It also reached Patience; she glanced down. "Myst!" she hissed. "Stop bothering Mr. Cynster."

"She's not bothering me." Capturing Patience's gaze, Vane added: "I enjoy making females purr."

Patience stared at him, then blinked. Then, frowning slightly, she turned back to her plate. "Well, as long as she doesn't bother you."

It took a moment before Vane could get his lips back to straight, then he turned to Edith Swithins.

Not long after, they all rose; Minnie, with Timms beside her, led the ladies to the drawing room. Her gaze on Gerrard, Patience hesitated, her expression alternating between consternation and uncertainty. Gerrard didn't notice. Vane watched Patience's lips set; she almost glanced his way, then realized he was watching-waiting. She stiffened and kept her lids lowered. Reaching out, Vane drew her chair farther back. With a brief, excessively haughty inclination of her head, Patience turned and followed in Minnie's wake.

Her pace wouldn't have won the Guineas.

Dropping back into his chair at the head of the table, Vane smiled at Gerrard. With a lazy wave, he indicated the vacant chair to his right. "Why don't you move up?"

Gerrard's grin was radiant; eagerly, he left his place for the one between Edgar and Vane.

"Good idea. Then we can talk without shouting." Edmond moved closer, taking Patience's chair. With a genial grunt, the General moved up the table. Vane suspected Whitticombe would have kept his distance, but the insult would have been too obvious. His expression coldly severe, he moved to Edgar's other side.

Reaching for the decanter Masters had placed before him, Vane looked up-directly at Patience, still lingering, half-in and half-out of the door. Obviously torn. Vane's eyes touched hers; coolly arrogant, he raised his brows.