James paused, considering how much to reveal. The basics wouldn’t hurt. “It’s a home for young women, er, in trouble and who have nowhere to go.”
“Young women—” Shock moved across Ryleigh’s features. He leaned in. “You mean for prostitutes?”
“No, of course not.” He hoped. “It’s quite impressive what they’ve accomplished,” James went on. “A couple of the young women are from the theater. And, just today, they acquired a seamstress.”
“I helped acquire the house, of course,” Ryleigh said. “Rebecca just didn’t give me all the details, apparently. It’s something I promised when I married her.”
“Gabriella mentioned something. I think—and I’m just guessing—that before the shelter, the duchess and my wife have been supplying money and employment for those who only have a desire to better themselves.”
“I’ll be damned.” Ryleigh threw back the entire contents of his whiskey and signaled for more. A smile tugged at him, surprising James. “How does one get angry over that? Of course, Rebecca should have just told me.”
“Yes, well, that was my exact sentiment.”
“I take it things are progressing more smoothly on the marriage front?” Ryleigh said with a sly look in his direction.
The sudden topic change caught James unaware. Heat clambered up his neck. With an iron will that hadn’t quite deserted him, he managed to keep it behind his neckcloth, the one time he was grateful for the choke-holding cravat. “It’s, er, quite satisfactory.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m profoundly relieved I wasn’t forced to call you out.”
James couldn’t decide whether the man was jesting.
“It’s difficult being the oldest of five siblings, all female but yourself.” He appeared to be speaking introspectively. He took another sip from his glass and went on. “I’ve worried over all my sisters. Gabriella, the most, I suppose, as she’s the youngest. But in looking back, she was likely the strongest of them all.” He glanced at James, amusement sparking. “I fear you shall have your work cut out for you.”
“Thankfully, I’m a quick study,” James mumbled into his own glass. He met Ryleigh’s eyes “Unfortunately, for you, our wives have joined this venture together. There will be no stopping them, you know.”
“Not an intolerable situation,” Ryleigh shot back.
James held up his glass to Ryleigh’s newly replenished one. “Here’s to a newer better England with our wives leading the charge.”
Ryleigh clinked his glass against James’s. “Hear, hear. And wives that promise to keep us on our toes. Something I never thought I’d say.”
“Hear, hear,” James echoed.
Thirty
The ballroom was a smothering crush by the time Gabby and Rebecca made their way back to the main floor. She lost Rebecca in the fray and Gabby found herself face-to-face with Rose’s husband. Her stomach took a nervous dip.
Stanford took her hand, tucking it in the crook of his elbow. She resisted the urge to yank away. Everyone knew they were related, and his manner was unquestionably above board. “Lady Huntley. Just the person I was looking for. A dance?” He’d anticipated well. Escape was near impossible without creating a scene.
“Of course, Stanford. Where did Rose disappear?”
“The ladies retiring room, I believe. Didn’t feel well all of a sudden.”
A shiver went through Gabby. “How… unusual,” she murmured. Rose’s constitution was as stout as a Highland Scot’s.
Despite the crowd, Stanford heard her. “That it is. She resents you, you know. It ate at her at having to settle for a baron when her youngest sibling married an earl.” Bitterness writhed from him, though his voice disguised it well.
Gabby tossed her head. “What of Claire? Her husband is a viscount.”
“For some unfathomable reason Rose has no issue with Lady Beaumont. I wonder why that is,” he mused.
Ha! Clearly, he didn’t know his wife as well as he believed. With no options before her, Gabby was forced in allowing Stanford to lead her to the parquet. Blast, it was a waltz.
“Is Huntley aware of your loose tongue?”
She jerked him to a stop at the edge of the dancefloor. “How dare you?” she bit out.
His expression marbleized. “You pose grave questions, Lady Huntley. If the wrong person should overhear you—”
