He’d never pretended to love her. He’d never promised to be faithful. Had he?
A few guests were staring at her. Had they noticed as well? Had everyone been watching for this?
Her skin broke into a cold sweat, and she shivered.
“Come with me.” Felicity dragged her toward the exit where they could slip into the lady’s retiring room. “It’s nothing.”
But of course, it had to besomething.
Visions of the past week flashed in Bethany’s mind. Had she wanted him to love her so badly that she’d fooled herself into believing it was possible?
“Just because he read the note doesn’t mean he’s going to meet her,” Felicity insisted.
“He nodded.” Bethany thought she might swoon. But it didn’t make sense. The Chase she knew wouldn’t do this to her.
What was this? Oh, dear Lord, she was jealous. She was so jealous and angry that she wondered that she hadn’t turned green. “I feel sick.”
“Of course, you do. But it has nothing to do with Lady Star—“ Felicity halted her words abruptly when they entered to find the retiring room occupied by Rachel Somerset and Coleus and Hollyhock Mossant.
“You poor thing! Did you know she was back in London?” Coleus didn’t bother to explain who she was talking about.
“She is so very glamorous.” Delia stepped out from the corner where she stood near a potted plant.
Mortification washed through Bethany as she remembered what Delia and Rachel had overheard at Westerley Crossings. It was obvious that Delia was remembering too.
Chase. Oh, Chase! Yes! Yes, Chaswick!
Miranda, God. Miranda!
“It’s no wonder, really. Do you suppose they’ll pick up where they left off?” Rachel smirked at Bethany triumphantly. “Chaswick’s never kept his paramours secret and it’s well known he keeps more than one mistress at a house on Farm Street. Surely, you don’t believe the adage that reformed rakes make the best husbands?”
But Chase hadn’t been—a rake that was. Those ladies were not his mistresses. They were his sisters. Bethany clamped her mouth shut. The secret wasn’t hers to share, regardless of how badly she wanted to set the record straight.
“Don’t be mean, Rachel,” Coleus reprimanded the other girl. The Mossant sisters had always been lively, friendly young women, and not for the first time, Bethany wondered at their friendship with Rachel.
“I’m not being mean. I’m simply calling a spade a spade.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bethany lifted her chin, feeling a flicker of hope because she knew at least one rumor wasn’t true.
Surely, they were all mistaken in imagining he would go off alone with Lady Starling.
Without fail, Chase charmed the people around him. Of course, he couldn’t simply cut the widow.
Lady Starling.
The woman he’d intended to spank in the Willoughbys’ garden.
Just because he and Lady Starling were no longer lovers didn’t mean they could never speak to one another again. Lady Starling might even end up a friend.
She pictured the woman’s expression as she’d secretly slipped the folded parchment into Chase’s grasp.
And he had nodded in agreement.
Bethany crossed the room to where the water bowl and pitcher had been set out. Showing a calm she by no means felt, she wet her handkerchief with the cool lavender water and then dabbed it to her forehead.
When Chase had licentious thoughts on his mind, a wicked glimmer appeared in his eyes, making them twinkle. There had been no twinkling when he’d addressed Lady Starling.
He hadn’t been agreeing to a tryst. But what then?
