“Thank you.” He accepted the brandy she offered and raised the glass to her. “I had no idea you were such an accomplished musician and glamourist.”

Jane looked away. “It is an idle amusement, sir.”

“Nonsense. Music and the other womanly arts are what brings comfort to a home.” He looked at the palm trees and egrets adorning the drawing room. “I hope to have a home such as this one day.”

Jane put her hand on the piano to steady herself, keenly aware that she was alone with him. “Indeed,” she murmured. “Though I would venture to say that Robinsford Abbey is most gracious.”

“But it lacks that comfort which a wife with the gift of glamour might bring.” He inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and exhaled it in a sigh. “Other men might seek a lovely face, but I should think that they would consider exquisite taste the higher treasure. Beauty will fade, but not a gift such as this.”

“Do you not think that glamour might be learned, whereas beauty is innate?”

“Glamour, yes. But not taste, I think.” He smiled and inclined his head. “It was a conversation close to this topic which prompted my tardy arrival here. Have you had occasion to meet Mr. Vincent?”

“I’m afraid you have the better of me.”

“Ah. I thought Miss Melody might have mentioned him. Lady FitzCameron has retained his services to create a glamural for her dining hall. He is a fascinating fellow, who studied with Herr Scholes and has taken commissions from the Prince Regent. Stunning talent, really.”

“Did Melody meet him, then?” It seemed odd that her sister would fail to mention it. Visitors to their neighbourhood were rare enough to be newsworthy, but to have such an accomplished glamourist in the vicinity was a significant event.

“I thought they met, but perhaps I am mistaken. In any case, Mr. Vincent had much to say on the subject of glamour, which I think you might find to be compelling arguments in my favour.”

The front door opened again, and Melody flung the door to the drawing room wide. Her face was red and stained with tears. When she saw Mr. Dunkirk, she uttered a cry of dismay and fled the room.

Jane closed her eyes. Poor Melody. What must she think? To see Jane quite alone with a man for whom Melody so clearly had an attachment must seem as a betrayal. When Jane opened her eyes, he had set his glass down to greet Mr. Ellsworth.

Excusing herself, Jane said, “I feel that I must check on Melody.”

“I hope she has not suffered an accident,” Mr. Dunkirk said.

Jane’s father harrumphed and mumbled that Melody had twisted her ankle while walking, to which Mr. Dunkirk replied, “Then I will leave you to tend to her.” He took his leave, only pausing at the door to say, “May I call again?”

“Of course!” Mr. Ellsworth beamed. “Come whenever you like.”

“Then I will see you soon.” Mr. Dunkirk bowed. “Your daughter is a credit to you, sir.”