“Oh, a decade or thereabouts. As long as I have.”
Rotherfeld nodded. “I don’t mind saying, Swynford impresses me. My father knew his. Great man, the late Swynford.”
“Yes. That is, I didn’t know him well, but I dined at his home a few times. Swynford and I are old friends.”
Fletcher was unsure of how to make an impression here. Dropping Swynford’s name likely helped. He opened his mouth to say something inane, but Rotherfeld said, “I imagine that now that Lady Louisa and I are engaged, you and I will be seeing more of each other. She tells me that you and she are like siblings.”
“Yes,” said Fletcher. “That is, our parents were close friends, and we played as children. I have often served as her escort to social events, although I expect now that you are getting married, you will take over that role. But yes, Lady Louisa and I have long been friends, and I care about her a great deal. I am honestly thrilled that she has found such an upstanding man to be her husband. She seems happy and I am happy for her.”
“Kind of you to say.” Rotherfeld smiled. “I hope…that is, it would please me if you and I were to become friends. I know we do not have much in common aside from our mutual affection for Lady Louisa, although I hope you can assure me that your affection for her is brotherly.”
“It is.”
“Good, good. Perhaps we can have you to dinner in the coming weeks.”
“I would like that a great deal.” This almost felt too easy. “Louisa did not tell me. When is the wedding?”
“Oh. Next month. I believe we have secured the fifteenth for a wedding at St. Paul’s.”
“Lovely.” The fifteenth was five weeks away. “I look forward to it.”
Rotherfeld nodded. “Yes. Good. I believe we understand each other, then.”
“You have no reason to trust me, but I want to assure you, I only wish for Louisa’s happiness. I hope that is clear.”
“Yes. It is. I…thank you, Greystone. Your relationship is a bit unorthodox, so I am glad to hear you clarify it. Louisa has insisted there is no romantic spark between you, but as you are not blood related and you are still unmarried, I did worry. Perhaps I need not.”
“I endeavor to prove that you can trust me.”
Rotherfeld shook Fletcher’s hand again. “I do hope that turns out to be the case.”
Another gentleman approached and asked for Rotherfeld’s attention, leaving Fletcher to retreat to his friends. Hugh and Lark and joined Owen at the fire.
“Well?” Owen asked.
“He seems amenable to friendship. Invited me to dine with him and Louisa.”
“All right. Good first step.”
“What is happening?” asked Lark.
Owen explained the friendship scheme. Fletcher mentally promised to try, although even now, he felt annoyance creeping up his spine as he watched Rotherfeld move through the room.
Lark let out a sigh. “The politics of gender are really something.”
“This is just how it is,” Fletcher pointed out. “At any rate, I intend to be Rotherfeld’s greatest friend.”
Lark saluted him. “Godspeed.”
Chapter Three
Daniel Woodbine, the Duke of Rotherfeld, had done everything right. He’d courted Louisa in the most formal, polite way possible, taking her for walks in the park or slow rides around London in his carriage, always with a chaperone present. He kept conversation to safe topics—news of the day, books Louisa had read, art she liked. Their engagement would last about six weeks, overall, which felt hasty, but Louisa’s own father insisted it was all right.
Nothing inappropriate had happened.
Was it wrong for Louisa to have wanted it to?
She had needs and desires, after all. She knew it was unladylike to express them, but she’d spoken with her married friends and knew some of their secrets. The small ache in her chest whenever Daniel walked toward her, when he smiled at her…that was something important. She was fond of him, yes, but he was attractive, too, and if sometimes she wondered what it would be like to kiss him or what he looked like under all his layers of clothing, well, that was perfectly natural.
