“I don’t know. Do you?” Nellie stared at her, surprised at her rudeness. Charlotte’s mouth looked pinched. Nellie only wanted happy memories tonight. “Where are those footmen? Aunt Bea needs champagne.”
Charlotte caught her arm as she stepped around her. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The Marquess of Thorburn died. He was gored by a buck when out hunting. Drusilla is now a widow.”
“My goodness. What a horrible thing to happen. When was this?”
“News is slow to reach us in the country, is it not? The funeral was held in Northumberland several weeks ago.”
Nellie’s heart sank. “Poor, Drusilla.”
“Poor?” Charlotte laughed. “Thorburn left her rich as Croesus. She’ll wear her widow’s weeds, but I doubt that will stop her. Fanny, her personal maid, is my maid’s sister. I get to hear all the gossip. Since their marriage, Thorburn kept her in the country. Drusilla has been a virtual slave to the old man. She cannot wait to return to London.” Charlotte giggled. “Fanny said the marchioness is making a list of eligible gentlemen. She wants a virile lover until such time as she can decently remarry.” Charlotte paused and eyed Nellie. “Shouldn’t have too much trouble finding one. She’s still young and very beautiful.”
“I wish her well,” Nellie said. “Now, you must excuse me. Poor Aunt Bea is waiting for her drink.”
“Yes, you must attend to Queen Bea.” Charlotte reminded her of a satisfied cat. “Fanny said Shewsbury’s name was on Drusilla’s list,” she added as she turned away.
Nellie watched the spiteful woman move through the crowd as her mind whirled. Was there any truth to it? Could there still be something between Drusilla and Charles after all this time? Would he have asked Nellie to marry him if he’d known Drusilla was free?
*
When the supperdance was called, Charles went to claim Nellie. It took him a while to find her. He finally discovered her in an alcove, engaged in an intense conversation with Marian.
“My, you two ladies look serious,” he said as he approached. “Have we run out of champagne?”
They both looked startled. Hadn’t Nellie been aware it was their dance? Was she so unaffected by him?
“A ghastly notion.” Marian recovered her composure with a grin.
Nellie laughed. “Papa has stocked enough in the cellars to sink a ship.”
The dance floor began to fill. He offered Nellie his arm. “My praise goes to your parents. A delightful affair.”
He led her onto the floor. “Has something occurred?”
“No. Mr. Braithwaite has lost his glasses. He’s blind as a bat without them.”
“Poor fellow.”
“Poor us. He plays the violin.”
He laughed. “Dear me.”
“I see you have charmed my Aunt Bea,” Nellie said as they waited for the first notes of the waltz. “It is not easy to do. She is very particular.”
He smiled. “Your aunt likes to talk about money.”
“She never concerns herself with society’s dictates.”
“I don’t see why she should.”
Nellie’s eyes warmed. She was obviously fond of her aunt. “I am totally in awe of her. Aunt Bea believes that on reaching a certain age, a lady might do as she pleases.” She laughed. “Perhaps it’s an excuse to behave disgracefully in her dotage.”
Her husky laugh captivated him. One of her many charms. He looked forward to discovering more of them, slowly, on their wedding night. “Your father and I have yet to fix the date of the wedding. It won’t be easy to arrange. The prince’s secretary must be consulted. He will wish to attend, as will the prime minister. The cathedral must be booked, or we won’t be able to marry until next year. We must discuss the honeymoon. I fear it may have to be delayed because of the war.”
“Yes, of course.” Nellie broke eye contact, and he sensed an almost physical withdrawal from him. Surprised by the change, he wondered what had so concerned her and her sister that they shut up like clams when he joined them.
