She turned to sit at the long table and realized she wasn’t alone. Two men sat there, digging into plates of eggs and kidneys, and they had their eyes fastened on her.
The blond one—not a blonde like her, but golden-haired—had the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen. He spoke first.
“Mrs. Aster?” he said, loud enough for the innkeeper to hear. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Yes, please join us for breakfast,” the other man said, who had light brown hair and chestnut-colored eyes. He looked like a picture-book English nobleman and he had a suit of clothes to match. When little girls imagined the prince that they would grow up and marry, she was certain that they imagined this exact man, although his storybook features were a bit bland for her taste.
Catherine had a strong suspicion that these men were John’s friends. She just hoped that they really were his friends and not bent on revealing their scheme to anyone.
She summoned her strength and strode over to the men.
“Good day, sirs,” she said, taking a seat. “Usually, a lady does not acknowledge men who address her in public without an introduction, but I understand that you’re friends of my husband’s?”
Both men looked a little taken aback by her assuredness.Good.
“It is not so often we meet the wife of such a dear friend so unexpectedly,” the brown-haired man said, with a smile that, while not exactly menacing, had a bite to it.
“Indeed,” the blond said. His smile held much more actual warmth. “We hadn’t the slightest idea he was married.”
“Gentlemen,” Catherine said, not finding their game very amusing. “You still have not introduced yourselves.”
“I’m Montaigne—as in, Earl of, and this—” he pointed to his companion “—is the Marquess of Leith.”
Of course, she knew their names from the scandal sheets. So, these were two of John’s legendary friends. Three out of the four Rank Rakes were currently lodged in this very inn.
“What are you doing here?” She was truly perplexed.
“Same as you,” Leith said.
“Our presence here is purely coincidental,” Montaigne clarified. “We had no idea you and Edington would be here.”
Catherine didn’t appreciate Montaigne’s use of John’s real name. Leith frowned at him as well.
With a scowl, Leith rose and went over to the innkeeper. Whatever he said, the man left the room. They had it to themselves.
“There,” Leith said. “Now we needn’t be concerned about being overheard.”
Catherine nodded. Although grateful for his discretion, she was still wary.
“John said he had met friends. I have read much about you in the society pages.”
Once the words were out of her mouth, she felt herself go crimson. They surely knew about her from the same source. And such reports were sure to have been unflattering.
“Nothing good, I hope,” Montaigne said, flashing a smile and revealing a perfect dimple.
“We know about you too, Catherine Forster,” Leith said, quietly.
No one said anything for a solid thirty seconds.
Montaigne broke the silence. “You call him John. No one calls him that but Lady Henrietta. And his father, but—as you know—he is no longer with us.”
“Neither of us wanted me to call him Forster,” she said in return, very gravely, but when she met the earl’s eye, he laughed. His levity in the face of her seriousness made her giggle. The Marquess of Leith looked at both of them like they were insane.
“Come on, Leith,” Montaigne said to his friend. “It’s a fair comedy. And, if she can laugh about it, so can you.”
At this moment, the innkeeper brought her tray and then disappeared once more.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Leith said, brusquely, not heeding his friend’s attempt at levity, “what do you win from this arrangement?”
