“The whole thing is downright depressing.” Lockington heaved a sigh. “I thought that Covent Guard fellow was cleaning up the area.”
“Covent Guard?” Greg echoed.
“Some masked fellow,” Lockington explained and shook his head as though the idea was ludicrous. “Been spotted around Covent Garden the last while, throwing daggers at would-be-thieves.”
A masked fellow throwing daggers at would-be-thieves? What the devil? Greg blinked at his one-time-schoolmate. The man did appear to be serious. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll avoid the theatre while I’m in Town.”
“What does bring you to Town, old man?” Lockington asked.
Greg glanced across the room where it appeared Bella had been set upon by her brother. She flashed Greg an apologetic expression, though whether she was sorry she was stuck with her brother or sorry Greg had been waylaid by Sarsden and Lockington he had no idea. Actually, why were Sarsden and Lockington even there? This was just supposed to be a Winslett family gathering. Were they relations of hers? And if so, was it by blood or by marriage? Had to be the latter, neither of the men shared even a passing resemblance to his pretend fiancée. His gaze drifted back to the beautiful brunette. Damn it all, a man could get lost just looking at her.
“Avery?” Lockington said, bringing Greg back to the present.
“Apologies,” Greg replied. “What was that again?”
“I asked what brought you to Town.”
Oh, yes. He had asked that, hadn’t he? “My sister asked me to attend the season this year.” That was one of the more truthful answers he’d be able to give this evening.
“So we have Lady Clayworth to thank for your presence?” boomed an unhappy voice behind Greg.
“Your Grace!” Sarsden said quickly as Lockington’s eyes rounded in what looked like panic.
Chatham. After that afternoon, Greg would know the duke’s voice anywhere.
He glanced over his shoulder to find His Grace glaring quite pointedly at him. What a bloody perfect evening this was turning out to be. Dinner here, a ball at the Kelfields. It was a very good thing that as a betrothed man, he wouldn’t be required to attend societal functions. After tonight, he could hide in his study or library without having to explain himself for weeks.
Greg nodded tightly in greeting the duke. “Evening, Your Grace.”
“Shouldn’t you two be entertaining my granddaughters?” he said to the other fellows, who quickly turned tail and rejoined a pair of brunettes not far away. Then he leveled Greg with a look that would probably intimidate most men.
If Greg had truly been seeking Bella’s hand, Chatham’s look probably would have intimidated him; but as it was, he didn’t have to worry about spending the rest of his days as the duke’s relation, and there was a bit of freedom in that. “You wanted a word with me?” he guessed aloud.
Chatham’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. “I’m not a fool, Avery. I know something strange is going on, and when I figure out what it is, you’ll answer to me.”
“Something to look forward to, then,” Greg replied dryly. “Do excuse me, I believe my betrothed is waiting for me.”
* * *
“Just a bit,” Elliott pleaded. “You know I’m good for it, Bella.”
If her brother was good for it, he wouldn’t be asking her for her pin money, not that she even had it to give. “I purchased new oil paints last week. I don’t have anything left.” And she wouldn’t have a farthing more for another sennight.
With a dejected frown, Elliott looked out amongst the sea of people that were their relations. “I don’t suppose you could ask Father for a few pounds to tide you over, could you?”
He meant to tide him over. After all, there was nothing Bella needed to spend any money on, and she could easily wait until Papa replenished her funds. But Elliott was her brother and she did love him. As she was about to say that she would see what she could do, her brother’s eyes narrowed as though someone approached from behind her. Bella glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t help but smile at Gregory Avery. Honestly, he seemed more dashing and handsome each time she saw him, the way his dark jacket stretched across the expanse of his shoulders, the very hint of a dimple in his cheek, the soft twinkle in his eyes. She managed to keep from sighing, but just barely.
“Greg,” she breathed out as he reached her side and his hand landed on the small of her back, making a delicious shiver ripple across her skin.
“Who’s this fellow?” Elliott muttered.
“Don’t remember me, hmm?” Greg asked.
Elliott just stared blankly.
Bella heaved a sigh and quickly introduced them. “Elliott, this is Lord Avery. Greg, my brother Gillingham.”
“Avery?” Elliott echoed. “Went to school with a Tristan Avery.”