spicy scent. The carriage door closed, engulfing the interior in darkness, and the brougham rocked to a start.
Aline reached up and flicked on the small electric lamp affixed to the roof of the brougham, feeling a sudden chill in the air that did not come from outside. She swallowed. Richard looked dangerous and lethal, and the bump of their knees as the carriage whisked across streets of varying quality made the roomy interior feel very, very crowded.
Chapter 7
Richard scowled at the crush of people, moving outside to their carriages and motorcars at a snail’s pace, who buffeted his every step in the foyer. He kept his eye on Aline’s slender white shoulders, making them a beacon he pushed after. His already grim expression grew grimmer when she lifted a hand to signal the umpteenth lady or gentleman she spotted in the crowd. He caught her hand before she disappeared, grateful to the crowd for at least this concession to impropriety. She curled her fingers around his and squeezed reassuringly as they wove between knots of chatting groups, dodging wild gestures and sudden movements until he stood before a statuesque woman of an indeterminate age, and a distinguished, white haired fellow who popped his monocle into one now grotesquely magnified blue eye and stared at him. The look he then turned to Aline was warm and a trifle more than paternal than his benign lift of her hand to shake. She smiled widely and gestured for Richard to approach.
“Sir Carleton, Lady Marlowe, may I present you to the Earl of Myddelton?”
Lady Marlowe greeted him politely, her tight-lipped smile not quiet reaching her eyes.
He repeated the worthless words as she turned away, toying with the strand of pearls at her throat, obviously bored with his presence. He turned his attention to Sir Carleton, who caught his monocle in his palm and gave his head the barest inclination of acknowledgement with a murmured “Your lordship.”
“Sir Carleton is my—well, our—neighbor in Kent,” Aline continued with a little laugh. “I have come to rely upon him utterly regarding matters of the estate.”
“Fie on your modesty, my dear!” Sir Carleton exclaimed jovially. “You will find Lady Myddelton an excellent steward of Myddelton Park during your protracted absence.”
Richard smiled cannily at the baronet’s pointed barb. “I am quite of the same mind, Sir Carleton. Aline had wired or written me more than once concerning decisions at the Park, but frequently solved the issues before I could respond.”
Something dark flashed behind Sir Carleton’s beady blue eyes. “Quite so, quite so. It was an honor to do what little I could for Lady Myddelton as her husband’s oldest friend.”
“And his dearest,” Aline touched the hand he patted on her arm.
Richard raised a brow briefly at their hands before noticing the thinning crowd in the foyer. He signaled for one of the theatre attendants wandering through the foyer to fetch the carriage, and returned his attention to Aline.
“Hadn’t we better go, Aline?”
“Go where?” Sir Carleton interrupted. “Surely not to dine á deux on this beautiful London night!”
“I wouldn’t want to take you from your own guests, Sir Carleton,” Richard said quickly, settling Aline’s cape about her. He briefly allowed his hands to linger possessively over her shoulders, his own breath hitching in reaction to her shaky exhale.
He frowned when she pulled away and stood beside Sir Carleton, her beautiful face suddenly acquiring a doll-like quality that actually frightened him. It was the