“This is Mrs. Renshaw,” Lady Witney said. “Mrs. Renshaw, perhaps you and Mr. Arbuthnot met in London?” The marchioness gave him a dazzling smile. “Are you a member of the Phoenix Club perhaps? Mrs. Renshaw is one of the patronesses.”

Evie worked not to shake her head. The marchioness had been so close to not mentioning the club in this entire conversation.

Arbuthnot, whose name did not summon any recognition, shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. Spend my club time at Boodle’s.” He took a swig of ale.

That Evie couldn’t place him was bothering her. “What brings you to the area, Mr. Arbuthnot?”

“My sister and her husband live on the other side of Witney. I’m visiting for the holidays.”

That didn’t help.

“Ah, here comes Mr. Creighton,” Heloise said, her gaze on the doorway where he was entering with Lord Witney. “Please excuse me.”

“And me,” Evie said. Arbuthnot’s frequent glances toward her bosom were irritating. She accompanied Heloise toward her husband.

“I was hoping you’d come along,” Heloise whispered. “I found Arbuthnot rather objectionable.”

“As did I. He did seem familiar, however.” Suddenly, she knew. A soft gasp bolted from her lips before she could stop it.

Heloise sent her a sharp glance. “What?”

“We met at one of Mrs. Farrow’s balls. Thank goodness he didn’t remember that.” But what if he did recall meeting her at a ball hosted by one of London’s most successful courtesans? Evie had encountered only a few gentlemen over the past two and a half years who’d known her as Mirabelle Renault, the courtesan. She’d been careful to keep the interactions brief and endeavored not to return to wherever she’d encountered them. Thankfully, none of those men had recollected her. She didn’t like that this man was connected to Witney. It meant she might visit her sister even less and that when she did, she wouldn’t stray far from Threadbury Hall.

Not for the first time, she wished Heloise and Alfred had remained in Nottinghamshire.

They reached Alfred, who apologized to Heloise for disappearing for so long. “I must say, Witney is keen to learn about building, even if he is a trifle insufferable.” He grimaced slightly. “I don’t mean to be uncharitable.”

“Don’t think poorly of yourself,” Heloise said. “The Witneys are simply…complicated.”

The three of them stared at each other a moment, then began to laugh. Evie caught sight of Gregory again, but he wasn’t looking in her direction. Her pulse picked up speed as desire sparked. She’d really hoped that sensation would have faded by now.

He laughed at something the person he was speaking with said. Evie looked past him and realized who that was—Arbuthnot. They were friendly? Evie didn’t need to understand the specifics. It was enough to know they were acquainted.