After giving Rourke a look of warning, Anabelle hurried toward the house and disappeared inside.
Disappointed that he would not see Elizabeth tonight, Rourke backed away, keeping to the shadows. When he rounded the stables, he noticed light streaming from the dining room windows. If the family was still eating at this hour, they must be entertaining. Elizabeth’s aunt had said they needed to prepare something or other. Perhaps he might catch a glimpse of the lovely Elizabeth.
He walked around the block until he approached the front of the house. Earlier that day he had stood on the porch outside the dining room. Now the windows were opened wide to usher in the cooling breezes, and five sat at the table. Elizabeth’s brother and aunt had their backs to him and effectively blocked his view of her.
Was she still wearing his oleander?
He slipped through the gate and circled around to the side of the house. Through that window he could see her sitting alongside that dandified clerk from her father’s office. She was dressed in the same black gown she’d worn earlier. This supper must not be special. A black cap hid most of her golden hair, yet she still took his breath away. Her head was bowed, and she periodically raised a napkin to her lips. If she still wore the oleander bloom, it must be tucked in her cap on the opposite side.
The dandy gestured with his hands, his head bobbing as he talked.
Something the man said drew Elizabeth’s attention. She turned her head and smiled at him.
She might as well have thrust a cutlass into Rourke’s heart. Her smile encouraged the dandy, who looked at her with a proprietary gleam. Rourke instinctively balled his fists. Such a man might serve Charles Benjamin’s plans, but he could never please a woman like Elizabeth.
The croak of an egret ripped his gaze from the window.
Anabelle was warning him.
He stepped back into the shadow of the buttonwoods. As he did, he noticed a spot of pink on the ground in the light cast from the window. The oleander bloom had been discarded and trampled.
Before Elizabeth could dig into the rich custard, Father rose.
“I am exhausted after a long day in court.” He set his napkin on the table. “Please excuse me. Mr. Finch, I suggest taking in the cool evening breezes on the veranda. I’m sure Elizabeth will be glad to join you.” His look was pointed. He expected her to entertain Percival Finch alone, or nearly alone, for Aunt Virginia was sure to lurk near an open window.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “But I thought you had business with Mr. Finch.”
Father waved off her concern. “Nothing that can’t wait until morning.” He bowed slightly. “Good evening, Mr. Finch. Nathan!”
The groom appeared.
“Please take Master Charles to his room.”
“But I haven’t finished dessert,” Charlie protested.
Father’s tone softened. “You may take it with you. I will follow. Perhaps we can discuss some of my current cases.”
That mollified Charlie, though he cast Elizabeth a sympathetic look. Apparently their elders had conspired in this matter, for Aunt Virginia did not raise a single objection.
Though Finch dug into the custard with relish, Elizabeth stared at hers. How could she wriggle out of this? She picked at the custard, spooning off the rich caramel and nibbling at the pale interior. Father had made his intentions perfectly clear. She was expected to entertain Mr. Finch. When Aunt Virginia yawned and suggested they retire to the parlor, Finch seized the bait.
“Do let us.” He hopped up to assist Aunt Virginia first.
Elizabeth would not wait for his return. Instead she pushed out her chair, drawing a scowl from her aunt.
“It is rather warm tonight.” Finch offered Elizabeth his arm. “Your father’s idea sounds splendid. Would you care to join us, Miss Dobbins?”
Naturally Aunt did not, instead retiring to the parlor with its floor-length windows opening on the veranda. Ah yes, Father’s plan had worked to perfection thus far, but it could not proceed in the direction that Elizabeth suspected Finch would try to go.
“Would you care to rest, Miss Elizabeth?” The man gestured to the very chair she had sat in this morning before Rourke gave her the oleander.
“All I have done is rest. If I sit one minute more, I shall scream.” She strode to the railing.
“What a fine sense of humor you have developed.” Finch joined her. “I don’t recall such wit in our encounters in Charleston. Where did you acquire it?”
The man’s empty compliments did not impress her. “I found it the only means to endure the endless flatteries of would-be suitors.” Society would consider that response rude. That was Elizabeth’s aim. If Mr. Finch found her repulsive, perhaps he would leave.