In truth, Edmund and Lady Anne picked at each other. They were like warring stags, locking antlers and too stubborn to turn tail. But this was not the time to point out how Edmund played a part in the combustible hostility between Lady Anne and himself. Phineas would have to make some changes to his seating plan.
“Well, Lady Anne’s chaperone and Lady Starling are coming, as well.”
William snorted into his glass of whisky. Edmund grunted. “You’re back with Lady Starling.”
“No, no, no,” Phineas said hastily. “Just repaying a social obligation. There’s nothing there at all, nothing whatsoever.”
Phineas must make sure there was no misunderstanding in regards to his interest in Lady Starling. Because Edmund would never do what Phineas had done to George. Edmund would never poach a mistress from a friend. The marquess must think Lady Starling was completely available and Phineas was totally unencumbered.
Which he was. Except for Edmund’s sister. But Caro was no encumbrance. She was his gorgeous bride-to-be.
“Fine,” Edmund rumbled. “I’ll be there. Don’t like to let a friend down.”
“And you’ll explain to Lady Caroline about the numbers? I wouldn’t want your sister to think I was excluding her.”
“Don’t worry. Not even I would be able to prevail upon my sister to come to your dinner party.”
Phineas didn’t like the sound of that. Had Caro told Edmund she didn’t like Phineas?
“My dinner party, in particular?” Damn, his voice was a trifle too high.
Edmund looked at him from under his heavy, dark brows. “Any dinner party. You know she’s shy.”
I know no such thing, my friend. And after this sure-to-be-successful evening, I am going to get her to show me again how little shyness she possesses.
But the dinner party was a calamity.
He had himself at the head of the table and Edmund at the foot. He put Horatia on Edmund’s right and Lady Lutton on his left. He himself had Lady Anne on his right and Lady Fitzhugh on his left. William and Matthew were in the middle chairs on each side of the long table.
Despite putting Lady Anne as far away from Edmund as possible, the dinner conversation was dominated by a shouting match between the two of them about the Peterloo Massacre.
Phineas tried his best to lead the conversation away from divisive matters. “Now, it’s a terrible pity those people died, but sometimes these things happen, right? Did you hear Fremantle died last month? In Naples?”
Lady Anne and Edmund both turned their fury on him together.
Meanwhile, Sir Matthew Elliott with the enviably flat abdomen was droning on to a drunk William Dagenham about how the policing of Paris was far superior to that of London and the capital would benefit from a centralized system which would lead to increased safety for the populace. Well, Sir Matthew addressed William with his words, but his eyes were glued on Lady Lutton cater-corner from him.
For her part, Lady Lutton was avoiding looking at anyone at the dinner table entirely, never speaking, her eyes firmly fixed on her plate.
Lady Fitzhugh was also very quiet throughout the dinner, and she was a natural chatterbox like Phineas. Usually, when Phineas and the much older Lady Fitzhugh got together, they could twitter away for hours. She was likely furious at Phineas for having Lady Anne and Edmund together at the same dinner. Phineas should have known better.
And, of course, Lady Starling was glaring daggers down the table at Phineas. She had had no chance to flirt with Edmund since he had been so consumed with rebutting Lady Anne. In fact, Edmund’s temper had flared so high tonight, Horatia likely could have groped him under the table and the man wouldn’t have noticed.
“You still owe me, Phin. I’m very close to telling the marquess everything,” Lady Starling said, with absolutely no veil to her threat as she swept out of his rooms.
He sighed and closed the door, thinking she was the last guest to leave, and was surprised to find Lady Lutton still standing in the hall when he turned around.
He bowed. “Lady Lutton, I do apologize. It’s late. Let me arrange for my carriage to take you home.”
Lady Lutton’s face was pink and she had drunk almost no wine at dinner. She fluttered one of her hands.
“Thank you, Lord Burchester, that would be most kind. I did not know, I mean to say, I was not aware, the other guests, I will know in the future . . . but I must tell you that I stayed behind because I have something to give to you. A letter from Lady Caroline Haskett. She doesn’t want her brother to know about it.”
She took a letter from her reticule and held it out. Phineas couldn’t get a breath in. Caro had written to him.
He took the letter from Lady Lutton, trembling slightly. He glanced at her face. She had been flushed with some kind of embarrassment just a moment ago, but now she had a look of concern.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.
