insatiable curiosity about Mr. McLeod. She needed to glean some information about his real identity…and learn what he intended to do with the information he now knew about her.
She found the ladies congregated in the drawing room, awaiting the gentlemen, who were still in the dining room enjoying their port.
Ladies flocked to her as soon as she appeared, murmuring how sorry they were about her defective wineglass and commiserating with her regarding the ruin of her lovely dress, though several agreed that they liked the one she wore now even better.
She managed tremulous smiles and nods until the ladies were drawn away by someone’s suggestion to take turns singing and playing on the pianoforte. She took several deep breaths, watching them as they laughed and argued good-naturedly over sheet music, and Sarah came to stand by her side.
“Are you all right?” her sister-in-law asked in a low voice.
“Yes. I think so.”
“Good.” Sarah paused. “What Mr. McLeod did in there…I thought it was very kind.”
Esme latched on to this opening. “Who
is
Mr. McLeod? I have never seen him in Town.”
Sarah’s lips curved. “He is the heir of the Earl of Sutton.”
Esme blinked. “Oh.”
The Earl of Sutton she did know. He had once been a friend to her father, but Trent despised him for reasons she’d never been able to determine. She’d met the man once, at a ball, and he’d looked at her with cold blue eyes—eyes, now that she thought of it, quite similar to his son’s. In fact, the earl looked very much like an older version of Cam. She was surprised, come to think of it, that she hadn’t made the connection earlier.
“Mr. McLeod does not interact with society much,” Sarah continued in a low voice. “He had a very open falling out with his father years ago. Evidently, it included a decision on his part to avoid the
haute ton
altogether. He did so by joining the army and participating in many campaigns, including Waterloo. But now he’s evidently given up his commission and returned to London. We invited him because he’s a friend of Lord Pinfield, and Pinfield asked if we would extend the invitation. Your brother thought it would be a good idea to get to know him a little better.”
Esme frowned, remembering Betty at the whorehouse telling her and Mr. McLeod that she and “Pinny” wanted food. Had she meant Lord Pinfield? Had Mr. McLeod and Pinfield come to the establishment searching for the same thing?
Maybe when she’d encountered him, Mr. McLeod hadn’t yet found his “girl” to entertain him for the evening. Perhaps he’d intended for
Esme
to be that girl.
She’d been so lost in the memory of his kiss, she hadn’t even considered these possibilities. Now the thought of them made her twisted stomach feel like a stone had settled somewhere within the knots.
One of the younger ladies began to sing, and all eyes in the room riveted to her. The air in the drawing room was close and thick, and Esme clenched her fists with the now-familiar feeling of her skin prickling and sweat beading at her temples. She gave Sarah’s arm a squeeze. “I think I’ll go outside for a moment. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Should I send…?”
But Esme was already opening the double doors to the terrace. She slipped out into the night and closed the doors quietly behind her, moving to stand in the narrow space between two potted trees. She placed her hands on the railing and looked out over Green Park.
The spring evening was very dark, with no moon and just a smattering of stars breaking through London’s coal haze. There was no one else on the terrace, perhaps because it had grown somewhat cool. She gazed at the park, only able to make out the shadowy outlines of trees and bushes in the dimness.
Except those moments when she was in his company, she’d hardly thought about Henry tonight. She hadn’t even noticed where he’d been seated at the dinner table.
Guilt swept through her, tightening her