattened by the beast of a man whom he now gathered was her cousin and suitor, Ronnie.
Meanwhile, the behemoth in question was tilting her head up toward his face. Miss Smithson gasped, and for a moment Trevor thought the man intended to kiss her. Right there, on the doorstep in front of family and servants.
“I say, Ronnie,” began Mr. Smithson.
“Silence!” the man commanded.
Trevor felt his fists bunch as he calculated the most vulnerable spots on the beast’s body. He might not have interfered, but Miss Smithson had made her desires tonotwed this man quite clear. If this Ronnie intended to make inappropriate advances—and on the front step, no less—then Trevor intended to set the man straight.
Then another voice interrupted the excitement—a man’s voice, deep and slow, but no less clear. “Oh, for God’s sake, just let him look. He’s been prattling on about the color of her eyes for three days.”
“My eyes?” Miss Smithson cried.
“Yes,” said Ronnie, the word clipped and his expression intent.
And sure enough, as everyone watched, Ronnie took hold of Miss Smithson’s head in his massive paws and turned her into and out of the sunlight.
Back somewhere in the hall, Mr. Smithson snorted as he bent to recover his fallen notebook. The newcomer—presumably Ronnie’s father—echoed the sound before asking after some new shipment to the Smithson’s wine cellar. Trevor, on the other hand, didn’t relax until he saw the butler calmly turn aside to hand off hats and coats to a waiting footman. Family might well discount the danger, but servants always knew. If the Smithson’s butler saw nothing untoward, then Trevor could relax his fist.
He did, easing his grip on her elbow as well. But he stayed right by her side while her bizarre cousin continued to twist her head one way and the other as he stared intently at her face.
Meanwhile, Miss Smithson rapidly got tired of being manhandled. “They’re brown, Ronnie,” she snapped as she tried to pull away. She had more hope of pushing aside a boulder.
“Of course they’re brown,” her cousin agreed. And yet he continued to study her as…well, as Mr. Smithson studied his insects. “To the baker, they’re brown. To a lovesick stable boy, they’re brown. But to me, sweet Mellie, they are decidedly more interesting thanbrown.” He actually sneered the color.
Trevor felt his irritation run away with him. Was the man a Bedlamite? “But theyarebrown,” he said.
The behemoth shot him a triumphant glare. “Exactly my point.”
Miss Smithson made a very loud sigh. “Ronnie—”