Chapter 7
As it was, this most anticipated excursion into Lady Chaswick’s garden didn’t come about right away. While the baroness led the ladies out of the dining room, the gentlemen took more time than usual lingering over their port.
It went without saying that snifters would be lifted multiple times in honor of Stone Spencer’s recent marriage. And when the decanter of port ran out, the earl of Westerley brought out a flask ofwhisky,orwhiskey—Greys could never be sure which, as the man’s wife was heiress to the American Whisky king—to continue the celebrations
“Fresh glasses, if you please, my good man,” Westerley instructed the manservant standing behind him. “A toast to Lord Manningham-Tissinton is in order as well.” The viscount, Mantis, as they’d called him for years, had married the weekend before Spencer and Lady Tabetha’s nuptials. However, Mantis’s ceremony had turned out rather grisly, and the couple had departed for the country shortly after to enter mourning.
“Ah, but he is no longer Manningham-Tissinton. He is Crestwood now. And to acknowledge the passing of our friend’s father’s title, we might as well fill our glasses to the brim. Bring out my whiskey as well, Caruthers,” Chaswick said.
A few minutes later, amber-filled crystal glasses were clinking about the table in honor of the new Earl of Crestwood, and his countess, formerly Lady Felicity Brightley.
A glance around the room reminded Greys that, although he was not the only bachelor at the table, he most certainly was the oldest.
Blackheart remained a bachelor, of course, but as he was currently performing his butlery duties at Knight House, he had been unable to attend the evening’s festivities.
By the time the gentlemen finished with their port and rose to return to the ladies, they were a considerably less distinguished assembly than they had been when they’d entered the dining room earlier. Greys guessed that the ladies would have forgotten the walk in the garden by now. Even he felt the effects of the liquor as they ambled along the corridor to where the womenfolk awaited them.
However, the moment he stepped into the drawing room, his hopes were dashed by noises of excitement and anticipation humming at the gentlemen’s return.
Ladies fluttered amongst one another, some wearing shawls, others without, but most filled with an energy that would only be subdued by a stroll along the fragrant paths that meandered through the baroness’s gardens.
Dash it all.
“We have tapers for those who wish to carry one,” Lady Chaswick explained to the group of gentlemen. “And the ladies have already sent for their wraps.”
“Splendid, my dear!” Chase enthused, looking more besotted than any self-respecting gentleman should.
Greys resisted the urge to roll his eyes toward the ceiling in resignation. No wonder Diana had been left to bumble her way through society. Her brother was so enamored with his new wife that he was likely blind to all else—including, apparently, any dishonorable intentions some unscrupulous blighter might have while sniffing around his sisters.
Greys spotted Captain Edgeworth, standing beside his two comrades with his gaze fixed on Diana. Greys knew that expression. It was a predatory one. He supposed he’d sported it a time or two himself.
Straightening his shoulders, he turned to cross to where Diana was seated but was effectively cut off when a floral-scented obstacle materialized before him.
Lady Isabella.
“Pardon me.” Greys reached out to steady her, and she, in turn, settled her hand on his sleeve.
“My lord.” She glanced up at him and fluttered her lashes.
Ah, so this collision had been deliberate—one which he ought to welcome.
After almost a full year of research into her family history, he’d convinced himself that this pretty young woman would make for an excellent marchioness. And tonight, he could see the intelligence that lurked in her eyes, along with an obvious willingness for him to begin his courtship in earnest.
“My lady,” he responded, annoyed to catch sight of a most determined Edgeworth disengaging from his fellow soldiers to move stealthily toward Diana.
“I have my wrap already. It’s warm for late April, but one must never ignore the possibility of a cool breeze.”
“Indeed,” Greys mumbled as he shuffled his feet, but he failed to maneuver himself out of this young woman’s determined grasp.
A strong will would come in handy for her if she ever became his marchioness—whenhe made her his marchioness. But, unfortunately, tonight, he wasn’t inclined to appreciate her persistence.
If he could not make his way across the room alone, he would drag Lady Isabella along with him. Even from where he stood, he could tell by the pink in Diana’s cheeks that she was flustered. And as he and Lady Isabella arrived at her side, Diana sent him a grateful glance.
“Miss Jones, Edgeworth,” he interrupted the tête-à-tête, not caring that the captain looked annoyed or that Lady Isabella looked confused.
Because Diana was looking relieved.
Greys dropped his arm, effectively freeing himself from Lady Isabella’s grip, and then clasped both hands behind his back.
