His disappointment in who she turned out to be was now outweighed by the anger he felt over her actions and her involvement with Case. She was obviously an accomplished actress. It wasn’t like Case to be swayed by a beautiful exterior. He was usually quite adept at seeing people for exactly what they were.
Making Case see reality was not a task he relished. His brother must feel some affection for her, it had been obvious in the way he attended her the night before. He clenched his fist in anger. He would not let this woman play his brother for a fool.
On a sudden impulse, he stood and pulled on his overcoat. “Edward!” he bellowed.
Edward materialized in the doorway. “Yes, your grace?”
“I am going out. Inform my brother when he arrives that I was called away unexpectedly and will return shortly.”
Edward nodded. “Shall I summon your carriage, your grace?”
Justin thought for a moment. “No, I’ll take my mount.”
“Very good, your grace.” He turned to leave.
“Edward?”
The butler turned back and gazed enquiringly at him. “Is there something further, your grace?”
“Do you happen to know Lady Penroth’s address?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Justin slowed his horse to a walk as he turned onto Mount Street. As he approached number seven, he saw a carriage parked on the street in front of her house. A moment later, Lady Penroth came hurrying from the house. The driver let down the step, opened the door for her, and she quickly climbed in.
The stylish, expensive town coach pulled away. On the door of the carriage was not the Penroth coat of arms or family crest. No, an intricately engraved J was emblazoned in silver. The daring of the woman knew no bounds.
He sat for a moment atop his horse, slightly disappointed that he had missed her. The previous evening, he had been far too entranced by her beauty to adequately collect his wits. This morning, however, he suffered no such malady and had fully intended to give her a piece of his mind.
Sighing in frustration, he turned his horse around and headed back to his townhouse. There would no doubt be another day to confront the hellion.
###
At promptly four o’clock, Jillian knocked on the door of Lady Winthrop’s residence and presented her calling card. A solemn-faced butler ushered her into the sitting room, and moments later the Dowager Countess swept in. She was a tall, imposing woman. Her silver hair was swept into an elegant coiffure and an ostrich feather plumed hat topped the pile of hair. Jillian had never understood theton’s fascination with feathers. They dotted every bonnet this season, the larger and more grandiose, the more in demand they became.
While the countess was not heavily jeweled as were many of the society matrons, her dress was very attention getting. Simply put, the color was awful. Not quite pastel, yet lacking the boldness of a brighter shade, the yellow dress had a greenish hue, resembling the contents of a chamber pot after someone had cast up their accounts.
Jillian rose and offered a deep curtsy. “I am honored by your invitation, my lady.”
“I am so glad you accepted,” the countess said in her booming voice. “It was short notice, so I do hope you forgive me. Sit down my dear, I shall ring for tea.”
While they waited for the serving tray, the dowager looked at Jillian. “I do not think I ever got the chance to personally extend my condolences on the loss of your husband, Lady Penroth.”
Jillian offered a tight smile. “You are kind to think of me, my lady.”
“Call me Bea,” she offered graciously. “May I call you Jillian? I can’t think you enjoy being addressed as Lady Penroth.”
Jillian nodded her ascent, amazed at the countess’s intuition.
They were interrupted by the entrance of a maid bearing a tray of tea and cakes. She set the refreshments down on the table next to where the dowager Countess sat. The Countess poured two cups, handing one of them to Jillian. Silence settled over the two women as they sipped their tea. Lady Bea eyed Jillian over her cup. “You didn’t care much for your husband, I gather.”
Jillian nearly choked on her tea.
“Pardon my bluntness my dear, at my age I find it tedious to pussyfoot around. So I’ll get right to the point.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jillian replied, at a loss as to how to respond to the dowager’s statement.
“Come now, Jillian.” Her tone was gentle. “You aren’t the only woman who has ever suffered a bad marriage, and I am loath to say you won’t be the last.”
