She laughed hollowly. “You barely talk to me at balls. You avoid me when you encounter me with Grey and Beatrice. You certainly don’t seek me out in public. What exactly makes us friends?”
“Our connection to Grey, for one thing. Think of me as an older brother.”
“Yes,” she snapped, “I could tell how brotherly you were when you were kissing me.”
He gritted his teeth. “I told you—”
“You were looking out for me. Teaching me a lesson. Right.”
She sounded angry. Why should she be angry? That made no sense. But when he searched her face, whatever anger had been in her tone did not match her nonchalant expression, making him wonder if he’d imagined it.
“And in any case,” she went on, “I don’t need another older brother. Grey is more than enough, trust me.”
“Ah, but he’s preoccupied these days. And I am not.”
“I see.” She tucked a wayward curl up in her turban. “Very well. Tell me how you intend to go about helping me snag Mr. Juncker.”
“You might have failed in making him jealous tonight, but I can give you plenty more chances to do so.” He quickly amended that. “Chances that won’t mean your ruin.” He stared her down. “I’ll court you publicly. But as a gentleman. If that doesn’t wring an offer of marriage from him, then nothing will, and I will be proved right about his character.”
Sheridan could practically see Vanessa’s clever mind weighing the proposition, turning it this way and that in the light to figure out if it had any dark side.
To his surprise, as he awaited her response his breath quickened and his pulse raced. He told himself it was only because he needed to get more information from her mother. So far, he’d learned practically nothing about that period of Lady Eustace’s life and Mother’s, except that his mother had been considered a diamond of the first water in her youth, which he already knew. According to Lady Eustace, men had done extraordinary things to get Mother’s attention. One fellow supposedly even killed himself when she refused him.
That was the most absurd thing Sheridan could imagine—killing oneself over a woman, even a woman as widely admired as his mother. He would never allow himself to get into such a state over anyone again. Aside from the scandal and the financial burden of it, it didn’t make sense in terms of one’s family. His had been through enough grief. He would never add to it.
“You’re willing to pretend to court me,” Vanessa asked, “and risk being branded a fool once I marry Juncker just on the chance you’ll be proved right about his character?”
If it helps find my father’s killer, I am. He shrugged. “I like being right. That’s not unusual in a duke, you know.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. Grey has that particular vice himself.” Vanessa stared down the corridor in the direction Juncker had gone. “And if your plan doesn’t wring an offer from Mr. Juncker? Aren’t you worried you’ll be irretrievably linked to me? That people will expect us to marry?”
“They can expect whatever they wish,” Sheridan drawled. “Men court women all the time without success. All you need do is say the word, and I shall suddenly lose interest in you. Or, if you’re worried such behavior will hurt your future with other suitors, you can jilt me. Either way, we’ll be done with each other.”
He would have to arrange it, however, so that it only happened after he’d gained from her mother what he needed for their investigation.
She tipped up her chin. “All right then. I agree to your proposal. With one caveat. That if Mr. Juncker does show an interest in marrying me, you will bow out gracefully.”
“Of course.” But Sheridan would wager any amount of money that Juncker would never do so. Sheridan knew his type. They didn’t marry—not for love or money.
The sound of applause came to his ears, signaling the end of the second act.
“Oh, dear,” Vanessa said. “We must hurry if I’m to catch Miss Younger before she and Lady Whitmarsh leave the box.”
She started off in the direction she’d been heading before, and Sheridan hurried to follow. “Wait,” he said. “Do you mean there really is a Miss Younger?”
“Certainly. What kind of ninny do you take me for? I could hardly invent a friend when it would be very easy to check if such a person existed.”
He had to admit there was no escaping her logic. Did that mean she hadn’t been heading off to search for Juncker? That they’d really only encountered the man by chance?
Somehow he doubted that.
Vanessa watched uneasily as Sheridan went out of his way to charm her friend Flora Younger. Not that Vanessa was surprised. Flora wasn’t pretty so much as she was arresting. Unlike most tall women Vanessa knew, she didn’t try to play down her height. Then there was Flora’s dark blond hair, which lay in elegant waves in her coiffure, and Flora’s eyes, an unusual amber color that shone golden in candlelight.
Vanessa fought not to be jealous of her, but it was difficult since Sheridan had never shown her such warm congeniality. He was certainly capable of it. Vanessa had seen glimpses of it in his behavior toward his half sister and his cousin Beatrice. But after having been kissed by him so thoroughly and then dismissed like a . . . a maidservant, Vanessa couldn’t bear that he still couldn’t show her such warmth.
The only thing that kept her from resenting her friend was Flora’s complete lack of guile. Flora knew that the Duke of Armitage was as unlikely to marry her as the king himself.
“Don’t you think so, Vanessa?” Flora said.
Vanessa blinked. “Um . . .”
“Pay her no mind,” Sheridan told Flora, nodding to Vanessa. “Your friend there has a tendency to woolgather.”
“How would you know?” Vanessa asked. “Why, you’ve seen me in society only a handful of times—scarcely enough to form an opinion of my character.”
“On the contrary, I think I know your character very well,” he quipped, eyes gleaming. “You love fashion, frolics, and folderol.”
Vanessa scowled, but Flora burst into laughter. “Clearly, you don’t know her at all, Your Grace.”
“And you know her better, I suppose,” he teased Flora.
“I should hope so. I’ve been attending the same balls as Vanessa since her debut. Her mother is related to my employer.”
Sheridan raised an eyebrow at Vanessa. “Employer?”
“You didn’t give me a chance to explain earlier,” Vanessa said. “Flora is the companion of Lady Whitmarsh.” Who presently sat chatting with a friend in the corner. “Flora is also two years older than I.”
That seemed to stymie Sheridan. But only for a moment. “So her post as companion is why she hasn’t had a debut,” Sheridan said smoothly. “Ah. That makes sense.”
To Vanessa’s pleasure, Sheridan in no way showed what he had to have surmised—that Flora had little money and no rank in society. Only the kindness of Lady Whitmarsh allowed Flora to do such things as attend plays and go to balls. Vanessa could have kissed him for not changing his manner one jot now that he knew.
Vanessa cast her friend a smug smile. “His Grace assumed you to be much younger than I. He thought you some blushing schoolgirl. Didn’t you, Sheridan?”