“Please send them up and bring some refreshments.” She rose to her feet to greet the three people who came into the drawing room. “Good afternoon, Olivia, Lady Brenton, Mr. Walcott.”
Olivia came over to kiss her. “I do apologize for my lateness, but I met Mr. Walcott and Lady Brenton in the park, and we were so busy comparing notes on the opera singer we heard yesterday evening that I quite forgot the time.”
Mr. Walcott bowed low. “Lady Smythe-Harding, Lady Allegra.”
“Good afternoon.” Carenza offered him her hand. She knew very little of him apart from the fact that he was vaguely related to Julian.
“I believe you are acquainted with Lady Brenton?” Mr. Walcott asked.
“Yes, of course.” Carenza curtsied to the lady in question.
Lady Brenton was an exquisite dark-haired beauty who always made Carenza feel like a cart horse.
“We share many of the same interests.”
Mr. Walcott tittered. “One of them being Julian Laurent.”
Carenza went still. Had Julian’s intervention in her affairs gotten out? Or, even worse, had he revealed to others that he was bringing her to heel?
She quickly became aware that everyone was looking at her and tried to regain her usual calm. “How so?” she asked politely.
Lady Brenton didn’t look amused. “Mr. Walcott is jesting.”
“Hardly, my dear,” Mr. Walcott said. “All I meant was that Julian was best friends with Hector Smythe-Harding and that you are also a good friend of Julian’s.”
“Please excuse Mr. Walcott, Carenza,” Olivia intervened. “He is not an admirer of Mr. Laurent, as Julian was left a fortune by his godmother that Mr. Walcott believes should have come to him.”
Mr. Walcott attempted a tight smile. “Even if what you say is correct, Mrs. Sheraton, it is hardly the place to discuss it. I can assure you that I am still pursuing this matter through the courts.”
“I thought they recently ruled against you again,” Olivia said sweetly. “And that there were no longer any grounds for further appeal.”
Carenza tried not to smile as Mr. Walcott’s jaw worked and he struggled to speak. “As I said, ma’am, such matters are better left to those who have a greater understanding of the law and are not merely regurgitating rumors read in the press.”
If Mr. Walcott thought his remarks would cow Olivia, he was soon disappointed.
“Regurgitate?” Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an interesting word. I will have to share your opinion ofTheTimesjournalism with those I know who work there.”
“I merely meant that a particular reader such as yourself, ma’am, might not have a complete understanding of the topic.”
“Ah, yes, because women cannot be expected to understand such weighty matters,” Olivia said.
Mr. Walcott looked relieved. “Exactly, ma’am.”
The parlormaid arrived with the tea tray and they all sat down. Carenza took the opportunity to steer the conversation into less stormy waters. Lady Brenton said little, her attention busy cataloging the contents of the drawing room.
Her gaze lingered on the portrait of Carenza’s family over the mantelpiece. “Your mother doesn’t like to come up to town?” she asked Carenza.
“No, she prefers life in the countryside, as does my father.”
“I suppose that is for the best.” Lady Brenton set down her barely touched tea. “Considering.”
Carenza was beginning to wish she hadn’t chosen to receive her callers, what with Mr. Walcott fencing with Olivia, and Lady Brenton’s avid curiosity about her parents.
“Our parents are very happy together,” Carenza said. “Aren’t they, Allegra?”
“Indeed,” Allegra valiantly backed her up. “They have been married for thirty-five years and are still blissfully in love.”
Lady Brenton shuddered slightly. “I assume your brother intends to marry at some point?”
