Adriana grabbed his napkin and wiped Harry’s fingers. Neither Tony nor Harry could see any physical reason for his sisters’ sudden action.
“There.” Adriana sat back. “Now why don’t you tell Lord Torrington about that huge trout you caught last year?”
Instead, the boys fixed Tony with round eyes.
“Are you really a lord?” Matthew asked.
Tony grinned. “Yes.”
“What sort of lord?” David asked.
“A viscount.” Tony could see from their faces they were trying to recall the order of precedence. “It’s a small lordship. The second smallest.”
They weren’t deterred. “Does that mean you get to wear a coronet at a coronation?”
“What sort of cloak do you get to wear?”
“Do you have a castle?”
He laughed, and answered as best he could, noting the relieved look Alicia threw Adriana; his presence in her parlor was making her skittish, and on more than one front.
Interrogating her brothers was not a gentlemanly act, yet he’d learned long ago that when it came to matters of treason, and that was what he and Dalziel and Whitley were dealing with in one guise or another, one couldn’t adhere to gentlemanly scruples. In that particular theater, adhering to such scruples was a fast way to die, failing one’s country in the process.
He felt no remorse for having used the three boys; they’d come to no harm, and he’d learned what he needed. Now he had to interrogate their elder sister. Again.
“Time for your afternoon lessons, boys. Come along, now.” Alicia stood, waving her brothers to their feet.
They rose, casting glances at Tony; knowing on which side his bread was buttered, he gave them no encouragement to defy their sister, but rose, too, and gravely shook hands.
With resigned polite farewells, the boys trooped out; Alicia followed them into the hall, consigning them into Jenkins’s care.
Seizing the moment, Tony turned to Adriana.
She’d risen, too, and now smiled. “I believe you’re acquainted with Lord Manningham, my lord.”
“Yes. He’s an old friend.”
Amusement flashed through her brown eyes, suggesting Geoffrey had painted their association with greater color.
He didn’t have much time. “I wanted to speak with you. Your sister will have mentioned the matter of Mr. Ruskin.” Adriana’s face immediately clouded; like Alicia, she possessed little by way of a social mask. “I gather you hadn’t met him in the country.”
“No.” Adriana met his gaze; her eyes were clear, but troubled. “He appeared a week or so after we arrived in town. We only met him a handful of times in the ballrooms, never anywhere else.”
She hesitated, then added, “He was not a man either of us could like. He was…oh, what is the word…‘importuning’. That’s it. He hovered about Alicia even though she discouraged him.”
From her expression, it was clear that while Alicia was mother lion, Adriana would be fierce in her sister’s defense. He inclined his head. “It’s perhaps as well, then, that he’s gone.”
Adriana muttered a guiltily fervent assent.
Alicia reentered; he turned to her and smiled. “Thank you for an entertaining afternoon.”
Her look said she wasn’t sure how to interpret that. He took his leave of Adriana, then, as he’d hoped, Alicia accompanied him to the door.
Following him into the hall, she shut the parlor door. He glanced about; fate had smiled—they were alone.
He gave her no time to regroup, but struck immediately. “Ruskin lived at Bledington, close to Chipping Norton. Are you sure you never met him in the country?”
She blinked at him. “Yes—I told you. We only met recently, socially in London.” Her eyes, searching his, suddenly widened. “Oh, was he a friend of your friend? The one you mentioned?”