“It is understandable because it is the only way to ensure she doesn’t sell out on you,” he said. “And in terms of, well, you know—you could do worse. Far worse.”
A ten count passed while Kevin accommodated that anyone had suggested such a thing, let alone Douglas of all people.
“Is this your wife’s idea?”
“Goodness no. She will be appalled by it. Miss Jameson is little more than a peasant in her view.” A smile barely formed. “I daresay Claudine would be apoplectic.”
Everyone would be. His father. His aunts. Maybe Nicholas. Quite likely Miss Jameson herself.
“Thank you for thinking,” Kevin said. “Of me, I mean. I have no plans of that nature, but I’ll ponder your suggestion.”
Bland as ever, Douglas rose.
“If you are joining the others, move the other port decanter away from Philip,” Kevin said. “He can barely sit up straight.”
Chapter Nine
Dolores had removed herself not only from the dining room but from the evening, so Rosamund did not have to suffer her presence in the drawing room. She soon learned that did not mean she would be spared other probes into her life and character, however.
No sooner had they all settled themselves than Lady Agnes leaned forward and peered her way. “Did you make that headdress you are wearing tonight?”
“I did.”
“Attractive. Perhaps a bit bold with your coloring. Why didn’t you use a lighter-hued purple for the ribbons? Ones that matched your dress?”
“Because if they were lighter, they would not be bold.”
Agnes veered back, as if astonished by any kind of boldness.
“It is what makes it distinctive, Agnes,” Minerva said. “If the ribbons matched the dress, it would be predictable and bland. And, at the risk of speaking of the obvious, that hue of ribbon brings out the color of her eyes so nicely.”
“I.See.” Agnes resettled herself on the divan, finding a queenlier pose. “From where did you say you hail, Miss Jameson? Oxfordshire?”
“Yes.”
“I have many friends in that county. Perhaps I have heard of your family.”
“That is unlikely.”
“One never knows.”
“I doubt my family had any contact with your friends, or your circle. As I said, my father was a farmer.”
Agnes chortled. “See how wrong you might be, Miss Jameson. In the country it is not unheard of for members of good society to associate with neighbor yeoman farmers and their families. There are many county events where they might be introduced.”
There was something to be said for getting this part out of the way.
“He was a tenant, Lady Agnes. I don’t think they rubbed shoulders much.”
Silence. Glances all around.
Rather suddenly, other conversations broke out. Walter’s wife, Felicity, addressed Minerva, launching into a description of some dress she had seen at the theater. Lady Agnes made it a point to talk to Douglas’s wife, Claudine. Rosamund got the sense that everyone was embarrassed. Whether for her, or about her, she couldn’t tell.
Minerva extracted herself from Felicity and came over to sit near Rosamund. “When they are all well engaged, we can slip out to the terrace. I have something to tell you.”
Whatever it was would have to wait, because Felicity followed Minerva over and also sat close by for some private conversation.
“I expect Dolores’s outburst at dinner surprised you,” she said. “I did warn you.”
