How delicious...
The drawing room was almost as packed as the hall and the windows stood open to cool the air, but so many people, some not the cleanest, created a smell to rival the one she’d noticed on her first visit. How long ago that seemed, but it had been only a week.
She was plotting a course toward a window when she saw someone waving—a brown-haired lady with shining eyes at the side of a handsome dark-haired man.
Ariana sped in that direction. “Hermione! How do you come to be here?”
Lady Faringay seized her hands. “Uncle Edgar wroteto me about the item in the paper—he’s a great gossip—and I convinced Faringay we must come to give you support. We’d no idea it would become worse. Oh, this is my husband. Faringay, my friend Lady Ariana Boxstall. And you, I suspect, are the wicked Earl of Kynaston.”
She teased so charmingly that Kynaston smiled back. “Only by reputation.”
“Then you should have more care to your reputation, sir!” Hermione shot back.
“Especially given this unpleasant entanglement,” Lord Faringay said. He spoke pleasantly enough, but Ariana caught an edge. Not another man feeling he should kill someone for this, perhaps with Kynaston in mind.
“And all my fault,” Ariana said with emphasis. “I was so curious to see Mr. Peake’s Egyptian treasures.”
“But I alerted you to them,” Hermione pointed out.
“Then I used the incident to deter a suitor, deliberately not mentioning that my companion was with us. Oh,” she said, looking around, “where is Ethel?”
“I think she stayed in the library,” Kynaston said. “I’m sure she can fend for herself.”
Ariana supposed that was true, but she hoped Ethel wasn’t prey for unscrupulous men. It was odd to think of her as vulnerable, but Ethel wasn’t accustomed to venturing into tonnish ways on her own.
“Where are you staying?” Ariana asked her friend.
“Here,” Hermione said. “We could escape the heat by going to our room.”
“Alas,” said Kynaston, “if Ariana and I disappear, some will think the worst.”
“Do you want to retire, my dear?” Faringay asked, with concern.
“Don’t fuss.” Hermione rolled her eyes at Ariana.“I’m increasing and he’s hovering. Oh, don’t you, too, start thinking about poor Princess Charlotte! That doesn’t predict the fate of all women.”
Lord Faringay obviously didn’t share that opinion and Ariana hated to think how Kynaston was reacting.
“Should you be traveling?” she asked her friend.
“No,” said Hermione’s husband.
“Why not?” Hermione argued, and it clearly wasn’t a new subject. “As our local midwife said, if a carriage ride could shift a babe in the early weeks, there’d be a lot fewer bastards in the world.”
“Hermione!” Faringay protested.
“Isn’t it true?” Hermione demanded, sending her husband a saucy glance. His lips twitched and it was easy to see the love and trust between them. That, of course, would make any loss all the harder to bear. Ariana turned to Kynaston to see how he was reacting to the topic. He was surveying the room as if he wished he were far away.
Ariana turned back to the Faringays. “Wise or not, I’m grateful to you for coming. Tomorrow Lady Cawle will be at home for morning visits to give yet more curious the chance to ogle me and decide if I’m wanton. If you’re fit in the morning, perhaps I could visit you then.”
“I haven’t been sick at all as yet,” Hermione said cheerfully, “so of course. We have much to catch up on. My family, your family. Your adventures.”
She flashed a look at Kynaston, clearly implying he was an adventure destined to the altar. Ariana gave a little grimace to head that off. Hermione was capable of saying something direct and to the point.
“We should circulate a little more,” she said. She linked arms with Kynaston and steered him away. “I’msorry about that,” she said quietly, “but one can’t avoid all mention of childbearing.”
“I know that.”
“Perhaps in time...”
