Lady Macintosh gasped. “TheRowan Trent? I never thought to meet you.”
“I didn’t think you existed,” Lady Templeton said.
“I do. Exist.” Rowan bowed low and smooth and came up with a rakish grin. “And I apologize for keeping you ladies waiting all these years.”
Oh no. He was a flirt. A masterful one, too.
“You own that hotel, don’t you?” Lady Templeton asked.
To look at him, Rowan still seemed at ease, but his hand at this side had crushed into a fist. “I do. Hestia. I am in the process of expanding it.”
“Oh.” Lady Macintosh nudged Lady Templeton.
And Rowan somehow grew harder, his jawline transforming into a cliff edge. “Am I boring you with talk ofwork?”
“Not at all.” Lady Macintosh waved her hand at him. “I was justthinking… Sarah, what book was it where the dastardly baron was intent on establishing a jam empire?”
“The Dastardly Baron, I believe.” Lady Templeton popped open a fan and waved it swiftly near her face. “That was a… compelling story. Very inventive uses of jam that I, personally, have found quite invigorating. You, Trent.” She snapped the fan closed and poked him with it. “Are you dastardly? Do you have plans to grow an empire? Do you like jam?”
“Empire, yes. Jam, yes. Dastardly… not most days. I hope.”
Lady Templeton chuckled. “Isabella, have you staked a claim here, or am I free to find other ladies for this eligible bachelor?”
Mine. That’s what she wanted to say.Mine and no one else’s. But she swallowed those words and said, “Do as it pleases you, my lady.”
“I’m afraid,” Rowan said, “you should consider me off the market. As I so recently told Lady Isabella, I can no longer count myself as one among the bachelor flock.”
“Hmm.” Both ladies made a humming sound with one clear meaning—despite so few words—danger.
“You’ve been following Lady Isabella about.” Lady Templeton’s eyes narrowed. “Do not think we have not noticed.”
Lady Macintosh tilted her head to the side. “Yes, staying quite close to her.Weare observant if no one else is.”
“How did you two meet?” Lady Templeton asked.
“Such a boring tale!” Isabella laughed. Quite awkwardly in jumpy starts.Think of a lie and think of it quick.
“Pardon me.” Tristan sauntered up to the group and clapped a hand on Rowan’s shoulder.
Thank the heavens. Her favorite brother-in-law to the rescue.
“I’m in need of Mr. Trent here,” Tristan said. “Do you ladies mind if I steal him?”
“Not at all.” Possibly, Isabella spoke a little too loudly. Then, possibly a little too quietly after Tristan had guided Rowan away, she said, “Why do you think Tristan needs him? What are they up to?”
“Why do you care?” Lady Macintosh asked.
“I don’t. Only it’s suspicious.”
“I have a new bit of gossip,” Lady Templeton said, snapping her fan back open and speaking from behind it. “It seems another one of the Merriweather sisters may be headed toward matrimony.”
Isabella scowled. “That is a joke. About me. I’m not amused.”
“Where did you meet him?” Lady Templeton asked.
“That is not important.”
“Scandal.” Lady Macintosh shivered. “I can smell it. Do tell. As your mentors, we demand to know.”
