“You would think so. Several of them, however, have availed themselves of that which we drink, several times over. I am keeping my eye on one of them, lest she pass out cold before the afternoon is over.”
“Where is Langford?” Adam used the question as an excuse to cast his gaze around the garden until he spied Lady Clara.
“Out there somewhere, taking your advice rather too seriously to flirt with all the young girls.”
“He was born to flirt, and they are so appreciative that he cannot stop himself.”
“He had better make sure one of them does not drag him behind a shrubbery, or there might be hell to pay. Are these girls getting bolder, or am I getting older?”
“A bit of both, I think.”
“Speaking of flirting, where is your lady fair?”
“Over there beside the fountain, talking with Hollsworth and his wife.”
“Shouldn’t you be there too?”
“All in good time.”
“I suppose that first you need to assess the terrain before mounting an assault.”
“There will be no assault. I am a gentleman.”
“Call it what you will. As for the terrain, there is a delightful folly in the far northern corner, amidst that grove of fruit trees. A little temple to the goddess Diana. It is very cool back there, even on warm days, so it is unlikely to draw many of my guests.”
Adam eyed the fruit orchard in question. “I remember it, now that you remind me. The statue of the goddess is far nicer than one expects in a garden.”
“It is ancient Roman. I should probably move it to the gallery.”
“Lady Clara is a cultured woman. She probably would want to see it in its current location before you do.”
“Do you think so? Regrettably, I have all these guests to attend to and cannot direct her there. Perhaps you will tell her about it for me.”
“I will try to remember to do that, assuming she and I have cause to talk again.” He set down his glass, then headed down the terrace, toward the fountain.
* * *
Clara extracted herself from a lengthy discussion regarding the new fashion for very high necklines and spied the Earl of Hollsworth standing near the fountain. His countess smiled amiably in her direction, so she joined them.
Hollsworth stood very straight despite his advancing years. Thin white hair rose in wisps from his head. Thick spectacles caused his eyes to appear very small. He smiled a greeting while the diminutive, gray-haired countess welcomed her.
Hollsworth had been a friend of her grandfather and later her father. A quiet man, he observed more than contributed at social gatherings. Her father had told her once that Hollsworth’s retiring demeanor meant people often spoke without realizing he listened. Her father considered him one of the most well-informed peers as a result.
Lady Hollsworth gave Clara’s dress a thorough examination. “Well done. I am so glad to see that you and your sister have ventured out and chosen to put aside full mourning. Young women should not have an entire year removed from their budding lives, and I find it odd that such a custom is becoming fashionable. Don’t you agree, Charles?”
Lord Hollsworth just smiled and nodded.
Clara devoted her attention to the countess, flattering her own fashionable ensemble. She had just finished when the earl straightened even more, enough that it drew his wife’s attention.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, looking past Clara. She glanced askance at her husband, whose face turned to stone. “Surely he is not coming here.”
Clara looked over her shoulder. Thehein question was Stratton, who appeared to be walking in their direction.
“He is an old friend of Brentworth,” she said, even though the duke’s presence did not need explanation.
The earl’s jaw shifted. The countess peered up at him, concerned. “Why don’t you go admire the plantings, Charles.”
With a stiff nod, the earl walked away.
