“I had not given it much thought.” That was a lie. I thought of little else but my impending nuptials since that horrid day in father’s study. The wedding night included. The prospect of such…activitiesfilled me with more dread than anticipation. Kate never understood my perspective on such things.
She was not yet sixteen the first time she fancied herself in love. In the five years since, she found no less than two dozen men to be the handsomest of her acquaintance, and she never went more than a month without rhapsodizing about one pair of fine eyes or another. Her marriage to the viscount had been something of a surprise to me. Instead of months of admiration, I heard almost nothing of him.
I understood their first meeting to be something of a disaster. An incident with a glass of lemonade had me both laughing at her expense and embarrassed on her behalf. He must have found the incident charming; after all, he chose her for his bride.
I had been a poor friend during her debut. Sophie had mere months left when Kate was presented, and the following year was spent in mourning. While circumstances, not desire, kept me from her, I now lamented my lack of support.
Her husband was something of a mystery to me. Though I called often, he seemed to take little notice, looking to his wife for introductions on more than one occasion. I was not overly fond of the man, but I had never met a woman more determined to marry for love than Kate. If the viscount met her approval, my opinion did not signify. She was a romantic sort, my friend.
I never felt such things when I looked upon gentlemen—the girlish flutterings and hopeful longings of first love. Even those generally thought handsome by the ton held little appeal. I could observe what was handsome in each part, but I felt none of the butterflies or pounding pulses Kate described when the whole was put together. I had always supposed that my husband, whoever he may be, would be the exception. Now, that seemed unlikely.
“Oh, but you must have! It’s because you haven’t yet danced together. Dancing is just the thing to induce all sorts of romantic notions!”
“I am sure you are right. Is that what happened with you and the viscount?”
She carried on without mentioning her husband. “He’s turned down the invitation to my ball Friday night. You must press him to change his mind. Then you will see, it’s just the thing.”
“I am sure he has pressing plans that cannot be changed, Kate. His Grace is a very busy man. Besides, I am not certain I will be able to attend.” I had not yet managed to finish repairing the gown I had ruined in a fit of pique, and none of the others were suited to such an occasion.
“Oh, but you must come! I need you there, Jules! I won’t be able to manage it without a friendly face. And all that besides, His Grace wanted you to have a season, to make connections. How can you do that when you never leave this settee?”
In addition to a lack of tact, she had the infuriating habit of always being right.
“I will discuss it with Father.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Five
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON - FEBRUARY 16, 1814
MICHAEL
Richard Dalton was dodging me.
A month ago, it was rare that he missed a night in my club. Now I had neither seen nor heard from him in more than a fortnight. The man had never possessed a coin he wasn’t desperate to wager; he had to be gaming somewhere.
At first, I was confident he’d make his way back to my club after a few days without a game of dice. After a week with no sighting, I had to admit I had underestimated him. I was forced to exert some effort to locate him, sending men to his town house and his known associates’ estates. I even directed them down to my old gaming hells in Piccadilly. It was unlikely an earl would be seen there; those hells are reserved for second and third sons with too many coins and too few responsibilities. Titled gentlemen preferred my establishment.
Avoiding me may have been the smartest thing the man had ever done. Attempting to have the match thrown was certainly not.
It was unlikely I would see my money. One couldn’t get blood out of a stone, after all. Still, I had a reputation to maintain. I couldn’t be seen to be forgiving debts, and I certainly could not allow cheating to go unpunished. If he got away without penalty, there was no telling what advantages the rest would try to press.
Intelligence finally came from an unlikely source. Once again, I found myself attending the now weekly supper at my brother’s house. Kate insisted on the effort. I suspected she appreciated my talent for directing her mother-in-law’s ire away from herself. It was unclear whether Agatha’s barbs were losing their sharpness or whether familiarity was toughening my skin, dulling impact.
The more time I spent with Kate, the more I was certain my brother had done far too well for himself. She was thoughtful, attentive, funny, and all-around delightful. Her husband watched his wife ill-used by his mother with nary a reproachful comment. I would have checked him if I had even the slightest belief that my efforts would not have the opposite effect. Our precarious relationship, held together entirely with manners, ensured that any attempt to correct the man would be met with ire.
As was the usual pace for these suppers, Kate chattered on about the ton gossip while I dodged well-placed insults from Agatha. All the while attempting to shield the new viscountess from her predecessor’s censure.
I began to suspect Kate had matchmaking efforts in mind with her gossip. Married women adored matchmaking. In my experience, well-settled women were always trying to create more women well-settled in matrimony. Try as I might, I could not convince her to focus her efforts on Tom. True, he was barely out of the school room and more than determined to ingratiate himself with every actress in the country, but he had the name.
For all her wonderful qualities, Kate had an unfortunate tendency to forget my parentage. Or, not so much forget, as fail to understand why such a thing would signify. She may have been willing to overlook the situation, but the peerage certainly wasn’t about to wed their daughters off to a degenerate, gambling bastard.
“—and so I was telling Jules that she simply must attend the ball I’m hosting on Friday next.”
“Jules?” Hugh interrupted; I would soon bless my brother for his inattentiveness.
“Lady Juliet Dalton. You’ve met her several times now.” Kate’s face was pinched with bit-back irritation. It was an expression usually reserved for Agatha.
