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“As well one should,” Lady Townsend responded with a sparkle in her eye that made her look years younger. “A good partnership at cards, like so many things in life, requires both strategy and understanding.”

Amelia forced her attention back to her own cards, though she couldn’t help noticing how Lord Thornton’s expression softened at Lady Townsend’s words.

Her hand was respectable—two aces and a promising run of hearts—but her concentration kept wandering to Sir Frederick’s table, where Mrs. Perry’s tinkling laugh seemed to pierce the general murmur of conversation with unnecessary frequency.

They played several hands, Lady Townsend proving to be an excellent partner who could read Amelia’s leads with almost uncanny accuracy.

But as the evening wore on, it became increasingly difficult to concentrate.

The tension from the next table was palpable, the stakes clearly rising with each hand.

Albert, Lady Pendleton’s son, handled his cards with the same quiet competence he seemed to bring to everything, while Henry’s attempts at lighthearted commentary grew increasingly forced.

Even from her position, Amelia could see that Mr. Greene’s pile of chips had dwindled alarmingly, with Colonel Blackwood’s voice growing increasingly strident.

“Your play, Mr. Greene,” Albert said quietly as the tension mounted. Amelia noticed how the young heir’s calm presence seemed to steady the table, though Colonel Blackwood’s complexion grew increasingly florid with each round.

“Really, Greene, that’s the third time you’ve reneged. A gentleman ought to know better.” The Colonel’s hand shook slightly as he gestured toward the trick they’d just completed.

“A mere oversight,” Greene responded smoothly, though Amelia noticed his fingers drumming restlessly on the table edge. “I assure you, Colonel, I am good for it.”

“Like you were good for it at White’s last month?” The Colonel’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Or at Boodle’s the month before?”

“Gentlemen,” Albert interjected with quiet authority, “perhaps we should call it an evening.”

But the Colonel was not to be silenced. “When a man’s vowels are being passed around half the clubs in London—”

“I said, that’s enough.” Albert’s tone, while still quiet, held steel. He placed his cards face down with deliberate care.

Henry, who had been watching the exchange with growing concern, suddenly brightened. “I say, did anyone see Caroline’s performance in the charades? Wasn’t she capital?”

Amelia, who had been watching the mounting tension at their table, noticed how Henry’s hand moved unconsciously toward Caroline at the next table, as if to shield her from what was unfolding.

“Oh yes, Henry, do tell us again how I made everyone laugh!” Caroline called over, her smile brightening.

“Though you’re one to talk. Your impression of a lovesick swain was quite something.

What was it you said? ‘Oh, my beloved is like a summer’s day, except when she’s being as stubborn as a mule! ’”

Several people laughed, and Henry’s ears turned pink. “I was referring to my horse, of course.”

“Of course you were.” Caroline’s eyes danced with mischief.

“Children, please,” Colonel Blackwood interrupted testily. “Some of us are trying to concentrate.”

Amelia noticed how quickly Henry’s attention snapped back to Mr. Greene, his protective instincts clearly warring with his natural good humor.

Caroline might be too dazzled by Mr. Greene’s worldly charm to see the predatory gleam in his eye, but she suspected Henry saw it.

Sir Frederick said he’d grown up with Caroline.

Obviously, their shared childhood adventures and mishaps came quickly to mind.

It seemed he, too, was concerned by her infatuation with a man who could never appreciate her true worth.

“Your play, Mr. Greene,” Albert said quietly. But what struck Amelia most was how Henry’s fingers tightened on his cards when Mr. Greene sent Caroline another calculated smile.

“Do you remember,” Henry said suddenly, his voice pitched for Caroline’s ears though Amelia could still hear him, “that time we found what we thought was a ghost in the old dovecote?”

Caroline turned back to him, momentarily distracted from Mr. Greene. “It was just your jacket that you’d left there the day before! But we were so sure it was a ghost, we made up that whole story about star-crossed lovers meeting in secret…”

“And now here we are at a real ghost hunt,” Henry said softly. “Though some mysteries aren’t as romantic as they seem.”

The warning in his voice was gentle but clear. Caroline’s smile faltered slightly, and for a moment, Amelia saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes. But then Mr. Greene spoke again, and the moment was lost.

But something else had happened at the nearby table, which Amelia had missed.

Mr. Greene had risen, his chair scraping back with unnecessary force as he glared around the table. “I don’t care for your implications, sir.”

“They’re not implications,” Colonel Blackwood shot back. “They’re facts. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed certain family heirlooms appearing in certain establishments—”

The sound of cards being flung down interrupted whatever else the Colonel might have said. Amelia was startled to realize they were her own cards.

“Oh! I do beg your pardon.” She forced a laugh as three pairs of eyes turned to her. “Such clumsy fingers tonight.”

“Allow me,” Lord Thornton said smoothly, helping her gather the scattered cards. But she noticed his sharp glance toward the other table where Albert had also risen and was speaking quietly but firmly to both Greene and the Colonel.

“Really, Miss Fairchild,” Lady Townsend remarked with apparent casualness, “one would think you’d never dropped cards before. Though I dare say it’s better than throwing imaginary vases.”

The gentle teasing made Amelia smile, grateful for the older woman’s tact in drawing attention away from the scene playing out beside them.

Yet she couldn’t help noticing how Greene’s hands shook slightly as he collected his winnings, or how his eyes kept darting toward Caroline, who sat at another table, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents swirling about her.

“I believe I shall retire,” Amelia said, rising. “The excitement of the charades has quite worn me out.”

But as she made her way toward the door, she distinctly heard the Colonel mutter, “Mark my words, that young man will bring nothing but trouble. And someone ought to warn Sir Frederick about his sister…”

As she reached the door, Amelia glanced back to see Sir Frederick had also risen, his expression troubled as he watched Greene disappear through another exit.

Their eyes met briefly across the room, and she knew they shared the same concern: Caroline, still laughing at her table, remained blissfully unaware of the undercurrents that threatened to pull her into their depths.

Lady Townsend’s voice carried clearly as she bid Lord Thornton goodnight. “Such an interesting evening. One never knows what cards fate will deal, does one?”