“Oh, you know about Paris.”
“Am I not supposed to? We lived there together. Toured the Continent together. Did you try to hide it?”
“I never spoke of it.”
Grayson shrugged. “And I never speak of my frequent attempts to sire a child with your sister, but you’re still aware it’s happening.”
“Bloody hell, man! I try not to be aware it’s happening!”
Grayson shrugged again. “My point is we may not talk of certain topics, but that does not mean we do not see. Your very first design keeps that French company afloat and built your own fortune. You grew up in a cotton factory. It seems natural you would remain in the textiles industry. Why be so secretive about it?”
Tobias studied his friend’s face, animated and insistent. Grayson didn’t seem to be in disbelief. He didn’t seem to think Tobias’s plans amusing. He accepted them with a natural interest that made Tobias feel sticky, uncomfortable. He’d not trusted this man, his friend, to take him seriously. Yet he did. Perhaps Henrietta would react the same way. “I don’t deserve your friendship, Gray.”
“I’m aware of that.”
The door between the two men opened and a young blond girl rushed through backward, waving. “I must get home before the luncheon starts! Good day, Aunt Lola! Bye, Willow, Henrietta! It was lovely to meet you, Maggie!” The girl turned and scampered down the steps and to the street, a maid popping out of some hidden door or gate and hastening after her.
A red-haired woman appeared in the door frame, smiling fondly. “A true hoyden, that one.” Her head swung to the left, then to the right, taking in Grayson’s and Tobias’s lounging forms. “Rigsby,” she said with a nod to Grayson. “Introduce me to your companion?” She swept a glance at Tobias as three women, Maggie and Henrietta included, tumbled into the sunshine.
Maggie’s eyes widened when she saw Tobias. “Oh! You’re here!” Her smile flattened into a frown. “Why are you here?”
“To gather you up and put you in my pocket,” Tobias replied.
The redhead narrowed her gaze. “Is this the famous Mr. Blake, then? In such austere colors, I never would have guessed.”
Tobias bowed. “The next time we meet, I’ll be sure to wear my finest.”
“Make sure you do.”
Henrietta pecked her husband on the cheek and turned to Tobias. “This is the Countess of Beckingham, our gracious hostess and fearless leader. And this”—she swept her hand to Tobias and smiled at the countess—“is my brother, as you’ve already guessed.”
The countess sniffed. “I must have a dinner party soon to become better acquainted with your husbands. Speaking of, Willow dear, where is Bax? Is not he usually out here waiting with Rigsby?”
The woman the countess spoke to looked up at a carriage that rumbled into place outside the townhouse. “He has business at one of his estates. He’ll be home in a day or two.” She turned to Henrietta. “I’ll be by the shop tomorrow for fittings. Will you be there?”
Henrietta nodded, then grinned mischievously. “I’ll be helping Maggie pick out an entirely new wardrobe.”
Maggie startled. “A new wardrobe? I have no plans for such.”
Tobias slanted a studious gaze over his wife and then over the other woman. “Would you like one, though, Mags?”
Henrietta looked down and played with the buttons on her glove. “You do not have to patronize my shop, of course. I was teasing.”
Maggie jumped almost out of her skin beside him. “Oh, but it must be your shop!”
The countess sighed and leaned against the door. “Ah to be young and full of energy.”
A voice behind her grumbled, “There are loiterers on our stoop, Lola. Tell them to go so you can rest.”
The countess cast a look over her shoulder. “If I were not tired, I would not let you send my guests scurrying so, Nathan. But as it is …”
A man’s head and shoulders appeared beside the countess. He glowered at them all. “My wife needs rest. Good day to you all.” Then he kissed the countess full on her lips, pulled her inside, and slammed the door.
Tobias stuck out his hand toward the closed door. “Nice to meet you too, Lord Beckingham.”
Henrietta took Grayson’s arm and pulled him down the street. “The Earl is worried over his wife’s condition. And worry makes him grumpier than usual.” She turned to the woman settling into the carriage. “Next week, then, Willow?”
Willow smiled and waved as the conveyance rolled away.
