It almost made her teary-eyed. “And you’re the best brother. All will be well for you. I know it will.”
He smiled briefly and hurried off. Back to Phyllis, who was standing quietly in a corner, waiting for him. She should seem like a wallflower, but it was more as if she were an island of good sense in the midst of giddiness. She’d help Norris be patient.
Ariana turned back to Kynaston—and found him not there. Not off with the brandy again!
She made her way through the crowd, keeping up a smile and exchanging light comments, until she saw him conversing normally with two gentlemen and a lady. She sagged with relief, and then realized that some time apart would help break the impression that they were devoted. They were supposed to be almost strangers portrayed in a casual moment. What was more, if he was on view, she could escape without any suspicion of an assignation.
She went in search of Hermione and found her still by the window in the drawing room, her husband devotedly at her side.
“I really don’t like the heat,” Hermione confessed.
“Perhaps we could slip away for a gossip.”
“Go,” said Faringay. “Anything that will get you out of this heat and crush.”
Hermione smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek, then led Ariana out of the room by a back way to a set of stairs.
“Perhaps the greatest inconvenience of increasing,” she said, going up, “is his fussing.”
“You can’t blame him.”
“I can only hope the world will have regained sanity in seven months’ time.”
Hermione led the way to a bedroom and lit a candlefrom the fire. As there was only one plain chair at the dressing table and another upholstered one by the fire, she scrambled up onto the high bed and patted the space beside her.
Ariana joined her, saying, “It must be ten years at least since we sat like this to share confidences.”
“Is that what we’re going to do? Lovely. I have missed your company.”
“As I have missed yours, especially when you were in such straits and had to move north to live with your sister. You never rubbed along well with Polly. But now you’re married, and so well! He seems an excellent specimen, and completely devoted.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Sometimes too much so. But tell me all about Kynaston.”
“That we’re mere acquaintances?” Ariana tried.
“The truth.”
Ariana leaned her head back, trying to sort through complex words, but simple ones would have to do. “I love him. It’s a damnable inconvenience, because he’s determined never to marry again.”
“Again?”
Ariana looked at her friend. “So you didn’t know, either. He thinks it strange that I didn’t, but I’ve never been interested in society gossip.”
“I, on the other hand, loved to read accounts of balls and assemblies, but I skipped over any births, marriages, and deaths. Except for the casualty lists.” Hermione’s younger brother had died in the war. “But if I’d happened to read of the death of the Countess of Kynaston, it would have meant nothing to me. Or you, I assume.”
It would be so easy to agree. “I remembered him from my first season.”
“The Great Disaster? I don’t remember you mentioning him.”
Ariana had never told anyone the embarrassing story, but she realized she couldn’t now because it would show Kynaston in a poor light. “He was a young god,” she said. “Gloriously handsome and charming.”
“He’s retained his looks, at least.”
Ariana smiled wryly at the omission. “And he played the lute.”
“That would make anyone memorable.”
“Yes. He played a few days ago at an evening party we held. He’s out of practice, but it was still special. For everyone, I mean.”
