“La Infanta, may I present Lord Finchdale and Mr. Allard Robeson,” Patrick said, completely straight-faced. “This, my dear chaps, is the Infanta de Nova.”
Linley blinked from the smiling faces of the young men, to Patrick’s mischievous one, and back to the young men again. “Hola!” she said, extending her hand. “Bueno conocerte!”
“It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” Finchdale said, taking her hand and kissing it.
Allard shoved his friend out of the way and kissed her hand next. “La Infanta!”
“Well,” Patrick said, trying to keep his composure. “This has been entertaining, but if you gentleman will excuse us, we would like to finish our meal.”
“Certainly, Kyre,” Finchdale said. “But only after I secure a dance from the Infanta. Would you do me the honor, Se?ora?”
Linley nodded. She would much rather dance with the gorgeous Allard Robeson, but Finchdale, with his red hair and bright smile, seemed like a nice enough consolation.
“Wonderful!” Finchdale said. “I will search you out after dinner!”
After the two gentleman walked away, Patrick and Linley burst into laughter.
“I cannot believe you did that!” Linley said, reaching for her glass.
Patrick shrugged. “I hate the both of them.”
“Really?” she asked, taking a long sip of champagne.
“Finchdale is a clod, and Robeson thinks every woman in London is bursting at the seams to go to bed with him.”
“Aren’t they?”
At that, Patrick arched his dark eyebrows. “Oh, I see.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Patrick. I don’t want to sleep with him, I just think he’s good looking.”
“You wouldn’t even think about it? If he asked?”
Linley shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m sorry I ever brought it up.”
“Why can’t you answer the question? Would you or would you not go to bed with Allard Robeson if he offered?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Are you quite certain?” Patrick leaned across the table. “I could talk to him…”
Linley slammed her palms down on the white tablecloth. “Stop it!”
Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. With shaking hands, Linley grabbed her glass and gulped down the rest of the champagne. They sat in silence for a long time.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he finally asked.
“No.”
“Would you like some dessert then? Because I think I do.”
“Fine.”
When the waiter came, Patrick ordered bombe favorite. Linley picked at a dish of fresh peaches. Neither spoke to the other.
Afterward, Patrick paid the bill and led Linley through the maze of circular tables full of well-dressed patrons laughing and enjoying their lavish meals. Again, it seemed as if everyone turned their eyes to watch the young pair pass by. Patrick nodded and smiled at a few of them. Linley tried to seem as blasé as possible.
In the lobby, he fetched their coats and his hat, and then stepped through the hotel doors and out onto the pavement. Linley followed him, stopping at his side as they waited for his automobile.
“Please don’t take me home,” she said.
Without looking at her, Patrick answered, “I wasn’t planning on it.”
The motorcar pulled up to the kerb, and Patrick’s driver went around to open the door. Linley climbed into the rear seat with Patrick a step or two behind her.
“Where are we going?” she asked him.
“I don’t know.” He situated himself on the tufted leather seat beside her. Leaning forward, he told the chauffeur, “Just drive.”
They drove along Brook Street. Linley stared out the window at the other motors and buildings they passed. Patrick watched her expressionless face as the lights from outside fell across her features.
He cleared his throat and whispered, “I’m jealous of Allard Robeson.”
Linley’s head snapped around. “What?”
“I am,” he said. “Only I’ve just realized it.”
“Would you please just drop it,” she said, turning back to the window.
They turned from Brook Street onto Bond Street. Patrick leaned forward and told the chauffeur, “Drive us to Park Lane, please.”
The drive to Park Lane did not take long, but Linley felt it dragged on endlessly. She didn’t really know where Park Lane even was. The streets looked the same to her, and she was certain if she had to, she could never find her way back to Bedford Square.
“Where are we?”
“Near Hyde Park,” Patrick answered.
As they turned onto Park Lane, Linley could see the great green behemoth that was Hyde Park. On one side lay the park, and on the other stood an endless row of the largest homes she ever saw.
“Would you like to go to a party?” he asked her.
Still studying the houses, Linley nodded.
“To Markham House,” Patrick told his driver.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The motorcar pulled up to an enormous four-story mansion, lit up so brightly that it flooded the pavement with warm yellow light. A fleet of automobiles lined both sides of the street and a large group of people spilled from the front door. The driver let Patrick and Linley out at the kerb.