“Then we shall leave as soon as you have done your duty with Lady Worthington.” She smiled fondly at her husband before turning back to Branford. “And you—I have not finished withyou! I expect you to call on me in the few next days or I’ll be extremely cross with you.”
Branford gave an exaggerated bow. “Heaven forfend that I bring such a ghastly fate down on my head, madam. I shall present myself at Berkeley Square without fail.”
As he watched them depart arm in arm, he felt an odd twinge on sensing the elemental bond beneath their casual bantering.
Then he turned on his heel, determined to get down to business.
“How very interesting,”remarked Lady Ashton softly as soon as she and her husband were out of earshot from Branford.
“What’s that, my dear?
“Sebastian and Miss Chilton.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” responded Ashton. “I don’t know what he is up to, but I can’t imagine a less likely pair. You know Sebastian—he’s probably just deucedly bored this evening and acting on some strange whim.”
“Hmmph.”
“Really, my dear.” He made a face. “I assure you that she is not at all the type of lady who would attract Branford.”
“Ye heavens, Henry, I’m well aware that Miss Chilton is not at all like the ladies he’s been taking to bed, but?—”
“Cecilia!” sputtered Ashton.
“Oh, pish—don’t squeal like a stuck pig. Why on earth do you men think that we ladies know nothing about what goes on in the world?” Lady Ashton cast a mischievous look his way. “Why, I’m sure the gossip we ladies exchange in the drawing rooms at teatime is every bit as titillating as it is at your gentlemen’s club—and every bit as au courant.”
Ashton had the grace to look discomfited.
“I have met Miss Chilton on several occasions,” added Lady Ashton. “She is a most interesting young lady.”
The musicians began to tune their instruments for the upcoming waltz.
“You must trust my judgement on this, my dear,” muttered Ashton as he slipped his arm around his wife and drew onto the dance floor. “I have known Sebastian for years, and if you think that he has the least interest in a young lady like Miss Chilton, then you have windmills in your head,”
“Oh? You don’t think men find intelligent ladies attractive?”
Flustered, Ashton looked at her warily. “Come now, Cecilia, don’t put words in my mouth.”
Raising a brow, she waited for him to continue.
“It’s just that, er …” He seemed to realize that he was trapped.
Looking down, he began to fiddle with the fobs hanging from his watchchain to forestall any further conversation. But under his breath he muttered, “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Lady Ashton only smiled to herself.
Four
Branford returned to the supper room and approached Alex. She was still engaged in an animated conversation with her companion and took no notice of his presence—or the notes of the scale that announced a new set of dances were about to begin.
The fellow, however, paled slightly and stammered something that caused her to stop in mid-sentence.
Alex turned to look over her shoulder, and it seemed to Branford that he saw a look of irritation flash in her eyes. “Is it really time for that dratted dance?” she asked. “Perhaps you could find another partner, milord— at the moment I’m engaged in a very fascinating conversation with Mr. Simpson.”
“No, Miss Chilton, I could not,” he replied. I’m sure Mr. Simpson will oblige you by waiting to continue his discourse until you return.” Shifting his stance, he cocked a brow at the gentleman in question.
Simpson turned even paler and nodded vigorously. “Of course, of course.” He swallowed nervously. “Be assured, Miss Chilton, I shall be more than happy to wait for you to return.
Alex shot Branford a black look before muttering, “Oh, very well.” But as she began to rise, she seemed to realizethat her interest in the conversation had caused her to neglect her manners. “Forgive me,” she added abruptly, “but I have forgotten to introduce the two of you.”
