The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,82
clung to—such as the foolishly persistent belief that she might actually care for him a little—had been shattered by the letters he’d read last night.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Ria.”
She smiled, visibly gratified by his words. “I had begun to believe that you no longer liked me very much, Jago.”
He didn’t like her. Indeed, it was now safe to say that he actively disliked and mistrusted her. But the way to get bees was not with vinegar.
“Nonsense, my dear. I’m afraid I’ve been distracted since my return.”
“Ah, yes. I take it the estate is in some disrepair.” Her lips tightened and Jago fancied it was to keep a smile from forming.
“I am slowly getting matters under control.”
“That is what Ben said. What an exceptional young man he must be—such a broad array of talents for such a youthful … boy.”
Jago studied her beautiful face for any sign that she might have guessed Benna’s secret—not that he had much faith in being able to read something in Ria’s expression if she wished to conceal it. He was no fool; when it came to deception, she was far more adept at obfuscation than he would ever be.
“Ben has indeed been helpful.” He paused and then added, “It was kind of you to add him to your guest list.”
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of inviting him before. But I am given to understand that, as your secretary, such an invitation is unexceptionable. After all, he takes dinner with your family and guests.”
Jago smiled. “How well-informed you are about what goes on in my household, Ria.”
Her face creased into an expression of displeasure at his obvious amusement. “I haven’t been gossiping with servants, dear Jago, if that is what you are thinking.”
“I would never think such a thing.”
She colored at whatever she saw on his face—likely disbelief, which is what he was feeling—and her full lips thinned. “Mariah mentioned it when I encountered your nieces with Mrs. Worth at the modiste’s in Redruth.”
“I see.”
“I actually came here on another matter and extending an invitation to Ben was merely an excuse to wait for your return.”
“How may I be of service, Ria?”
“It’s about Lord Fenwick.”
“What about him?”
“I know I’ve been a bit naughty to tease you with him.” She paused, as if waiting for Jago to confirm her words.
“Yes, you’ve been wicked,” he agreed, sure that statement would cover a variety of sins, not only the one she was unsubtly hinting at.
“He is not—that is to say, I view him in the manner of a younger sibling. A brother I never had,” she added.
“Ah.” Jago waited for the rest of it.
“Perhaps you did not know it as you’ve been away, but his older brother died perhaps six or seven years ago. Poor Fenwick is like you in that he has unexpectedly had the mantle of heir thrust upon him.” She hesitated and added. “And his elder brother and father certainly played ducks and drakes with their estate.”
“I see,” Jago said, hoping that was the only characteristic that he shared with Fenwick, whom he’d found more than a little odious from his brief exposure to the man. Hearing that the viscount’s family fortune was much diminished explained why Fenwick was dangling after a woman that his father—the profligate, but notoriously high in the instep, Marquess of Devoran—was unlikely to approve of.
“How is it that you became acquainted with Fenwick?” he asked.
“My husband and I first met him at one of the Earl of Trentham’s parties in London.”
Even as removed as Jago was from ton gossip he’d heard about the infamous parties. He wasn’t sure what Elinor knew about her dead husband’s London bashes, but her current husband, Stephen, had told Jago enough about Trentham’s proclivities for buying virgins, engaging in orgies, and experimenting with illicit substances to leave him with a deep disgust of the deceased earl.
And Ria had attended such parties? And enjoyed them?
“I’ve heard those affairs were rather … unusual,” he said.
“Oh yes, quite unusual. And delicious.” She moistened her full lips and smiled fondly, the concupiscent gleam in her eyes making his stomach churn. “I didn’t dare hope that you held such sophisticated tastes, Jago.”
“And that is where you met Fenwick?” he asked, ignoring her subtle probing.
“Yes. This was some time ago, before he became the heir. He was far too young to be a part of Trentham’s set, but he came as the guest of the Earl of Norland. Of course, Norland was plain Michael de Montfort back then.”