Chloe had an extremely animated supper with Braddon Chatwin, given that Will was feeding Mrs. Prebworth pieces of chicken with his fingers, a mere two tables away. Chloe flirted with Braddon in a way that shook that earl to the bottom of his toes. Luckily for him, he kept his head by assuring himself that his sensitivity had not been wrong, and Miss van Stork didn’t really mean for him to grab her up and take her off to meet his mama this very moment.

Chloe had never been so wretched in her life. She was flirting with a big, clumsy person. He might be an earl, but he was the most ponderous man she’d ever met. All he seemed to be able to talk about were his stables. And meanwhile Will was practically kissing Mrs. Prebworth right there, in front of the whole ton! Finally she’d had enough.

She raised her eyes endearingly to Braddon. “My lord, I find myself suddenly quite tired—although I have most enjoyed our supper,” she added hastily. “Will you be so kind as to escort me back to Lady Commonweal, please?”

And so when Will risked another glance in the direction of Chloe and that confounded Braddon, as he had taken to thinking of his old school friend, there was no one there. The table had been taken over by a chattering flock of matrons, escorted by one bored husband.

“Damnation!” he swore, jumping to his feet.

Mrs. Prebworth raised her eyebrows, laughing. “Did the bird fly the coop?” she asked.

Will sat down again. “You saw through me?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your attention,” Camilla Prebworth assured him. “But I felt as if someone was being murdered to the right, you looked over so often. Well, go find her,” she said. “And if you see my husband, will you tell him where I am?” She was a bit tired of being the target of so many gossips’ eyes. Maybe it was time to take herself and her beloved, long-suffering husband home.

Will jumped to his feet, smiling down at her. “Thank you,” he said briefly. He strode out of the supper room at top speed.