“First of all, I keep my damned mouth shut,” he drawled. “Even with you.”
“I am annoyingly aware of that.”
“I keep my mouth shut with you because you do not keep confidences of that nature well. To speak to you is to announce an affair to the world.”
“I do not gossip about your lovers.”
“No, you don’t. Because I rarely tell you about them.”
“It is hell that I have to tolerate your smugness, but you are all I have at the moment. You said, ‘first of all.’ What is second of all?”
“I require that the lady also not speak of it to friends.”
“Does that work?”
“Perhaps half the time at best. It normally reduces the number of friends to whom she confides so the entire ton is not told within a day or so, however. And she swears them to silence, as they do in turn when they pass it on. That means that, while it circulates, it is never actually talked about.”
“Clever. I think. I, however, truly need it to be unknown, not merely unspoken.”
“As you said, that is complicated. If the lady agrees on the need for such discretion, she will indeed not confide in friends. However, you must never be seen together. You do not enter her home nor she yours, even on a call. You do not dance with her at balls. You meet away from Mayfair. It will require a second residence. One with few servants, and only those most trustworthy. In my opinion, such drastic measures are only worth it for the most extraordinary woman.”
Stratton looked from Brentworth to Gabriel and back again. “If a woman is worth all that trouble and is so extraordinary, and she does not have a husband, why not just marry her?”
“You are charming, Stratton. Isn’t he charming, Langford?”
Stratton bristled.
“Langford is talking about a servant,” Brentworth said. “He is not going to marry a woman of unknown background and family. You didn’t, so why would he? We will both take our turns at the altar, Stratton, but we will do as you did, as our duty requires, and marry correctly for our stations and titles.”
“You are not obligated to do so.”
“Are we not? What an astounding notion. Are you becoming a radical, Stratton?”
Gabriel turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Another residence should be easy enough.” Much like he had temporarily in Harry’s house. Only Harry had returned now. “Limited servant involvement I can probably arrange. I will dislike it if I have to pretend she is nothing to me when in public. That seems harsh.”
“The alternative is every woman who sees you both will guess the truth. Have no illusion that they can’t tell. It is an extra sense they are born with,” Brentworth said.
It was the safest way, but he still did not like it. He did not want Alice—Amanda—to think he found her an embarrassment. If he had his way, he would drape her in silk and have her on his arm in the park and at parties and the world be damned.
She could not risk that, however. She was not a society widow, or some peer’s bored wife. She was an unmarried woman in service to Lady Farnsworth. Any hint of impropriety and she would be out, with nowhere to go and no reference. Untouchable by any decent household. Destitute, as she’d said in the theater.
“You could always spare the woman any risk and simply choose not to pursue her,” Stratton said. “Retreat is the path of honor at times.”
“That is true. I could do that. Thank you for reminding me.”
“But you won’t do it, will you?”
Of course he wouldn’t. Impossible now. She was in his head too much. He would have her, but he would also take care of her contentment and her reputation and her security. He was a gentleman, after all.
* * *
The carriage brought Lady Farnsworth home, then continued on with Amanda inside. She was glad to be alone, finally, and free of the forced gaiety of the last two hours. She needed to think.
Langford’s discovery of her identity worried her. What might he learn? Could he discover what she was doing? Might he interfere with her plan? The questions rushed, creating a small panic.
She forced some composure and tried to examine this turn of events with a clear head.
He knew very little now, but if he continued with his intentions, he might learn more. Who knew what a duke could unearth if he started asking about someone?
