A distinct voidenveloped Jack as Ottilie slipped from his arms at the end of their second dance. He clasped the fingers of her gloved hand and escorted her off the floor. “Would you care for a refreshment?”
“That sounds lovely, but I had better err on the side of caution and get back to my aunt. I am certain she has developed one of her famous headaches and wants to leave immediately.”
Jack’s gaze shifted to Lady Hudsyn, who sat stony-faced and rigid on her chair.
“I’d best escort you safely back then.”
“I realize it is expected of you, but I think we should make an exception in this case. Let us say goodnight here. I think I can manage to walk the distance of ten feet on my own, despite what society believes.”
“I am certain you can,” Jack said with a laugh. After witnessing the strength and fortitude women of all ranks exhibited during the war in America, he could neither respect nor understand society’s rules. “Until tomorrow,” he said and watched as Miss Hamilton made her way back to her aunt.
“Charming, isn’t she?”
“Undeniably.” Jack turned to see Lady Buntley standing beside him. “I am only sorry she has to leave already.” Jack caught Miss Hamilton’s eye as she turned to glance at him before leaving the ballroom.
“I’d say she has perfect timing.” Lady Buntley smiled slyly at Jack. “It might interest you to know Sir Richard and Lady Astyr arrived while you were preoccupied with Miss Hamilton on the dance floor.”
“Did they?” Jack eyed the vivacious, middle-aged viscountess whose passionate liaison with Brandt had proven to be more than convenient. Not only did she pass on the news of Sir Richard’s arrival in London, but she agreed to introduce Jack to the new Lady Astyr, giving him the chance to connect with his uncle’s wife.
“I think I will steal Mrs. Astyr from her husband and show her my beautiful garden,” Lady Buntley said. “Perhaps, you will desire some fresh air in a minute or two.”
Jack tugged at his bow tie. “Yes, it’s growing rather warm inside.”
He watched as Lady Buntley slinked across the room and approached a group of ladies and gentlemen conversing together. He recognized his uncle’s rigid posture immediately, and homed in on Sir Richard’s hawkish face, taking in the beady eyes and sharp nose that looked as if they’d been created with the express purpose of sniffing out the enemy. His hair had turned gray and was balding in front, and he’d grown mutton chops and a full mustache as if to compensate.
Jack’s stomach churned. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long that the reality of it was difficult to comprehend. He clasped his hands behind his back to avoid clenching his fists.The time of reckoning is approaching.
Jack watched as Lady Astyr drifted from her husband’s side in the company of Lady Buntley and the two made their way onto the patio leading to the garden. He snatched a glass of port from a passing tray and swallowed it before meandering outdoors after them.
“Mr. Bastin.” Lady Buntley beckoned to him as soon as he stepped out onto the spacious brick patio.
“Lady Buntley.” Jack feigned surprise and approached the two women.
“You must let me introduce you to Lady Astyr. She’s recently arrived in London from Nottinghamshire.”
“How wonderful.” Jack’s smile caused his uncle’s wife to flush pink. “What brought you to Mayfair?”
“She is newly married,” Lady Buntley said.
Jack forced a smile. “Allow me to offer my congratulations.”
Lady Astyr looked the picture of misery, like a woman who awakens, after the fuss and flurry of wedding planning, to find herself imprisoned in a lackluster marriage. Jack knew the type well. This was going to be almost too easy.
“Mr. Bastin is also new to Mayfair, yet he’s already one of our most famous residents,” Lady Buntley said.
“Oh?” Lady Astyr tilted her head like a curious bird.
“He’s the author of the wildly popular novelThe Renegade,” Lady Buntley explained. “Have you read it? It’s simply fabulous.”
“I’m not one for reading novels, I’m afraid.”
Jack showed no reaction to her remark. He had long ago mastered the art of keeping a straight face. “What do you enjoy reading, may I ask?”
“I rather like poetry.”
“It so happens I’m in the process of working on an epic poem, soon to be serialized.”
“Are you, indeed?” Lady Buntley opened her fan and aired her face. “How divine!” She winked at Jack. “Oh! Excuse me, please. I have hostess duties to perform.” She floated off to converse with a nearby party of guests.
