Page 46 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

Graydon laughed. He knew from the hopes and dreams they had told each other as young men that George would like nothing better than to be wed. ‘Let’s meet tomorrow at the club.’

‘Done.’ They shook hands.

Graydon hurried off to carry out his duty.

Mr Aldrich, whom Lady Blackdown had snidely described as ‘a gossiping gadfly’ when he’d approached, deposited Florence back with her mother-in-law and, after a brief conversation, fluttered off to sip at the nectar of some other available lady.

His conversation during the dance had been gossip about everyone within eyesight. She had been careful not to answer any of his questions with other than mere commonplace. Living in a village, one learned early to say nothing to anyone that one did not want repeated back to one with embellishment a few days later. From him, she had learned the name of the lady in lavender who had been in deep conversation with Graydon: Eloise, Lady Standish. Apparently, the last time Graydon was in Town, he had formed one of her adoring court. Now she was married to a Lord Standish, who resided in Essex, and she had given him his heir several years ago.

Cleary, the airy way he had imparted this information indicated he expected her to question him for more details. So she hadn’t. She wasn’t going to invite gossip about her husband.

Graydon’s arrival shortly after Aldrich’s departure left her with no opportunity to ask her mother-in-law about the lady, either. Though, on second thoughts, it might be better if she did not.

She took a sip of the ratafia and quelled a shudder. As a rule, she quite liked ratafia. Though the cordial was on the sweet side, it was pleasant enough if the right spices were added. The stuff served by the Almack’s patronesses, however, was exactly as described by Lady Blackdown: watered down and nasty. She made up her mind not to try the sandwiches.

‘You will never guess who I met, Mother.’ Graydon sounded delighted.

Lady Blackdown stiffened.

Florence waited with bated breath. Was she going to find out more about the lady in lavender?

‘You remember George Redfern, don’t you? An old school chum. I gather you know his mother.’

Florence did not give a tuppence about the man to whom he had been talking—a squat bruiser of a gentlemen with little in his countenance to recommend him. Graydon’s other conversation was of far more interest. She looked around her, but the lady was nowhere in sight.

‘Yes, I do know her—Lady Hatch. We play whist together at the Assembly Rooms!’

The relief in her voice was palpable and Graydon gave her an odd look as she continued.

‘An excellent woman. She despairs of George, though. She thinks his prospects to be very dim. Her older son on the other hand is doing extremely well.’

‘George is a good man.’ Graydon sounded defensive. Florence liked that he was defending this friend of his with whom he had been so pleased to meet.

‘Nonsense,’ his mother said. ‘According to his mama, he spends all his time in gambling hells when he should be seeking advancement. Apparently, he has gone nowhere at his place of employment.’

Well, to Hades with it, Florence thought. Since he had brought up the subject of someone he had met, so would she. ‘Who was the woman you were talking to for such a long while?’

Graydon’s face blanked. ‘Which lady?’

Oh, did he think her stupid? ‘The only lady you have spoken to since we arrived.’

‘I have spoken to several, including you, mother and Lady Cowper.’

Anger rose in her breast. He did think her stupid. All the pleasure she had derived from the evening disappeared. ‘And you spoke at length with a lady in a lavender gown.’

If it was possible, his expression became more remote. ‘Lady Standish, you mean.’

‘Lady Standish,’ she agreed. ‘Mr Aldrich said you formed part of her court years ago.’

‘It seems you know all about her, so why are you asking me?’

Why did he sound so irritated? And why was his mother giving her a look of disapproval? Oh, was this one of those occasions when a wife did not question her husband about other ladies? One simply turned a blind eye, according to Lady Blackdown. So did that mean this woman, this Lady Standish, was someone about whom she should not question him? Was she the reason for her mother-in-law’s rather casual warning? She frowned.

Graydon narrowed his gaze on her face. ‘Lady Standish and I were about in the same Season. We were friends; in the same set, as it were. It is not unusual for the year’s crop of debutantes and newly arrived gentlemen to form friendships. Tonight was the first time I have seen her in years.’

Lady Blackdown blinked.

Clearly, for some reason he was lying, or hiding something. Why should Florence care? Theirs was a marriage of convenience, not a love match. Why care when it was to all intents and purposes a marriage in name only, so far as she could tell?