Anthea laughed, almost in spite of herself, and Crafter responded with a smile of amusement. “The Rajah, it seemed, wished to forestall the incursions of the Company by treating directly with the governor-general, who is at least nominally in the service of Crown as well as commerce—so there I was, a subject of His Majesty and an emissary to him, one and the same.”
Anthea laughed again, and would have liked to ask him more, but the music ended, and Crafter stepped back, releasing her hand with a bow. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Gosling. May I look forward to repeating the pleasure?”
“I ... I think perhaps the third gavotte.” Anthea examined her programme carefully, which was rather difficult, as it was completely blank. However, she inscribed Mr. Crafter’s name, then curtseyed and said, “Thank you for your fascinating conversation, Mr. Crafter. I shall look forward to more accounts of your exotic adventures.”
Crafter smiled and bowed again, then left her—and her friends flocked around immediately.
“Really, the Man of Mystery himself, Anthea! Did he tell you of murderous deeds and mysterious doings?”
“Is he as ominous as they say, Anthea?”
“You laughed quite well, Anthea. Was he truly amusing?” Then everyone fell silent at the approach of three gentlemen, and someone drew breath rather sharply, for at their head came Lord Delbert, his eyes sparkling as brightly as the diamond in his neckcloth, crowned with a mane of raven hair, his bright blue eyes seeking out Anthea as he bowed. “Miss Gosling! May I have the pleasure?”
Her friends stared as Delbert led her out onto the floor, and Anthea thought he must surely hear the pounding of her heart.
“Where have you been hiding, Miss Gosling?” Lord Delbert asked. “You have never graced London before.”
Anthea gave a little laugh. “Not since I was ten, your lordship. We have been living in Kent in the interim.”
“How naughty of your parents, to hide away so dazzling a beauty!”
Anthea’s face flushed with pleasure, though she told herself it was only empty flattery. Still, she knew that she was pretty enough, and that the light of the massed candles showed the auburn glints in her hair to their best advantage. “But, sir! You must not speak so!”
“No, I must, for beauty deserves tribute. Do you remember much of the town, Miss Gosling?”
“Only Saint Paul’s and Saint James’s, Mr. Delbert.”
“Then you must allow me to show you more of it! There are such brave sights, Miss Gosling. We must begin with the Park ...”
By the time the dance ended, he had claimed three more, and had cajoled her promise to allow him to call on the morrow and take her driving in his phaeton.
On the way home, Anthea chattered and exclaimed without pause. Aunt Trudy listened with a fond smile, prompting her with a question whenever she seemed to be slackening. She was only just beginning to run down as they came home. When they had come in, though, and the footmen had divested them of their cloaks and the maid had brought them Cambric tea, Anthea finally realized that Aunt Trudy had been much more quiet than was her wont. “Did some aspect of my evening trouble you, Aunt? My dances with Mr. Crafter, perhaps?”
“Crafter? Pooh!” Aunt Trudy waved him away. “A pleasant enough gentleman, certainly, though contaminated with the aroma of trade. There is some justification for him in the rumor that he enjoys it as other men enjoy their horses or cards, but it is nonetheless déclassé. Still, he is impeccable in his conduct, to the point of dullness.”
“Then is it ...” Anthea swallowed. “Lord Delbert?”
“Delbert has the face and form of an angel, and the tongue of a devil,” Aunt Trudy said, frowning. “There is nothing to be said against him, of course—he comes of excellent family, and has never been observed to be improper. Still ...”
Anthea’s heart plummeted at the “still.”
“There are rumors,” Aunt Trudy went on. “Nothing definite, you understand, all very vague, but there is some question as to why he is still a bachelor in his thirties.”
“No doubt the arrow of love has never found his heart!”
“Or has found it all too often,” Aunt Trudy said grimly. “I wouldn’t dream of denying you his company, Anthea—but I would urge caution.”
Aunt Trudy had good reason to recommend wariness. Nonetheless, Lord Delbert called the next day, and his conversation and bold gaze quite thrilled Anthea till her blood seemed to bubble in her veins. His visit was almost concluded, and he was just soliciting again her promise to drive in the Park with him that afternoon, when the butler brought in Mr. Crafter’s card. Aunt Trudy looked up and nodded, and the butler bowed and departed. Lord Delbert, however, seemed not to have noticed, so he was still chatting with Anthea quite amiably when Crafter appeared in the doorway. Lord Delbert looked up, and rose to his feet as Crafter presented himself with a smooth and somehow sinister grace that flowed into a bow. “Lady Brock, how good of you! Miss Anthea, a pleasure! And yourself, Delbert.”
“Bit out of your territory, ain’t you, Crafter?” Delbert said with a devilish grin. “Too far from the counting-house by half.”
“A distance which I would recommend to you, milord,” Crafter said, returning the smile.
Delbert flushed angrily, to Anthea’s surprise, and turned to bow to her. “Until this afternoon, Lady Anthea.”
“Until then, my lord,” she murmured, and he rather ostentatiously kissed her hand, then turned away.
Puzzled, she turned back, to see Mr. Crafter following Lord Delbert’s exit with amusement in those gray eyes.
“Please be seated, Mr. Crafter,” Aunt Trudy urged. Anthea drifted into a chair.
“Thank you, Lady Brock,” Mr. Crafter sat. “I fear I have clouded a bright afternoon.”
“Not at all,” Aunt Trudy said briskly. “I am sure Lord Delbert is far more entertaining in the phaeton than in the drawing room. Tea, Anthea?”
“Yes, thank you, Aunt.” Then Anthea fell silent, at a loss for a topic.
Mr. Crafter slid smoothly into the momentary silence. “Are you enjoying the Season, Miss Anthea?”
“Oh, yes! It is so gay, even festive! Really, I am so glad to be back in London!” The statement gave her the idea for a possible topic. “And yourself, Mr. Crafter? Did you find your return to London pleasant, or would you have preferred to remain in India?”
“I assure you, I blessed the cool breeze of England,” Mr. Crafter said, smiling. “India has its attractions and fascinations, but it is, when all is said and done, alien, and I found I’d no wish for it to be otherwise.”
“Did you tire of it, then?”
“For the moment,” Mr. Crafter said judiciously, “though I would not be loath to return at a later date. It is not one large country, you see, but a host of small ones. I saw only a tenth of it, perhaps not even that.”
“But their customs! Surely they don’t differ from one kingdom to the next?”
His eyes brightened; she realized, with a start, that he hadn’t expected her to know that many of the independent states in India were sovereign kingdoms. “There are small differences between neighboring countries, but there are great ones between the North and South ...”
And they were off into a discussion that was, in its own way, just as fascinating as Lord Delbert’s visit, though much less exciting. Anthea found, to her surprise, that Mr. Crafter listened to her opinions with respect, and never contradicted them—he only narrated such of his own experiences that confirmed or denied what she had read. Aunt Trudy finally had to call a halt to the conversation, though she confessed that she herself was loath to. Nonetheless, the ladies did need a few hours to prepare for the afternoon, so Mr. Crafter was dismissed. He did not, upon his going, kiss Anthea’s hand, or even try to—but he looked long and deeply into her eyes, and said that he hoped they would have occasion to chat again. Then he bowed to Aunt Trudy, and departed.