husband that she had no invitation, that it had all been pretense, but instead she held strong.
She need not have feared. The porter gestured them in, the butler waved them towards the party without question. If the Marquess of Wimberley was here, then he belonged here.
Huisman’s strode up to them as they entered.
Before he could comment Marguerite spoke quickly, “It was wonderful of you to invite me. I have been practicing, but fear I am no match for a man of your skill. I hope it is no difficulty that my husband has accompanied me.”
Huismans measured her with his glance. She could feel the questions he did not ask. “Of course, I am delighted by your company. I am sure we have much to discuss.” His words addressed Marguerite, but his glance had turned to Tristan. “If the numbers are uneven we will take turns sitting out – a true gentleman does not mind letting someone else do the work.” He gave a small laugh, almost a titter. “It is of course the purpose of men such as myself – the merchant class.”
Tristan made no response beyond a proper greeting and gestured to Marguerite to precede them into the room. There were no chairs available at the card tables. She gulped as she spied Landgon, Simon, and another young gentleman seated at a table with Simon’s mother. Lady Harburton did not look pleased to see her. She turned back to her son.
Tristan looked amused at the lack of remaining seats and with the smallest quirk of his mouth he indicated she should take a seat on the couch. He followed and stood beside her.
“The tables look set for whist, not piquet,” he said.
“Perhaps I misunderstood, or perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps?”
“Perhaps I was looking for a game only for two.” She felt heat begin to rise. She stared with force at the tulips on the mantle. They shone a polished black, not a deep purple, but a true black. She started to try to think of other objects that color, coal, polished boots, ebony – If she thought hard enough she would not blush. She could pretend a sophistication she did not feel – continue the verbal joust at which her husband was so accomplished.
“You are admiring my flowers, Lady Wimberley?” Huismans moved up beside her. Another gentleman, one she did not recognize had engaged Tristan in conversation.
She looked at the flowers again. “They are very interesting.” And very ugly.
“Yes, they are quite rare. My grower at home has only managed a handful of bulbs. I give them only to my dearest friends. A hundred years ago there were rumors in my land of single bulbs worth more than a great house. That was nonsense and caused a scandal, but these bulbs . . .” he let the sentence trail off.
“I have always liked flowers.” That was true at least. Marguerite slid closer to Tristan. If she moved her leg their calves would touch. She moved. Tristan’s body twitched. Did he feel the same bolt of lightening that she did at their slightest contact? She wished she dared move even more and find out.
“Yes, flowers are a delight. Objects of great beauty should always surround a woman. Don’t you agree?” Huismans lowered his voice as if to impart a great secret.
Marguerite flipped her skirt over her slipper. She lifted her leg slightly so that her toe rested against Tristan’s ankle just above the shoe. She raised and lowered her toe against the back of his stocking. He straightened, but made no acknowledgement.
“I asked what you think of beautiful things.” Huismans sat beside her on the settee.
“Beautiful things are very nice.” She turned towards Huismans and tried to look interested. At least the conversation was not demanding. She rubbed her toe against Tristan again. Actions were so much easier than words.
Huismans moved closer, his leg brushing the edge of her skirt. “I am glad that you feel that way. I enjoy giving objects of beauty to women of matching stature.” He laid his hand on the couch next to her own so that only the tips of their fingers brushed. Marguerite shifted nearer to the edge of the couch, and her husband.
“It would not be proper for me to accept gifts.” Gads, she hoped that sounded polite. She was in the man’s house and she had never heard anything impolite about him.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything like that.” He withdrew his hand. “I was merely thinking of a small corsage, a bouquet