Guy was at another table speaking to a patron I vaguely recognized. “Are you, perchance, talking about our waiter?” She had unquestionably been flirting with him.
“No, he is an Oscar, therefore I doubt he’d be interested.”
“I thought his name was Guy.” I inspected him before I lowered my gaze, not wishing to be caught staring.
Olivia began to laugh. “No, Oscar is code for, well,” she leaned in close and whispered, “queer.”
I leaned back, my hand racing to my chest. “Is he indeed? How do you know?”
She merely shrugged. “I have a sense. Call it intuition.”
“But you aren’t sure?” Like everyone else, I had read about the trial of Oscar Wilde, the famous writer who was infamously arrested for sodomy. I glanced around once again to make sure our conversation remained private. While most gossip was harmless, his life might be in danger if anyone overheard her comment. “Unfounded accusations could land the fellow in jail,” I warned.
“Indeed, you are correct.” Frown lines appeared between her brows, and she exhaled a long breath. “I was merely speculating. I couldn’t bear the thought of being the catalyst to destroy his reputation for the sake of gossip. Pray forget I said anything.”
I reached over and laid my hand on hers, giving her a forgiving smile. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
With a grin, she shook her head. “The man I was referring to is sitting at the table in the far corner. He is one of your neighbors and was quite attentive at the anniversary party.”
“I thought I recognized him from somewhere,” I said. Guy must have seen me staring, for he made his way to our side. I kept the smile firmly in place, unable to keep my mind from wandering while Olivia peppered him with questions about our entrées. I studied Guy while he spoke, gesticulating with every word. If he was, indeed, queer, I wasn’t sure exactly how that would work. Although I suppose pleasuring his lover would entail some of the same practices Olivia and I had spoken about. It was a very interesting question, one I would never learn the answer to.
“I have been giving it much thought and if you would like, I think we should go to the conservatory after we finish dining and speak with them about the application process.” Olivia nodded at her own idea.
I stared at her for a long moment, my mind spinning with uncertainty. My first instinct was to decline her offer and do a bit of research on my own first, but part of my problem of late was shutting people out who only wished to help me. It was difficult for me to ask for help—even though I was always offering to help others. Pride was a fickle beast. Either I could allow life to pass me by or jump in with both feet. “I think I am mad to agree, but yes, let’s do it.”
A smile bloomed across her lips and she laid her hand on my wrist. “Excellent.”
I glanced about and lowered my voice, “No one can know. Promise me you will keep this between us.” I didn’t want Rex or Flynn or anyone else to know my plans until I could find out what applying curtailed. There were so many uncertaintiesand I wanted definitive answers before I could even contemplate moving forward with a long forgotten dream.
All in all, my luncheon with Olivia had proved very enlightening. Our earlier discussion had been eye-opening, the details of the intimacies performed between lovers titillating my imagination. There was the small matter of getting up the nerve to follow through with seducing my husband.
I was no longer a little girl under my father’s thumb and if I wanted to salvage my marriage, I would have to shed years of suppressing my desires. It was one thing to theorize, and another to put the action into play.
Regardless, only I could change my life. I simply had to put myself out there and see where it would lead.
Chapter Five
Lord Rex, Duke of Smythington
I entered the breakfast room with shoulders aching from sitting at my desk last night in my office at Parliament. The select committee I was leading for the Russian delegation had run later than I liked, and I stretched my sore back. The maid on duty curtsied to me, and I returned her smile. The next two days contained back-to-back meetings until Thursday, my day to tackle the ducal duties which had managed to pile up over the past month. I was tired simply thinking about the amount of work on my plate.
Eleanor was at the breakfast table in the sunny room, my favorite in my London residence. She didn’t look up when I entered but kept her head down, a letter clutched in her hands. Her smooth brow furrowed, she scanned the missive with intent.
“Is something amiss?” I lowered my head to press a kiss on her forehead in affection like I did most mornings. Whoever had written to her had bold handwriting with precise strokes.
