Patrick grinned with pride. “Quite a few, actually. I put them in my library at Wolford Abbey.” As if the mention of his ancestral home might ruin the magic of their conversation, he felt the need to explain himself. “I never meant to deceive you, Linley. The truth is that I wanted to escape my responsibilities for a while. With you, I could be Patrick Wolford. With everyone else, I’m ‘His Lordship this’ or ‘My Lord that’. I just wanted to be a regular chap for once.”
Patrick hoped she could forgive him. He knew if he were in her position, he’d feel cheated. If she didn’t forgive him, he’d certainly understand. But still, he could hope…
“Would you mind if we skipped the dance altogether and found a quiet spot in the drawing room next door?”
Linley thought for a moment what Berenice might say, and then pushed it out of her mind. She was not going to start changing her ways just because one old woman would think it improper behavior.
Patrick took her through two large double doors. Guests from the ballroom spilled into the elegant drawing room, marveling at the collection of fine art hanging on the walls. Footmen passed through with trays of champagne. Almost every giltwood chair was occupied by someone seeking to catch their breath from the excitement next door.
This was no place for quiet conversation. Searching for an alternative, he led her through another doorway, and into what looked to be a study. In the corner sat a chesterfield sofa. Patrick gestured for Linley to take a seat.
“This is much better,” he said, sinking down beside her. He was careful not to sit too close in case someone should discover their hiding place and assume the worst.
Linley smoothed her skirts and turned toward him. “I don’t think I care for balls very much. They aren’t nearly as fun as everyone makes them out to be.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Thank goodness I’ll only be here for a month,” she continued. “I’m not sure how many more of these I could stand.”
Patrick eased back against the arm of the sofa, allowing himself a better view of her shadowed features in the dim light of the room. “And where are you off to after this?”
“I don’t know. Papa hopes his knighthood will bring more attention to our work. More attention means more money, and we are sorely in need of funds. As it stands right now, we may be out of a job unless a considerable amount of money is raised.”
“So why not have a fundraiser?” he asked. “If the Robesons can do it for the National Portrait Gallery, I don’t see why you can’t do it on behalf of the British Museum.”
Linley thought for a moment. “To have a benefit we’d need somewhere to hold it. Cousin Berenice’s house is nowhere near large enough.”
“I would say you could have it at Kyre House, but the place has been shut up for years. I stay at my club whenever I’m in town.”
“That’s very kind of you to offer, all the same,” she said. “I will be sure to pass the idea along to my father. He may not have thought about a fundraising ball.”
“Do let me know if I can help. I should like to repay the kindness you showed me.”
Linley sat forward. “I showed you a kindness? When?”
In Morocco,” he answered. “I know the ‘bored young aristocrat’ bit sounds very cliché, but that is exactly what I was. You shook me up, Linley. For the first time in a long time, I saw the world as a fresh, exciting place ready to be explored.”
“I did all that?”
Patrick laughed. “All that and more. Let me do the same for you. Let me show you around London.”
“You know,” she said, mulling the idea over, “I still have not been to the British Museum...”
“Then you are long overdue. Let’s go tomorrow.”
Linley could hardly wait that long. She hoped for weeks that her father would take her, but with his busy schedule, he hadn’t found the time. If she kept waiting, she might never get to go.
Before she could answer, a group of young men and women flew into the room, spilling a bottle of champagne all over the carpet in the process. If Linley didn’t know better, she’d think they were drunk, but Berenice had assured her that no one ever helped themselves to more than one or two glasses in a night.
“Oh, bugger!” one of the young men said, stumbling. The unruly party didn’t seem to notice Linley and Patrick. They only stared at the carpet, which fizzled as the champagne soaked in.
From the doorway, someone turned the switch, filling the room with light. It was Gaynor, and she blinked for a few moments at the couple in the corner, seeing them for the first time. “Lord Kyre…” she cleared her throat. “And Miss Talbot-Martin.”
Every eye in the room turned in their direction, and Linley felt her face grow warm. She resisted the urge to look down at the floor or up at the ceiling, and instead focused on Patrick, praying he would say something.
Anything.
Other than Linley’s heartbeat, the only sound in the room came from the champagne sputtering between the threads of the carpet at their feet.
Gaynor stepped across the wet floor. “Kyre, don’t you think it’s a little soon to be corrupting our new friend?” she asked, reaching down and taking Linley by the hand. As the young woman led her to the doorway, she whispered in Linley’s ear. “You’re lucky it was only us who wandered in.”
With that, the door closed in Linley’s face.
***