He smiled. “May I take you out for a drive on Sunday? I’m keen to show you more of London.”
Pleased with the idea of seeing him again so soon, she glanced uneasily toward the door of the box, unsure of her aunt’s reaction. “If my aunt agrees.”
“As an engaged couple, I should think a carriage ride to Hyde Park would be acceptable. It’s hardly clandestine. At three o’clock? We will be too early for most of theton, but there are always riders exercising their horses and ladies promenading in the park.”
Lord Strathairn entered with his sisters. He took the seat beside Hetty. “Do you enjoy the play, Miss Cavendish?”
“It’s excellent, my lord. Mr. Keane is spellbinding.”
“I’ve always found him rather overrated.”
“Oh, surely not. He’s slight in stature, but he portrays the character with such force.”
He nodded before turning back to answer a question Lady Eleanor had put to him.
Hetty clutched her fan. She could find no fault with his manners, but Lord Strathairn’s eyes were a steely gray. And she sensed that his thorough scrutiny of her was almost a habit and came from considerable experience.
Chapter Twelve
Guy accompanied Johnin his quest for a high stakes card game on Saturday evening. They entered a private house which was a gaming hell run by Lord Bromehurst. Guy did not share John’s interest, but as the earl’s houseguest, he was happy to keep him company. He drew the line at courtesans and opera dancers, however. John accepted it good-naturedly but expressed surprise. After all, Guy wasn’t married yet.
Guy was somewhat surprised himself. There was a time when he would have enjoyed such women’s company. His life was in such a state of flux, he had no intention of complicating it with courtesans. And the image of Hetty’s sweet face seemed to get in the way. He had no idea what was in store for him, but he needed her in his life. And that meant dealing as honestly with her as he could while withholding anything that might encourage her to leap to his defense. While he admired her loyalty and bravery, he wasn’t going to allow her to become his comrade-in-arms.
He followed John through the elegantly furnished rooms where a myriad of candles clustered on polished tables and a pair of fine Italian crystal chandeliers shone down. As they observed the play at the hazard, loo, and faro tables, ladies roamed the rooms in their evening gowns sipping champagne.
Strains of Handel swirled above the hubbub from a small orchestra as couples strolled to and from the adjoining supper room.
A dark-haired lady approached. “You are Baron Fortescue, no?”
Guy bowed. “Forgive me, I haven’t had the pleasure.”
The Frenchwoman gave him a flirtatious look and fluttered her fan beneath dancing dark eyes. She spoke to him in French. “Countess Forney, Lord Fortescue. My husband, Count Forney, wishes a word with you.” She took a card from her gold beaded reticule and held it out to him. “Would next Monday at twelve o’clock be suitable?”
“I don’t believe I know your husband, Countess.”
“That is true, but he knows of you, my lord.”
Guy bowed. “Merci.” He ran his thumb over the engraved lettering, considering whether to call on the Frenchman. Then he tucked the card into his pocket as she moved away.
John placed his hand on Guy’s arm. “It would be wise not to further the friendship with either Forney or his wife.”
“Can you tell me why I shouldn’t?”
John cocked a brow. “The count is mixed up in bad company.”
“I’m sure you offer good advice, John,” Guy said, but his curiosity was piqued. “Forney most likely seeks the company of another Frenchman.”
John looked back at the lovely woman who strolled about the tables dressed in a revealing gown. A pink garter at her knee showed through the embroidered cloth. “Perhaps it’s his wife who is interested to see more of you.”
Guy followed John’s gaze. Countess Forney countered with a knowing smile and placed a gloved hand to her throat, drawing attention to her shockingly low décolletage. Her bodice skimmed her nipples and the rounded globes of her breasts shimmered pearly white in the candlelight.
Guy nodded to her. “Shall we move on, John?”
They entered the inner chamber, the air stuffy with beeswax, the rancid sweat of excitement and possibly fear. In this room, the players spoke little, and the atmosphere fairly crackled with expectation.
“Fortunes can be won and lost in one night,” John said in an undertone. “Large estates signed away.”
“What is this game they play?” Guy asked.
