Chapter 18

Rolland handed Theresia up into the barouche, the second in a line of carriages, fully expecting her to take the open side across from Mr. Hawke while he handed up Miss Yearsley. Theresia had other ideas. Instead of taking the forward-facing seat, she sat directly beside Mr. Hawke and gave him a friendly smile. Too friendly, if you asked Rolland. Mr. Hawke didn't even have the manners to insist she take her proper seat. Was this Theresia's way of seeking retribution after Rolland's careless remark about courtship? It was her fault—her presence—that had caused the word to slip from his mouth. He'd meant for her to enjoy herself, if possible, but it had come out all wrong. It was a good thing she'd misinterpreted him and thought he'd meant she should flirt with other guests besides him, but it might kill him if she actually attempted it.

He frowned deeply and climbed inside, taking his own seat beside Miss Yearsley. From there, all his plans went south. Miss Yearsley commanded his full attention, and Theresia was left to fend for herself with Mr. Hawke. The carriage bounced, and Mr. Hawke's knee bumped Theresia's. Rolland almost leaped across the carriage to push the man back.

What had gotten into him? He was no love-sodden fop. He had a traitor to catch. Ever since he had indulged in their whispered conversation in the library, he couldn't get Theresia's sweet smell out of his head—lilies or jasmine or something similar. He'd never been good at identifying any scent but the sea. Whatever it was, it was wonderful, and even the memory of it impaired his judgment.

"Tell me about the sea, Captain." Miss Yearsley spread her arm out over the edge of the open carriage, relaxing back against it and giving him a coquettish look. "I've never been fond of traveling to the Continent, for England has all the comforts I need, but I can see how you'd like the thrill of racing through a squall or the satisfaction of killing off the enemy."

He bit his tongue, glancing at the heads of the ryegrass on the side of the road waving at him to hold his peace. A response needed to be given, but not at the sake of causing offense. "I cannot say I found any satisfaction in killing anyone, Miss Yearsley. My time at sea was not for entertainment but to protect my country and my family."

Miss Yearsley laughed. "Are you always so serious? Come now, Captain. The war is over, and you can spend the rest of your life at leisure. I, for one, cannot abide any talk of it."

Theresia interjected. "Forgive me for interrupting, Miss Yearsley. The proximity made it impossible not to overhear. But did you not bring up the war yourself?"

Miss Yearsley laughed again. "I did, didn't I? Don't mind me. I have one goal in life, and that is to be as merry as I can."

Rolland met Theresia's gaze, amused by her pointed brow. Where Miss Yearsley was pretty enough with a pert nose and too many curls, Theresia was a beauty in a class of her own. Her natural elegance, astute perception, and quiet maturity did her a great favor. Yes, she was also impulsive, privately outspoken, tested his patience, and made him question things he'd never questioned, but in comparison to Miss Yearsley, it was obvious who his choice would be.

He stilled. If he were making a choice, which he was not.

No, it was Miss Shields for him, and he would do well to remember it.

"I like your spirit," Mr. Hawke said to Miss Yearsley. "A life of leisure or no life at all." He raised an imaginary glass to her.

Miss Yearsley was unimpressed by Mr. Hawke for one reason or another, and her smile drooped. "Something like that, yes."

When the stately storefronts lined together with a cobblestone road greeted them out the side of their carriage, Rolland was all too happy to descend. He'd never been good at small talk, let alone had much endurance for personalities like the one Miss Yearsley possessed. This house party might be the longest month of his life.

Fortunately for him, after he handed Miss Yearsley out, she hurried toward Lewis, whose carriage had arrived only moments before theirs. He put his hand up to assist Theresia next and tucked her hand possessively around his arm. The least he could do was spare her from having to endure Mr. Hawke's mindless conversation for the entirety of their shopping trip. He guided her a few feet back from the others under the shade of an oak tree while the occupants of Marcus's carriage descended from their carriage.

"I don't think you have to worry about Miss Yearsley or Mr. Hawke," Theresia said under her breath.

Rolland almost missed it. "Oh?"

She gave the smallest shake of her head. "I could wager a guess as to what counties of England they were raised in based on their subtle accents."

"And?"

He could sense she had more to say. "And unless one of them speaks French for me, I am beginning to think my abilities are useless to you."

"Do not discount yourself yet. All it takes is one slipup, and one of us is bound to catch it."

She sighed. "Beyond my apparent inadequacy, I don't think either Mr. Hawke or Miss Yearsley is intelligent enough to be a villain, nor does either of them have the tenacity to accomplish such a feat as..." She cleared her throat. "You know."

He appreciated her attempt at discretion and was fully capable of reading between the lines. He tugged her gently to a storefront window a few feet farther away. "I had similar thoughts earlier on."

She glanced at the others before ending at him. "But?"

"But a good liar is capable of making you believe what they want you to believe. Miss Yearsley might come across as indifferent, but only an intelligent woman would surround herself with such powerful people and then pretend to be exactly what she isn't."

Theresia paled and gripped his arm. "Then, that was all an act?" She quickly lowered her voice, having spoken too loudly. "She certainly had me convinced."

Her naivety did her credit. He valued her observations, but he would rather have her disillusioned to evil than immune to it. "Remember, all of us are playing a part here."

She glanced down at the arm she held and slowly released her grip. "Yes, it would be good for me to remember." She took a step back against the window, putting distance between them.

He frowned, reading into her response, but said nothing. She was right to distance herself; it was what he should do.

A moment later Marcus and Her Grace joined them, followed by Cadogen and his wife.

Lady Cadogen linked her arm through Theresia's. "Lady Glass, I do think you are in need of a new bonnet and another pair of gloves. Shall Her Grace and I steal you away for some shopping?"

Theresia glanced at Rolland, her eyes seeking his permission. They were not married, so the action surprised him, but he gave her a quick nod anyway. Her smile grew. The idea of being with the two ladies brought her real joy. Based on her story about the seminary ladies' treatment of her, he guessed she had few friends. He hoped her time with Lady Cadogen and the duchess would make the house party more tolerable for her. They might be titled women of the ton , but their unique personal histories had gifted them with true humility. They would be kind to Theresia; he was certain of it.

Rolland felt two pairs of eyes studying him. He looked up at his friends. "What?"

"Curious is all." Cadogen folded his arms across his black coat.

Rolland still hadn't accustomed himself to seeing his friend without his mask. His keen blue eyes seemed larger somehow. "About what?"

"Lady Glass and the real reason she came to this house party of secrets."

"She has her reasons for being here, and that will have to suffice." Rolland would say no more out of respect to her, not even to his most trusted friends.

"And none of them have to do with you?"

"Not a one." Rolland shifted his weight to his other leg. Cadogen's eyes were far too discerning.

"I haven't any reason to be disappointed in you, Rolland, so don't change my opinion of you." Cadogen stared him down, like only the former Masked Baron could. "If she doesn't have you as a reason for being here, then stop wasting your time, and give her one."

Rolland scoffed. "You're late to the party, so you are unaware that I am practically an engaged man—to someone else." The news he'd attempted to delay sharing spilled out of his mouth before he could take it back.

Marcus frowned. "I was waiting for you to tell us. Lord Barrack mentioned Miss Shields. I wasn't certain you'd agreed. Have you even met her?"

Rolland set his mouth. "The cause is what matters."

Cadogen disagreed with a decisive toss of his head. "It's your choice of course, but..." His voice trailed off.

Cadogen gave his opinion decisively, so his hesitation lured Rolland in. He raised his brow. "Tell me."

Cadogen glanced over his shoulder, taking in the streets and people in one sweep. "I observed something last night, but I'm no matchmaker, and I don't aspire to be one. You'll have to figure it out on your own, Rolland. Just don't disappoint me."

If anyone else would've said the same thing, Rolland would've been entirely irritated. Cadogen, on the other hand, had a way of drawing a person in with his words and making them question all their life choices.

"No pressure, Rolland." Marcus chuckled. "Wars and toiling for our bread might humble and give us character, but it's love that makes men out of us. I agree with Cadogen; you need to figure this out the hard way, the same as we did."

Cadogen inclined his head. "No journey is more fraught or more worthwhile. The struggle will do you good."

"Love? Struggle?" Rolland grimaced. "What happened to you both while I was away at sea? There is nothing of that sort between Ther—Lady Glass and me."

"What is or isn't between you and Lady Glass?"

Rolland whirled around to find his father standing there. He squirmed like a child shying away from telling the truth, when in all actuality, he had no reason to be flustered. No reason except for Miss Shields and the invisible hold she had on him. "Father." He cleared his throat. "Did you just arrive, then?"

"Yes, in the last carriage." From several feet away his mother called out to his father, waving him over to join her conversation with the Havershams. "Your mother needs me, but we will talk later."

Rolland watched him walk away, but the short moment in his father's presence had filled him with unease. He and his friends shouldn't be talking about romance when his father's life was at stake. Rolland kept losing his focus. And, worse, his friends were starting to notice. They were imagining more to his relationship with Theresia than there really was. Rolland had no desire to fail anyone—her included—but that hardly meant he was in love with her.