Page 40 of A Game of Scandal

Izzy had been notably absent. In our snatched conversations when we crossed paths in the house, she told me that they were still trying to find out who had sent the bomb to the Aviary, and that Laing remained under surveillance. She was worried about his appearance at the Wellerbys’ ball, but after three days with no repercussions, she cautiously accepted that I hadn’t been recognized.

No one was sure what his next move would be – particularly in light of his poker losses. I could tell she was frustrated by the lack of progress, and also she was worried that Max still hadn’t returned home. He wasn’t usually away for so long.

I tried not to care too much that I was once again largely in the dark about their lives. I’d done my job for the Aviary. It wasn’t my concern any longer what happened.

“Don’t you agree?” Mr Trent broke through my musings and I glanced up to find him looking at me expectantly.

“Oh … yes?” I managed, and, from the pleased expression on his face, I supposed it had been the right answer.

When I caught Mother staring at us again, I tried, only for a moment, to imagine some kind of spark, some kind of romantic potential between Mr Trent and myself.

Impossible.

Instead, the memory of strong arms wrapped around my waist reared up again as it had so many times over the past few days. It had been the best part of a week and it felt as though my body was still tingling from Ash’s kiss. Had Izzy been a moment later arriving at the Wellerbys’ I knew that the performance would have been repeated. It was fascinating, the way I thought about him so often, the way I craved his touch—

“Excuse me, Mr Trent.” A familiar voice broke in from over my shoulder, and I dropped my teaspoon against my saucer with a startling clatter. “Your mother has requested your company.”

“Ah!” Mr Trent’s already pink face grew even more heated. “Yes, of course, poor Mama – excuse me.”

Tripping over himself and murmuring his goodbyes, Mr Trent departed.

“Alone at last, Lady Felicity,” the voice said again.

I took a deep breath, then turned in my seat and looked up into the face of the last man I had expected to see.

Edward Laing.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Mr Laing,” I said, automatically falling back on the rules of polite conversation. “We met at the Wellerbys’, didn’t we? How nice to see you again.” I hoped I wasn’t showing any of the nerves I felt.

Laing smiled at me, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Come now, Lady Felicity,” he said, dropping gracefully into the seat beside me. “I think it’s time to do away with pretence, as fun as it has been. I believe you know me to be no slow top, just as I know the brilliance of your own mind. Mrs Williams.”

My heart lurched when his smile only widened. The smile of a cat, toying with a mouse, perhaps. I knew I’d been foolish, hoping a scrap of gold lace would conceal my identity, but I wasn’t sure what game we were playing now. However polite Laing may appear, however innocuous our surroundings, Izzy was certain the man was dangerous.

I sat in silence for a moment, considering the best course of action. As far as I was aware, he knew nothing of the Aviary or my connection to them, only that I’d infiltrated the gambling den under a false name. Laing seemed not to mind the quiet; if anything the look he gave me was approving, as if he could see that I was weighing and measuring all the likely outcomes. He brushed an invisible mark from his immaculate suit and waited patiently.

“It seems there’s little point in dissembling,” I said finally. “Though sneaking out to play draw poker can hardly be considered an acceptable activity for a young lady. I hope I can count on your discretion, Mr Laing?”

His smile returned, and again it felt as though my answer pleased him. “Oh, you have nothing to worry about there,” he assured me. “I know how to keep a secret. It seems a crime to keep a mind like yours caged up only because of society’s silly rules.”

“It can be … difficult,” I agreed cautiously.

“I can imagine how tedious this sort of business must be for you.” He scanned the crowd milling in front of us, and I caught disdain in his tone. “Not a soul here on your intellectual level, and yet they treat you like some fragile bloom to be admired only for her looks.”

“I— Yes,” I said, startled.

“Please don’t mistake me,” he said, his expression mischievous. “You’re a lovely young woman, Lady Felicity, but, of course, I know that you’re so much more than a beautiful face.”

I was suddenly aware of how close he was, the two of us sitting on this small sofa. There was real understanding in his voice. I wondered again if Izzy had made a mistake. Could this sympathetic man really be the ruthless villain she took him for?

“You’re too kind,” I murmured, trying to cover my confusion.

“Oh, no.” He moved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “No need for that bland politeness, I beg you! I’d much rather talk about the poker game.” His tone was boyish, eager, his enthusiasm infectious. “Tell me, have you been playing for long?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Not terribly long,” I said, “but I must admit I found it fascinating.”

Though his posture remained casual, something came into his eyes then, as if he were anticipating what was to come next.