Page 25 of Unmasking the Diamond
Charlotte smothered a groan. Not those two buffoons again. But diamonds could not groan, nor complain. She forced a smile, slipping the incriminating notes into the desk drawer before rising. “Please send them in.”
A moment later, the pair entered, bowing with exaggerated flourish.
“You are looking lovely, Miss Winslow,” Lord Amner began.
“Yes, quite lovely,” Mr. Trotter echoed. “Would you take a turn about the room with me?”
“I was going to ask her that first, you arse,” Lord Amner muttered under his breath.
Charlotte fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.Dear heavens, must they squabble like schoolboys?
“I believe I arrived first,” Lord Amner said loftily.
“You are merely slow in speech,” Mr. Trotter taunted.
Jane interrupted. “Gentlemen, there will be no tours today. You are welcome to join us for tea.”
Mr. Trotter’s expression fell, disappointment flickering across his face before he composed himself with a stiff smile.“Very well,” he murmured, stepping towards the settees as though he were approaching the gallows.
Charlotte glided across the carpet to sit beside Jane, grateful for the anchor of her sister-in-law’s steady presence. Mr. Trotter lowered himself onto the opposite seat with the weight of a man already wounded, while Lord Amner hesitated before settling beside him, the reluctance in his posture almost comical. Neither gentleman looked particularly pleased with the other, and Charlotte braced herself for the inevitable clash.
Reaching for the teapot, she felt both sets of eyes upon her. Mr. Trotter cleared his throat. “Have you been enjoying the Season thus far?”
“I have,” Charlotte replied, her hand steady as she poured four cups of tea.
“You pour remarkably well,” Lord Amner remarked, his tone as solemn as if he were praising the artistry of Raphael.
Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of all the compliments in the world, he chose that? Still, she summoned a polite smile. “Thank you.”
“Do you enjoy music?” Lord Amner pressed, leaning towards her. “Do you play the pianoforte or sing?”
She distributed the cups, deliberately careful not to brush against either man’s gloved fingers. She had no intention of encouraging either of these men. “I do enjoy music, and I can sing and play pianoforte, my lord.”
“I hope I can witness that soon enough,” he replied, sipping his tea as though sealing the promise.
Mr. Trotter seized the opening. “Do you ride, Miss Winslow? Hyde Park is so lively this time of year.”
“I do ride,” she said, “though most often with my brother.”
“I have been told I am an excellent riding partner,” Mr. Trotter declared with the air of one bestowing a rare treasure.
Lord Amner smirked over the rim of his cup. “By whom—your mother?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened a fraction, but she quickly dropped her gaze to her saucer, hiding the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape.
Mr. Trotter stiffened. “My mother and I do ride together, yes, but only because I am a dutiful son.”
“A dutiful son,” Lord Amner echoed, his words edged with mockery. “Is that what you call it?”
Mr. Trotter’s voice sharpened. “Our close bond is not inappropriate, if that is what you are suggesting.”
“I implied no such thing,” Lord Amner countered. He set his cup down with a decisive click. “But I must say, you are being overly sensitive. And it is not a good look.”
Mr. Trotter’s eyes narrowed. “You are a pompous?—”
“Gentlemen!” Jane’s voice rang out. “Please remember yourselves and where you are.”
Lord Amner looked chastened, though only just. Mr. Trotter, however, lifted his chin in defiance. “I have had enough of Lord Amner’s company for one day. Good afternoon.” With a bow that barely brushed the line of civility, he strode from the room.
