“However,” she continued, a smile playing on her lips, “I knew what he was doing. He was flirting with me, but not so that I would react. It is just as well, for I know his sort and it would never work on me.”
“No? Even after so long by yourself?”
“I am a good wife,” she said firmly. “I would never do something so dishonorable, whether you believe me or not.”
“Given the circumstances, would you?”
She laughed bitterly, her gaze sliding from his.
“I do not know. I do not suppose that I would. This is all quite the mess, is it not?”
“That is certainly one way of putting it,” he sighed.
His eyes settled on her book, and she prayed that he would not take it to read for himself. If he were to know, she could never look him in the eye again. He already thought that she was a badly behaved bluestocking, and if he were to stay, then he would have to believe that she was worth staying for.
“So what precisely do you know about my friend?” he asked. “I am not exactly aware of any current gossip.”
“You will be pleased to know that it is hardly new. There is an irony to it, of course. Your wife cannot do anything scandalous, but your friend can rake across the country, and you are perfectly happy for him to do so.”
“Most gentlemen do.”
“I am aware of that.”
It was not a direct accusation, but enough for him to give her a look. She did not know for certain that that was where he had been, but there was nothing else that she could think of. He had to have hidden it from her out of shame, and what could be even half as shameful as that?
“You should know that what they say of him is not true,” Spencer explained. “It was something unfortunate that happened five years ago, and it continues to haunt him.”
“And did he do it?”
“I do not believe so.”
“Then you are a good friend,” she said gently. “You have that, at least.”
At that moment, dinner was prepared, and they left for the dining room. Anna felt rather improper, for she was not dressed for something so formal; she wore a simple pink gown, one that she found more comfortable than her others. They sat in all sorts of positions when reading, and Anna knew that once she began, she could sit for hours, and she preferred comfort over looking pretty.
It was a habit of hers after so much time had passed with her not having anyone to impress.
They had soup to start, and Anna tried to remember her etiquette lessons. She wished to surprise her husband andshow him that she was a perfectly respectable lady, whether he believed that of her or not. She took the correct spoon and ate in the most delicate way that she could.
“So,” he said after a while, “what of your friends? I have heard some things about them, too.”
“Unlike your friend, everything that is said of them is true,” she joked, though he seemed to take her seriously.
“I thought you might keep more proper company.”
“They are quite proper when they need to be. I shall remind you that one of them is a duchess, after all, and a respected one at that.”
“And the other two?”
“One has already been married, and is now a widow. The other is her sister. Believe me, they are not half as scandalous as you might expect.”
“A widow? How old is she?”
“Five-and-twenty. She was married off at eighteen, and by nineteen, she was alone once again. She speaks easily of it, but I cannot imagine it is nice to think about.”
“No, no, of course not. Does she have any children?”
“No, which makes her situation rather precarious.”
