“It’s something of an emergency,” she continued, her voice urgent. At last she turned her gaze to Evan’s. “Imustspeak to Mr. Forrester. Alone.”
“Without a chaperone?” Evan forced a laugh. Ha, ha, ha. “Out of the question.”
“Not a hundred souls live here,” Miss Grey put in dryly from her vantage point against the wall. “None of us have chaperones.”
“Well, there you go.” He tried to look as though she’d somehow helped his cause. “None of you should be alone with him.”
Miss Stanton fixed him with an exasperated look. “He’s themagistrate.”
“He’s a man,” Evan corrected firmly.
A man with an attractive woman clinging to each arm.
Upon reflection, Evan supposed that as long as Miss Devonshire was one of the barnacles, there was no chance in hell of Forrester shaking free long enough to have the smallest second alone with Miss Stanton. But he still didn’t like it.
“We were just discussing the assembly.” Miss Devonshire’s hallmark chipmunk giggle accompanied this announcement. As did a sly look from beneath her pale lashes.
Definitely trying to make him jealous. Ha.
Her statement caused Miss Stanton to break eye contact with the magistrate long enough to glance about doubtfully. “Here?”
“Of course nothere.” More excited-squirrel noises. “Bath.It will be a weekend to remember.”
“Bath?” Miss Stanton repeated, as if dazed. “They have posting-houses in Bath.”
“Er, yes.” This observation stole the wind from Miss Devonshire’s sails. But only for a moment. “Quite a few stables and beasts, I’m afraid. But we shan’t have to see them. For there’s to be dancing and champagne and the most cunning little cakes, as well as restorative waters and—”
“When?” Miss Stanton demanded, her grip on the magistrate’s hand hard enough to turn a man’s fingers blue. “How will we get there?”
This time, Miss Devonshire’s smile was pure malice.
“I don’t know howwewill get there,” she said acidly. “But those who are invited will go in the carriages of those who invite them.”
“Right.” Miss Stanton’s face fell, and she dropped the magistrate’s arm at last. “That is how it tends to work.”
Although he hadn’t pegged her for the flighty, let’s-drink-weak-punch sort, Evan hated to see Miss Stanton so disappointed at her obvious lack of an invitation. If he weren’t already engaged to be smuggling cargo that weekend, he’d have taken her himself just to make her smile again.
“Haveyouan invitation, then, Dinah?” Miss Grey called from behind them. Although the question seemed innocent, the edge underlying her tone indicated it was anything but.
Evan could swear Miss Devonshire’s teeth were clenched behind the practiced smile. She turned his way.
“Mr. Bothwick—” she began.
“Ah, so you two have plans already?” Forrester interrupted, neatly extricating himself from Miss Devonshire’s physical clutches and preempting theMr. Bothwick can’t take me, so I just know kind Mr. Forrester willthat had been about to spring from her lips. Perhaps the magistrate wasn’t as slow on the uptake as Evan had always thought. “In that case... Miss Stanton, may I? If you’re not promised elsewhere, of course?”
Evan wasn’t sure whose jaw fell open farther—Miss Devonshire’s or his.
Date with high treason be damned. He was going to that stupid assembly with Miss Stanton on his arm. Even if it killed him.
He reached for her. “I—”
“I would love to.” The right words rushed from her lips. But she beamed at Forrester.
Evan’s head exploded.
Forrester, of course, looked thrilled. Charmed, in fact. Why wouldn’t he be? Any man could count himself lucky to have Miss Stanton dancing in his arms.Waltzing.Evan’s throat tightened. Forrester and Miss Stanton, hand in hand, hip to hip. No, no, no. Evan wouldn’t stand for it.
Miss Devonshire looked about to have an apoplexy on the spot.
