Page 58 of The Luckiest Lady in London

His sense of misgiving doubled when she appeared on the terrace clad in the same dinner gown she’d worn on their wedding night. Without looking left or right, she went directly to Drummond, who bowed and kissed her hand.

They stood by the balustrade and chatted, ignoring the buffet supper altogether. As they spoke, with only the barest nod at subtlety, Drummond inched toward her. She seemed perfectly conversant with the game. From time to time, she would rest the tip of her closed fan against his chest, to slow his inexorable progress. And once in a while, she would slide a foot to the left, to keep a respectable distance between them.

Then, all of a sudden, not only did she stop moving away, she leaned toward Drummond. And when he lowered his head to say something in her ear, she tilted her face and gave him a sideways smile.

A smile that spoke of a Greek folly lit by torches, of slender columns that could barely conceal a grown woman, and of hot, frantic coupling in the shadows, perhaps only a few yards from those who oohed and ahhed over the display of fireworks.

In the wake of the smile, she whispered to Drummond and pointed to the very pavilion across the water, the one Felix could not look at without an echoing sense of loss.

She left Drummond with a flirtatious caress of her fan down his arm, to mix with the other guests. Felix felt as if there were a hand at his throat, choking him. He had not agreed to an adulterous affair; surely she could recall that. He had not turned down Lady Tremaine flat because he had not wanted to interrogate her on why she was propositioning him out of the blue, knowing that they were not truly alone.

He found Lady Tremaine and led her down to the lawn, out of earshot of the others. “Regretting it yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do know what I mean. You were wondering whether to have a headache or pretend to be too drunk when I showed up at midnight.”

She sighed. “Why must you know me so well?”

“I assume it’s not anything your Scandinavian lovers said or did.” He doubted that she’d had any lovers at all; she was not the sort to sleep with a man on a short acquaintance.

She looked away. “Tremaine was in Copenhagen.”

Her permanently absent husband. “At his sister’s house?”

“No. I mean, I’m sure that’s where he was staying, but we ran into each other quite accidentally.” She exhaled. “And he had a woman with him.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s just the shock of it. I will be all right in no time.”

He touched her on her arm. “Come back at Christmas. I’ll pack the house with handsome men and you can have your pick.”

She laughed rather valiantly, her hand reaching up to adjust the scarf his valet had draped about his neck against the eventual chill of the night. “That’s right—instead of the ugly men you usually host.”

Her barely-beneath-the-surface pain reverberated inside his own chest. He was feeling too much these days—and no longer knew how to stop.

He squeezed her hand. “I will even get rid of the homelier footmen, just for you.”

They both laughed rather valiantly at that. She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Felix.”

And of course his wife would choose that moment to look his way, her gaze hardening into daggers.

* * *

At ten minutes to midnight, Felix walked into the folly.

His wife was already there, her hand on a pillar, looking toward the bonfire on the opposite shore of the lake. He still couldn’t quite believe it—that she had arranged a rendezvous with a man she actively disliked, just to spite him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, this house?” she said without glancing behind her. “I used to study a tiny picture of it, and imagine how it would look in person, lit up like this, impossibly majestic against the night.”

He had come to tell her that he had already dispatched Drummond—by letting it be known that a man to whom Drummond owed a large gaming debt would be among those coming to watch the fireworks at midnight. Drummond had fled almost before Felix had stopped speaking, rather to Felix’s disappointment. He would have preferred to enjoy the man’s panic for a bit longer.

Her head tilted up. “And such stars. Have I ever told you of my interest in astronomy? I have always been intrigued by the night sky, ever since I was a child. To think that there is a vast universe out there, full of deep, marvelous unknowns.”

She had never told him, directly, of her fascination with the stars. Never allowed him to share her sense of wonder.

“But you didn’t come to hear me prattle on. Please proceed with what we’ve agreed upon.”