“It wasn’t a lie.” Her nut-brown eyes widened an inch, expressing her earnestness. “I was indeed riding in Lady Buntley’s carriage before stepping out to meet you.”
“That’s true.” Jack tilted his head toward hers. “And it’s not as though you need a chaperone. You’re a married lady, after all.” He waited for her reaction to this last comment, testing her knowledge of his reputation.
“Of course not!” She let out a high-pitched giggle—a habit she seemed to have developed during their last outing. “Lady Buntley assures me you are the utmost gentleman.”
“Did she?” Jack murmured and silently thanked Lady Buntley.
The crowd thickened when they reached Hyde Park. They began to stroll east on the busy footpath next to the Serpentine. Jack took advantage of this audience by becoming overt in his flirtations with Lady Astyr. She responded in kind, giggling repeatedly and turning every shade of pink while remaining oblivious to the whispers and disapproving looks cast in her direction. Perhaps she was too green to comprehend the maliciousness of society’s gossipmongers, but Jack was not. He understood that news of his latest conquest would be on the lips of every person in Mayfair by day’s end.
As they passed the myriad of carriages on Rotten Row, chock full of sharp-eyed high society ladies and gentlemen adorned in the latest fashions, Jack slipped his arm in the crook of Lady Astyr’s elbow and murmured, “I’ve been working on an epic poem. My publisher says it is going to be a sensation.”
“I would so love to read it,” she said, her voice breathy.
“And I’d love to show it to you. My home is five minutes away on Half Moon Street, and you are welcome to call any time.”
“I’d like to see it right now.” She gazed up at him, her face earnest and her cheeks devoid of blushes.
“Are you certain?” Jack had not expected her immediate consent, and such an easy conquest gave him pause. If she went with him, he wanted to make sure she harbored no doubts.
“Absolutely,” she said, cinching her grip on his arm.
“Well, who am I to deny a lady her wish?” Jack shrugged off his concerns and told himself that being married to a cold gun like Sir Richard had no doubt left the poor woman starved of affection and desperate for a little romance.
Keenly aware of people’s open stares, Jack escorted Lady Astyr toward the park’s exit. Society would snub Lady Astyr for her indiscretion, but Jack’s smoldering hatred for Sir Richard overpowered any pity he felt for her. And thoughts of Ottilie’s betrayal cemented his determination to humiliate his uncle in the worst way possible. Sir Richard had sent a beautiful, intelligent young woman to make an utter fool of him, and now he returned that favor by publicly cuckolding the man.
Jack glanced over his shoulder at the horde of promenaders and smiled. There was little doubt in his mind that he would hear from his uncle within twenty-four hours.
*
“Thank you forcoming.” Ottilie sat with Henry across from her stepfather inside a small, country tearoom. “I took the liberty of ordering our tea ahead of your arrival. I trust you still like a good pork pie.” Ottilie gestured to the meat pie on the table. A bowl of peas, a basket of scones, a large trifle, and an array of tarts accompanied the pie.
“It looks delectable, and I am always delighted to see you, my dear.” He glanced at Henry, and Ottilie thought she saw a flash of consternation pass over his face. “And you, Lord Hudsyn. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you, sir. I trust you are well.”
“Indeed.” He nodded, pouring himself a cup of tea.
Ottilie cleared her throat. “How is your—family?” She could not bring herself to sayMrs. Lewis—a title that once belonged to her mother.
“Busy as always. Mrs. Lewis has just now embarked on redecorating the house—again.” He flashed a weak smile and ran a hand over his lined forehead.
“And the babies?” she asked, handing him a plate heaped with thick slices of golden-crusted meat pie and a pyramid of sweet peas.
“Rambunctious little fellows,” he tittered and took the plate from Ottilie’s hands. “The house is a constant buzz. I barely get time to think.”
He looked exhausted, and Ottilie noticed he’d aged considerably in the past two years. But she could not bring herself to sympathize with him. He’d chosen that selfish woman over her mama, and now he would have to live with her. “Well, I am pleased to hear they are thriving,” she said.
Mr. Lewis shifted in his seat. “I should have liked you to see them, but with Mrs. Lewis’s remodeling, things in the house are upside down.”
“Of course.” Ottilie obliged her stepfather with another stilted smile.
“But, enough about me.” He straightened his shoulders as though readying himself for a blow. “What have you come all this way to tell me?” He shot another look at Henry. “You two are not engaged—are you?” The tremor in his voice alarmed Ottilie.Why is he afraid?
“Heavens, no!” Henry exclaimed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Mr. Lewis shrugged, and his face relaxed into a sheepish smile.
“I came here to ask you about my father,” Ottilie said, anxious to get to the heart of the matter.”
