Henry nodded. Anger bubbled up inside of him. What was Rafe into now?
The Dowager Countess of Pemberton cleared her throat, fanning herself with a bright crimson fan. “It was shared in the gossip columns he has been frequenting several gaming hells while he awaits news—”
“He is to be promoted to captain. It’s all but done. I am very proud of my brother.”
Miss Lucy Skeffington, nodded, folding her book in her lap. “Is that so?”
“Of course.”
The other guests quieted, suddenly interested in the heated exchange.
“Those of us with siblings understand,” Tilly interjected. She tossed down her cards and jumped from the table, drawing Henry’s attention, and perhaps some of his ire away. Though he didn’t need her to rescue him. He could talk to people; it was only that he didn't wish to be near them.
What a miserable business a house party was. Stephen really did owe him a large favor.
“I think we should sing hymns,” Lady Beatrice Trowbridge said. She adjusted her cap, as if proud she had spoken to such a large group.
Groans erupted from around the room.
“Very well, charades?”
“Miss Brennan, we have all recently survived a snowstorm. Can we do something that does not involve gambling away our futures?” Mr. Drake scratched at his bushy blond brow. “Besides, you are the actress in the room. That gives you an unfair advantage in charades.”
“Dancing,” Mr. Haskett said, clearing his throat.
Henry hated how the man filled up the doorway. It didn’t take much to gather Mr. Haskett wasn’t from Mayfair. He apparently ruled Drury Lane as if he were the upright man in some East End gang.
Tilly whirled around to face Mr. Haskett. “Dancing?” She quickly peeked at Henry, then blushed. “No, perhaps I can read again…”
“No, no,” Miss Skeffington said, clapping her hands together. “A dance or two would be lovely.”
Tilly nodded. “Very well, dancing. That would be grand. I will be at the piano.”
“No, no,” the duke interjected. “Allow me. You are a guest at this house party as well, Miss Brennan, please enjoy yourself.”
The duke pushed aside the table and sofa, clearing a path for dancing. Everyone lined up, everyone except Henry.
“You must dance, Lord Devlin,” the dowager duchess said. “We need an even number.”
“He doesn’t dance,” Tilly interjected.
Henry’s body stiffened at her outburst, suddenly overcome as her cheeks reached a deeper shade of pink and embarrassment washed over her.
“How do you know, Miss Brennan?” Mr. Haskett asked, strutting into the room, staring down Henry. “Haven’t you just met?”
“I don’t frequent house parties, either, Mr. Haskett,” Henry added. “One is allowed the freedom to guess now and again, aren’t they?”
“Don’t dance? Don’t attend house parties?” Mr. Haskett folded his arms and shifted his weight, somehow making himself appear larger than he already was. “Why not?”
“Too crowded.” Henry ignored the small giggle from Miss Skeffington, instead refusing to tear his gaze away from Mr. Haskett. It seemed as if the man was challenging him.
“But you are here, and we are all so infinitely grateful,” Lord Garvey yelled, throwing his hands up and cutting the heavy tension settling into the room. “Come, come. Let’s dance. I’ll ring for more port. I can’t stand an argument. I would have agreed to host my family otherwise.”
Laughter broke out, and in the merriment, Henry found himself stabbed with a pang of regret at being here rather than with his family for the holidays. He hadn’t seen his mother or his sister Mari since last summer. And Rafe, though they wrote often, it had been nearly two years.
Henry shuffled over to the others, aware of Mr. Haskett’s glare. He didn’t trust him, and he was mad that the man was even Tilly’s acquaintance. She deserved better. He treated her horribly. But they had agreed to be a secret, so Henry would do his best to remain distant and disinterested when it couldn’t have been further than the truth.
Except for dancing.
“Everyone line up,” the duchess called out, clapping her hands.
Stephen groaned behind Henry. The feeling was mutual.
The duke struck the first chord on the piano.
“Oh, I love this dance,” Miss Skeffington called out.
Henry hadn’t the faintest idea about the dance, but he knew he didn’t wish to make a fool of himself in front of Tilly. He mirrored his body to match the rest of the male partners and steadied his look across the room. Looking at Tilly now, while Mr. Haskett studied Henry, was only inviting trouble.
Lord Garvey beside him crossed to his partner, and they skipped around Henry. Never once had he ever wished to skip. He cursed on his breath and watched, knowing he would have to do the same with Lady Beatrice in a moment. She smiled meekly at him, tapping her toe to the upbeat piano song.
When it was his turn, he skipped forward, reaching out for Lady Beatrice and spinning her before skipping back to his spot in the line.
Tilly smiled at him, mouthing “cheer up.”
He frowned, annoyed that she had the constitution for such dancing and cheer. But that was quickly washed away as he realized he would be leading not Lady Beatrice, but Tilly down the line.
All evening tension had been simmering between them. He should have left this morning as planned, but he hadn’t fulfilled his promise to Stephen. And he didn’t wish to leave Tilly behind with Mr. Haskett, even under Mrs. Craven’s selectively watchful eye.
