Dinner became an interminable affair. It seemed to take ages for the courses to be served. Beck found his impatience growing. He wasn’t one for sitting for long periods of time, and he did not like small talk about matters of no consequence. In between all the flirtatious comments and Violet’s many attempts to reminisce about the past, a man down the table from him wished to know where he’d gone to school.
Beck thought that a silly but common question. He answered “Faircote,” and reliably predicted the man would be unimpressed, which was true.
The man wondered if Beck was interested in where he went to school. Beck ignored him.
Ellisfield appeared just as annoyed with the dinner as Beck was. There was a tightness to his jaw and, most telling of all, he’d stopped drinking. Beck wondered if his dissatisfaction was caused by his father’s appearance or the fact that his mother, instead of offering the seat at the head of the table to her oldest son and the heir, had taken it for herself.
Finally, dinner was finished. The women wasted no time in withdrawing so that the men could enjoy their port in peace. Ellisfield jumped into that seat at the head of the table the moment his mother left it.
Beck was not interested in lingering.
Excusing himself by saying he felt a need to check on Lady Orpington’s servant, who had been injured in the fall off her coach, he escaped the room. What he really wanted to do was find Jem and hear what he’d learned over the past week. He wanted the rumors and the bits of gossip servants shared.
As he was leaving, Randell remarked he didn’t understand why anyone worried about a footman. Beck kept walking. Arguing with the entitled was pointless.
Out in the passage, he shut the door on the dining room and moved toward the grand hall. A footman had informed him that if he wentthrough the West Wing and out a far door, there was a path that led to the stables.
Beck had just reached the main hall when he overheard Lady Middlebury and Lady Orpington arguing in low, angry tones. They sounded as if they stood on the staircase closest to him. He took a step back, hoping no one came out of the dining room and caught him eavesdropping.
“I told you there will be no whist play this year,” Lady Middlebury said.
“You can’t stop us playing whist,” Lady Orpington answered. “We’ll play it if we like.”
“Not under my roof.”
“You are being ridiculous, Franny. Or do you fear losing to me?”
“What is the matter with you, Ellen? I’ve lost to you in the past. I am not that petty.”
“Then prove it. Let us play.”
“No.”
“Why are you denying me? Why are you denying my husband?”
“Andthereit is.”
“What?”
“Another accusation that I was unfair to Orpington.”
“You were.”
“And that I may have precipitated his death?”
“He was greatly upset by your—” Lady Orpington paused and then said almost defiantly, “Gloating.”
There was a heated beat where Beck could imagine Lady Middlebury not appreciating such an accusation. Then she said, a chill in her tone, “And so your answer is to betraymyhusband?”
“What does Middlebury have to do with this? Middlebury is not a player.”
“You don’t have a nephew.”
Beck sucked in his breath. She knew Curran was an impostor.
However, Lady Orpington didn’t flinch at the accusation. “I do. He was at the table tonight. Miss Purley found him quite entertaining.” Beck could have kissed her for her courage and aristocratic hauteur. She sounded convincing.
“I know who he is,” the marchioness assured her.
