Suddenly some odd, inner jolt—as distinct as a finger-flick to the back of his neck, a feeling as though a song had come to an abrupt halt in the middle of a waltz—made him turn his head sharply.
Lillias was motionless. Not just motionless; it was as if her entire essence had retreated to the very center of her, as though she yearned to be invisible. He remembered her sitting like that in the drawing room at The Grand Palace on the Thames once or twice. As though she was enduring some private misery.
It would have to be a remarkable circumstance indeed that would make her yearn to be invisible.
Her eyes were fixed on one of the taller blokes.
Hugh narrowed his eyes and assessed him.
Like the others, he was otter-sleek in a lintless black coat, his neat square chin hugged by a cravattied with what struck Hugh as unnecessary flair. His features were symmetrical. His hair was an artful toss of dark waves. If he had to, Hugh could probably pin him to the ground in less than a minute. Which was frankly the way Hugh assessed every man, even the ones he liked very much. (Delacorte: ten or so seconds, as he would be ticklish. Captain Hardy: a fight to the death. Lucien: would probably have a knife hidden in a convenient place on his person, but he could get the job done in an hour or so. Hugh was younger.)
The gleaming handsome bloke seemed to notice the quality of the attention fixed upon him, because he turned his head like a colt sniffing something dangerous on the wind.
He went still when he saw Lillias.
Anchored by a dimple, his smile began at one corner and spread into a slow curve. His eyes lit like twin sunrises. His teeth, square and blinding as pianoforte keys, appeared. Hugh had never seen such radiant delight.
The color drained from Lillias’s cheeks as swiftly as if someone had pulled a bung.
Seconds later, a smile wobbled fitfully across her lips, as though a drunk puppeteer had gotten hold of their corners.
What the bloody hell was going on?
Hugh reflexively cupped Lillias’s elbow and steadied her, because it seemed only seconds before her knees gave out.
The smiling man’s eyes dropped to that little juncture of Hugh’s hand and Lillias’s elbow, and his face froze.
And then gracefully, leisurely, he separated fromhis herd of brethren and strode over, aiming like an arrow for Lillias.
He had clearly decided to pretend that Hugh was invisible.
Hugh wished him luck with that. Hugh, who had never been invisible in his life, and who hadn’t been raised on scrupulous English etiquette, still knew a snub when he experienced one. He was darkly amused. He could bide his time.
The man bowed.
Lillias managed to curtsy.
“Lilly. I was so looking forward to seeing you. Mother said a bit of renovation is taking place on your townhouse and you’ve been compelled to repair to a boarding house. It sounds rather colorful.” His voice was so aristocratic.
Lillias seemed mute. That wobbly smile had shrunk, but still qualified as a smile.
“You are well? Your family is well?” the man prompted.
“All well, Giles. Is your family well?”
Ah,Giles, was it?
Where had he heard that name before?
“Mother, Father, Claire, and St. John are all well. Giles, I should like to introduce you to Mr. Hugh Cassidy.”
Giles’s head turned with what appeared to be a great, unnatural effort, as if his entire being was invested in pretending Hugh didn’t exist.
He was forced to confront Hugh and his unblinking gaze.
“Your... dancing instructor?” Giles offered what was meant to be a puzzled little smile.
Hugh’s smile was the metaphorical equivalentof a finger drawn over a knife blade to test its sharpness.