“No, I’ve vouchsafed the play anytime this past week.”
“Does she know of the play?”
“To my knowledge, she has not fallen to it yet, though she is a bright woman and one who could.”
Branstoke squeezed his shoulder. “I pray she stays in ignorance a while longer.”
“You think it would matter?”
Branstoke eyed him pityingly. “I know it would.”
“Ready, Justin,” Freddy called out gaily as he sanded the document he’d contrived.
“After you, gentlemen,” he said suavely.
“As you proposed the bet, Mr. Tretherford, I suggest it is only right you issue the first summons,” Branstoke suggested as he settled back in his seat.
“Done.” Tretherford turned to the door where the butler was stationed, hooking his thumbs in the small pockets of his waistcoat while throwing his shoulders back. “You, sir, bid my wife, the Honorable Mrs. Carlton Tretherford, to come here.” He turned back to the company, a smile on his face and a slight swagger in his step.
The butler returned swiftly. “Pardon, sir, but she says she is busy at the moment.”
A shout of laughter sealed Tretherford’s discomfiture. He flung himself into his chair, murmuring imprecations upon his new wife’s character.
“Now to you, Freddy.”
“Jovis, entreat my lovely bride-to-be to join me now.”
“Entreat, yet. Surely she will come,” St. Ryne teased.
“Entreated or not, more than I can say for yours,” snapped Tretherford.
Raucous laughter followed Tretherford’s denouncement with quips as evidence of ready wit traded among the gentlemen. It was several moments before anyone noticed the butler’s return.
“I’m sorry, sir, she will not come as she is repairing a torn flounce?—”
“A fair answer,” Freddy said.
“—but demands?—”
“Demands? Oh worse and worse,” St. Ryne exclaimed. “—to know your humor that you bid her here.”
“My dear Freddy, how will you endure it? No matter, rest assured you will have things straightened by the nuptial event. Jovis! Tell my wife I desire her company.”
“I know her answer,” claimed one of the gentlemen from the end of the table.
“What?”
“Save yourdesiresfor the sheets, she will not come.”
Elizabeth observed the butler leaving the room for the second time. Why would he visit Aunt Romella and Helene? What did he want? Did someone send him?
“Excuse me, Lady Jersey,” she said, “I must speak with my sister a moment.”
“Yes, you do seem a bit preoccupied and no doubt find my chatter boring.”
Elizabeth swiveled round to face Lady Sally Jersey again, realizing she was on the verge of making a tremendous social gaff with one of the lights of society. “Oh, no, I beg your pardon, it’s just that—you see I must—” A garbled explanation fell from her lips.
“Oh, run along, my dear. My bark is often worse than my bite. I shall just go harass some of the matchmaking mamas whoare here. I enjoy watching them maneuver to secure cards to Almack’s.”
