not too bad looking, able to provide well for her, and she rejected me out of hand. Given the cards I held, I could not fathom why mine was a losing hand.”
This was not the answer Della had sought, but it was still an interesting reply. “What was that like? Being rejected by the one person you thought to give your heart to?”
“Damned awful, pardon my language. Everything I’d strived for—wealth, standing, influence, the respect of my peers—crumbled to dust. I was so overwrought I nearly got drunk.”
“You nearly got drunk?” Della had not been raised with Jonathan, had not known of her connection to him for much of her childhood. He was still in some regards a mystery to her.
“I am not a teetotaler,” he said, “but as owner of the Coventry, I had to keep my wits about me. I learned to imbibe judiciously. One suggestion I conveyed to both Sycamore and Ash Dorning was that they do likewise as they took over the club.”
“How is the club faring?” she asked, joining him on the sofa.
“Quite well, I am both relieved and dismayed to report. Sycamore Dorning has a quality I lack, of charming and commiserating with the patrons, celebrating their wins, recalling which of them has a daughter to fire off or an auntie with gout. Ash has taken on the finances and management of the staff. He sees to the building proper, the inventories, and the collection of debts. He has a natural grasp of numbers, as I do. They are the epitome of the adage that two heads are better than one, and the club is profiting accordingly.”
The tea tray arrived, the clock advanced at the pace of a glacier in winter, and Della began to fret that Ash would stand her up.
“If Ash and Sycamore Dorning are such an effective team,” Della said, “why does Ash Dorning spend some of the winter at the family seat each year?”
Jonathan took an inordinate time stirring his tea, tasting it, and setting down his cup and saucer.“Homesickness, I suppose. London in winter is a dreary, smelly place, and Sycamore likes to travel in the summer. He’s taken to Paris like an apprentice seamstress turned loose in a mercer’s warehouse. Will you attend the Dickson’s Venetian breakfast on Monday?”
Two things had just happened. Jonathan had prevaricated regarding Ash Dorning’s winter journeys, and then he’d changed the subject. The little niggle of worry Della felt about Ash possibly forgetting their appointment acquired sharp edges. Was Ash well? Was he hiding a mistress and family in the shires? Was he too fond of the poppy or—
A knock on the door cut short her flight of imagination.
“Come in,” she said.
Ash strode through the door, resplendent in riding attire. “My lady, good day. Tresham, stop making a pig of yourself with the biscuits.”
Like a wave receding into the sea, Della’s anxiety eased. “Mr. Dorning, greetings. Will you share a cup of tea before we depart?”
“I’ll have a biscuit,” he said, taking the place beside Della on the sofa. “Tresh, what brings you here besides free food and the company of a lovely lady?”
Ash Dorning was so confident, so at ease with himself, and so blasted good-looking. Every time Della beheld him, she fell prey to yearning, and this occasion was no different.
“I came to congratulate Della on weathering the first volley,” Jonathan said. “You made a lovely couple for last night’s supper waltz.”
Ash popped a tea cake into his mouth. “Of course we did. That was the point, also entirely my pleasure. Now we will make a sedate circuit of the park, bold as you please, and doubtless encounter a few sniffy dowagers and malicious gossips. We will ignore them all, won’t we, my lady?”
When Ash Dorning smiled that conspiratorial, playful smile, Della could ignore the flames of hell burning beneath her feet.
“We will have a very pleasant time,” she said. “We might even go for an ice at Gunter’s, seeing as the weather is so mild.”
Ash tucked a tea cake into his pocket. “Excellent notion.”
Jonathan rose and bowed over Della’s hand. “Enjoy the fine weather while it lasts, then.” He nodded at Ash. “Winter will arrive all too soon. I’ll see myself out.”
Della finished her tea. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“‘Enjoy the fine weather…’ I know Tresham the least well of all my brothers, but he often acts the most obnoxiously fraternal.”
Ash rose and extended his hand to her. “He worries. It’s hard to worry for somebody and be