Chapter Four

      The Bloomfield music room was full to bursting. Seated in a row near the front, only by sheer willpower did Tess squash the urge to look over her shoulder to see where Sandford was seated.

      ‘Sit still, Theresa,’ Wilhelmina hissed. She glanced worriedly at the man on Tess’s other side, the man whom Phin wanted her to marry. Somewhere in his late thirties, Mr Stedman wasn’t much taller than Tess, and his pale complexion and portly figure spoke of a sedentary life. Fortunately, at the moment he seemed oblivious to everything but the young lady playing the harp. A most uninspired performance in Tess’s estimation, but perhaps she was not in the mood for music. She nibbled her bottom lip. Would Sandford keep his promise? And if so, how would he manage to speak to her without attracting attention?

      The piece finally concluded to polite applause.

      ‘Brava!’ Stedman called out. Several people turned to stare, but he seemed oblivious to that, too. He half-turned in his seat. ‘A fine example of the young lady’s talent, Lady Theresa. When might I have the pleasure of hearing you play or sing?’

      When the sun ceases rising above the horizon?

      ‘Theresa has a lovely voice,’ Wilhelmina hastened to say. ‘Perhaps when you have dinner with us next week she will oblige us.’

      Tess gritted her teeth at their insistence on using her full name. Could she really stand listening to her name spoken in that precise way for the rest of her life? She might not have a choice if Grey couldn’t be found. And even he was located he might be unable or unwilling to assist... She forced the doubt aside. Grey would not let her down again. He must only have meant to borrow the bracelet, perhaps to pawn? Surely he would have intended to redeem it as soon as possible and return it to her?

      ‘Refreshments are served in the Egyptian drawing room,’ their hostess announced from the front of the room.

      Mr Stedman offered his arm and, along with the rest of the guests, they shuffled along their respective row and were herded out of the gilt music-room doors. The invitation had spoken of a select gathering, but to Tess it looked as if every member of the ton were present. All except Sandford. Dratted man.

      Mr Stedman hissed out a breath. ‘Lady Theresa. My arm. Your grip.’

      She loosened her hold. ‘I beg your pardon.’

      He patted her hand where it now rested lightly on his sleeve. ‘Do not fear, I shall protect you.’

      He couldn’t protect a rabbit. A baby one. She smiled absently, scanning the faces around her, but given her lack of inches she could not see beyond those standing closest.

      The drawing room proved to be a nightmare of overcrowded heavily carved furniture representing all manner of strange beasts, such as crocodiles and ibis. One had to be careful not to bark one’s shins on sharp claws or beaks while manoeuvring around the people crammed inside.

      ‘I must congratulate Lady Bloomfield on her daughter’s performance,’ Wilhelmina said. She swanned off in a rustle of royal-blue silk.

      ‘I shall get us some tea,’ Mr Stedman announced. ‘Wait right here.’

      Was she to pretend to be a statue? Tess inched out of the centre of the room to stand beside a low table by a window.

      Finally, she could breathe. And have a proper look about her.

      ‘Lady Tess.’

      She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Sandford’s voice so close to her ear and the light graze of his breath across the top of her shoulder.

      ‘Lord Sandford! You startled me.’

      ‘You were expecting me, were you not?’

      ‘Yes, but—’ She glanced up into his haughty expression. ‘Do you have to creep up on a person?’

      Her heart sped up. Because he had startled her—nothing else. And if the recollection of his kiss had flashed into her mind, it was only to remind her to be extremely careful around this man.

      He gave a soft laugh. ‘One would be hard pressed to sneak about in here.’

      That low laugh made butterflies take wing in her lower abdomen. So annoying. She glanced towards the teacart. Mr Stedman was on his way back with two teacups in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other.

      ‘Do you have news for me, my lord?’ She kept her voice low in case anyone was listening, but could not keep the urgency out of her tone.

      His eyes were sympathetic. He had no reason for sympathy, unless... Her stomach dipped.

      ‘Excuse me.’ Mr Stedman thrust a teacup and saucer at Tess. ‘Lady Theresa, your tea. I put plenty of sugar in it.’

      Of course he would. She usually only took cream, but he’d made her tea the way he liked his.

      And how had he moved so quickly through the crowded room? She ground her teeth in frustration. ‘Mr Stedman, may I introduce you to Lord Sandford?’

      Her swain visibly brightened. He set the plate down on a nearby table, and with an overly friendly expression reached out to shake Sandford’s hand, pumping as if it would cause nobility to spill forth and anoint him. ‘Please to meet you, my lord. Very pleased.’

      Tess sipped at her tea, naughtily wondering how the stiff nobleman would handle such an effusive greeting.

      Sandford raised an eyebrow. ‘Stedman.’ An awkward pause ensued.

      Stedman swallowed down a sip of tea. ‘What about this business of Ireland, then, my lord? Damn lot of Catholics wanting the same rights as Protestants. Divisive, I call it. Taking positions that belong to good Christian men.’

      ‘Truly, sir?’ Sandford looked down his nose. ‘Personally, some of my best friends are of the Catholic persuasion and are all able men and certainly Christian.’ Sandford’s gaze shifted to her. ‘What is your opinion on the issue, Lady Tess?’

      Tess tried to hide her surprise. He wanted her opinion? But the mocking curve to his lips gave him away. No doubt he wanted to make her say something she would regret.

      Stedman’s face darkened. He put up a hand to forestall her answer. ‘Lady Theresa thinks as her cousin thinks, I should suppose.’

      Rebellion rose inside her. ‘I think people should be judged by what they do rather than because of their religious leanings.’

      Mr Stedman looked so affronted that she wished she had held her tongue.