“Indeed, I suppose you might not.” Another small smile, this one condescending. “His Grace is the sort of gentleman, however, who I should think required a great deal ofencouragementtoward that institution. He was, after all, a dedicated bachelor, by his own insistence to all who know him well.”
An eerie sense of trepidation unfurled down Virtue’s spine. There was a thinly veiled innuendo in the countess’s words, the suggestion thatshewas someone who knew Trevor well.
“We truly must return to the ballroom,” Pamela said coldly. “Pray excuse us, Lady Carr.”
“But we have only just begun our little tête-à-tête,” the countess protested, resembling nothing so much as a bird of prey descending upon her next meal. “Surely there is no need to make as much haste as was required for the duke and duchess’s nuptials.”
“Lady Carr, you are beyond the bounds of propriety,” Pamela snapped. “This introduction was solely to spare you the humiliation of a cut, and yet you are intent upon trampling upon the tattered remnants of my patience for you.”
Lady Carr pressed a gloved hand over her heart. “Good heavens, Lady Deering. You must forgive me my missteps. I merely wished to meet Ridgely’s bride.” She cast a dismissive glance in Virtue’s direction. “She has youth to recommend her, if nothing else. I simply could not fathom why Ridgely would bind himself in such a dreadful mesalliance.”
Virtue stepped forward, anger rising within her, making her stays go tight and her hands tremble. “Who do you think you are, madam, to speak as if I am not standing before you?”
“You don’t know, do you?” The countess gave her a condescending smirk. “Oh, my dear. You will learn soon enough. Ridgely has never wanted for female companionship, and I don’t doubt, having seen what a little mouse he has wed, that it won’t be long until he returns to me.” She paused, dipping into a mocking curtsy. “Good evening, my lady, Your Grace.”
With a flash of white and crimson, the countess turned on her heel, leaving Virtue and Pamela alone once again on the terrace. The altercation had left her shaken and startled. It was more than apparent that the Countess of Carr was one of her husband’s former lovers. And Lady Carr was not happy he had married Virtue. But her daring in calling Virtue a mouse and her suggestion that Trevor would return to her…
The twin affronts stung. Badly.
“Are you well?” Pamela asked softly at her side, touching her arm with a gloved hand, jolting her from her whirling thoughts.
“I am…yes,” she managed. “I think so.”
“I am so very sorry, Virtue. It was unconscionable of her to approach and ask for an introduction. I should have given her the cut, but I had hoped she possessed the manners and refinement to behave herself. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“She is very beautiful,” Virtue said, thinking again of the striking picture the countess had presented. She was a lovely woman, and she knew how to take full advantage of her every asset. Undoubtedly, she and Trevor had made a striking pair together, both unfailingly gorgeous.
“She is perfectly hideous where it matters most,” Pamela countered quietly, “on the inside. I should have been a better protector to you. I apologize again for that unfortunate showing. She is only bitter because she threw her cap at Ridgely, and in the end, he would not have her.”
“Lady Carr wanted to marry him?” she probed, needing to know more about this unpleasant mystery from her husband’s past and yet feeling vaguely ill at the notion of the details she may face.
Details she could not unknow, after learning them.
“Very much so. She has been a widow for more than five years now, and rumor has it that her widow’s portion has been stretched thin by her love of gambling. She was aiming to become a duchess.” Pamela gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You needn’t concern yourself with such a dreadful woman. The past is where it belongs, and you are Ridgely’s future.”
But how could the past be where it belonged when it had just approached her on the terrace and insulted her with the suggestion her husband would return to her. Return to her how? To her bed? Trevor’s reputation was well-known to Virtue. It ought not to have been a tremendous surprise to meet one of his former lovers.
And yet, the antagonism fairly dripping from Lady Carr’s pores… Virtue had not anticipated such a public clash.
“Was she his mistress, then?” she found herself asking.
Pamela’s face was pale in the torch light, her lips unsmiling. An altogether grim picture, when ordinarily she was so vibrant. “It is not for me to discuss.”
That was her answer, then.
Yes.
The Venus-like Countess of Carr had once been Trevor’s lover. And, it would seem, she intended to return to that position soon.
* * *
Something was amiss with Virtue.Trevor took note the moment he saw her returning with Pamela at her side. He had been conversing with his host, Viscount Torrington, idly keeping an eye on her as he chatted. He’d seen her accompany Pamela onto the terrace, presumably to escape the devilish crush of the ballroom, and he couldn’t blame them. He was sweating into his cravat beneath the blaze of these bloody chandeliers and the heat from at least two hundred guests all swarming within the confined space, rather like bees in a hive.
He watched her now as she moved through the revelers, his gut clenching. She looked pale, the set of her jaw telling him something had given her cause for distress.
Trevor turned back to Torrington. “If you will excuse me, Torrie, I do believe the next waltz belongs to my wife.”
The viscount inclined his head. “By all means. I should seek out Lady Torrington as well. She’s been twirling about on the dance floor without me for long enough.”
