Page 20 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)
Stella tapped her foot while Maggie latched the last button.
She’d opted for one of her nicer day dresses for dinner.
Even in the company of close friends, dinner at the manor should maintain some etiquette.
If for no other reason, it made the staff happy to be doing something more than polishing the same serving trays over and over.
“I’m sorry, Lady Stella.” Maggie waved her hands, her face scrunched. “My fingers can’t seem to grip the buttons fast enough.”
Stella’s foot stopped, and she realized her mistake.
“I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s not you. You’re doing fine.
I’m just a bit anxious. This is my first time hosting a dinner without any real support.
I don’t know this staff well, and Mary was always around to help with the little details.
” She glanced at Maggie, and a slow grin started. “There is Eleanor.”
“Then that’s your answer.” Maggie patted the chair. “Let me just brush your hair and put some clips in to pull it back. You’ll look quite stately.”
Stella sat, her body sagging as the stress leaked out of her.
“I’d bet five pence Eleanor is already in the kitchen watching over everyone’s tasks.
” Maggie sorted the hair clips, pushing them around until she found the ones she wanted.
“The footmen were excited to hear about the dinner, so you don’t have to worry about them.
” Maggie pulled Stella’s hair back to just beyond her ears and placed three jeweled clips on each side.
Stella looked back and forth in the mirror, and pleased, she stood and gave Maggie a quick hug.
“It’s perfect.” She picked up her wrap. “Quickly do whatever you need to do this evening with my clothes, then you’re done for the night.
We’ll be sleeping in late, so you can leave the coffee service at the door and just knock.
” She winked at Maggie, and when the young girl blushed, Stella wondered if she’d ever been that innocent. It would have been a long time ago.
She strode into an already filled drawing room.
Jamie, Fitz, and Lando, whom she’d barely spent any time with since arriving in London, had cleaned up without the waistcoats and cravats.
Stella found it refreshing, and it matched the equally less formal attire of Bart, Lincoln, Eleanor, and Barrington, who rounded out the guests.
Beckworth met her with a glass of wine and steered her toward the center of the group.
It was fun to play a noblewoman in London, but these people were who she truly was.
She enjoyed listening to the men spin tales, and the more they drank, the taller and grander they became.
The last of her tension drained away. These were her peeps.
And even Bart was at his best, sharing stories of his earlier days spent in London.
But when dinner was called, the group paid her deference.
Jamie was the first one by her side to walk her into the dining room, and she suspected this might be one of her best nights in London.
The evening was exactly as Stella had expected, with the group going through a replay of her various exploits and heroics of chasing down the thief at the duke’s ball. Other stories followed before Beckworth invited everyone to Chester and Katherine’s party the following evening in the East End.
Then came a moment, fortunate, or not, depending on how one might interpret the possible fallout, Stella had her head down as she tried to remove capers from the boiled lamb.
The lamb was perfect, but she despised the little green balls.
It was by sheer accident, a mere slip of the tongue, and something Stella would most likely not have heard since Fitz was sitting at the other end of the table, but the timing of his words came during the split second all other conversation had ceased.
She’d been so focused on her task that she’d barely listened to the discussion. Beckworth had just invited everyone to the East End when she heard Fitz mumble, “Hensley won’t be happy with no one at the docks.”
Then, like someone had just cleared the wax out of her ears, several conversations started, drowning out any response Fitz’s statement might have produced.
She’d stopped her task for only a second, but something made her examine Fitz’s words.
Would Beckworth have noticed the slight interruption in her battle with the capers, and if so, why should she be worried about that?
Then it hit her. Hensley. She pushed the last caper away, ate a piece of lamb, then lifted her head and glanced around the table as if trying to decide which conversation to join.
She purposely didn’t look at Beckworth until after she’d first glanced at Bart and Eleanor.
She met his gaze for only a moment, not surprised to have found him watching her.
She smiled at him before searching for the first person who could deflect his studied gaze.
“Lincoln, tell us about your tours at the Royal College of Surgeons.”
While she listened to Lincoln’s excited recital of events, the first kernel of doubt settled in.
What was Hensley up to at the docks? It might be nothing, but then again, nothing was simple where the spymaster was concerned.
She dearly loved Hensley. And while he was a good friend, he was single-minded in his pursuit of protecting England.
But until she heard some other tidbit of information, she needed to let the statement pass.
She didn’t have long to think about it when Beckworth changed topics.
“Stella, is there anything you can share about the inspector’s visit?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Well, he’s no Sherlock Holmes.” She grinned, and Beckworth’s eyes sparkled. He’d become obsessed with the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes’s books that AJ had found at an estate sale. They read them together in the evenings while cuddled next to each other.
When Jamie cleared his throat, she cursed the heat that had quickly risen up between them and shifted her gaze to the group.
“Sorry.” Stella sipped wine as her cheeks cooled.
“Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character written by an author who hasn’t been born yet.
The character is an exceptionally bright inspector at Scotland Yard in London, which doesn’t exist yet.
He had unique instincts for uncovering a mystery and always caught his man.
” She sighed and leaned back against the chair.
“Inspector Littlefield’s visit seemed more an exercise in satisfying the duke’s request than solving anything.
He spent most of his time chastising me for interfering with the duke’s men. ”
Fitz snorted. “I bet he left with his tail tucked.”
Everyone laughed, as did Stella, but then she turned sad. “He’s not going to do much about it, and that necklace was precious to Elizabeth.”
There wasn’t much to say after that. Once dessert was concluded, instead of the men going off to the study and the two women to the drawing room, they all moved to the library.
Two chess sets had been prepared in addition to tables for whist, and they enjoyed another couple of hours until Jamie, Lando, and Fitz left for the ship.
Stella went upstairs shortly after and was finishing her nighttime routine when Beckworth joined her. She sniffed the jar of lotion, then rubbed the soft lavender scent over her arms. “I forgot to tell you. I decided to go to a garden party with Flora tomorrow.”
Beckworth stepped behind her and rubbed her shoulders. He leaned in and kissed her collarbone. “I thought we might spend the day together before Chester and Katherine’s party.”
She closed the lid and stood, slowly turning toward Beckworth. The belt on her robe had fallen away, and she let her robe slip open to provide an enticing sight. His gaze lowered, and her skin grew hot.
She placed a hand on his shirt. “Why don’t we have a sleep-in tomorrow? I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time while I’m at the garden party.”
His eyes shifted for a second. She probably imagined it because his smile was blinding. “I haven’t had a chance to visit the gentleman’s club. Barrington normally checks for mail once a month or so, but I might as well go and see if any old friends are about.”
She matched his smile and held it as she brushed a few locks from his face, though she couldn’t forget Fitz’s slip at dinner.
It probably meant nothing, even though she was certain she was missing something.
But she had her own agenda, and unless there was more evidence than shifty gazes, she trusted Beckworth to tell her if there was anything important to share.
The last thing she wanted was to create an argument while Beckworth removed his clothing.
Though she considered helping, tonight she preferred to watch.
She climbed onto the bed, leveraging the robe to reveal just enough skin to keep his eyes rooted on her as he removed the cravat and the waistcoat.
After removing his boots, he strode to the stand in front of the fire to remove his pants and shirt.
His sly art of seduction, using the firelight behind him to conceal his finer details, worked its magic, though she knew his body well enough that her imagination had no problem keeping up.
He stalked to the bed as she backed away. A strong shiver of anticipation washed over her when he stepped close enough for her to melt into the heated desire in his eyes. He crawled onto the bed and tugged her robe to pull her closer.