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“I must say, if I never encounter Lady Calbraith again, it will be too soon,” Mama vowed as she plopped onto her chair and began vigorously fanning herself. “I shall give her the cut direct after this and advise my friends to do the same. Of all the nerve. Did you see her gown? I’ve seen strumpets wearing more.”

When had her mother ever seen a strumpet?

Mama sniffed in offended outrage. “‘Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’ as my grandmama used to say.”

Why, indeed?

Nicolette chuckled despite the horridness of the past few minutes.

Her mother had truly forgotten herself.

Raising her eyes, Nicolette met Megan’s sympathetic gaze.

“What did Mathias mean, Lady Calbraith and Kilbourne are of the same ilk?” she asked. Nicolette was afraid she already knew, but she needed to hear it, nonetheless.

Megan bit her lip then took both of Nicolette’s hands in hers. “She and Mathias became betrothed after I left for India but before he inherited the dukedom. She broke it off and married the viscount. And I believe she regrets her decision, especially now that Mathias is a duke.”

Of course, she did.

And that’s why Mathias had been so kind to Nicolette.

He knew exactly how she felt.

Megan cut a fretful glance at the parted curtain. “I fear she means to take up where they left off.”

Nicolette stared at the box’s entrance, the champagne souring in her stomach. Why did the thought make her want to weep?

Mayfair, London

Afternoon

23 May 1810

Mathias was late.

Returning his timepiece to his pocket, he firmed his lips as the carriage rumbled through London’s cobbled streets. His mother’s tea had started thirty minutes ago, and he’d promised to be present.

He’d taken Nicolette on that coveted ride through Hyde Park in his phaeton, and they’d walked together two mornings. He’d also made a point to attend the Featherspoons’ musical, as well as the Middlethorpes’ dinner when he’d learned she’d been invited.

They’d developed a camaraderie, and Nicolette no longer attempted to wedge formality between them. Mathias couldn’t be more delighted at his purposeful progress.

Two years he’d waited to pursue Nicolette, a woman like no other. She was incomparable, at least in his mind. He wanted very much to be her friend and confidant, someone she could trust without hesitation and rely upon. Hopefully, that trust, friendship, and attraction would grow into something more.

He was a patient man and would wait as long as it took.

Idly flexing his sore hand, Mathias grinned.

By God, his tardiness was worth it, though Mother wouldn’t agree.

As he’d made his way through White’s, he’d had the unfortunate privilege of encountering the Duke of Kilbourne. The assling, already well into his cups in the middle of the day, had hailed Mathias as he passed by his table.

“Heard you’re courting Nicolette Twistleton, Westfall.” He raised his glass, his mouth twisted into a sideways grin. Not much older than Mathias, Kilbourne was one of those dissolute peers who quickly wasted their fortunes on drink, gambling, and whoring. His sedate lifestyle lent to his lily-white hands, soft body, and increasingly fleshy features.

Nicolette was well rid of the whey-faced man, even if she didn’t know it.

Mathias had put his sleuthing skills to work and uncovered several unsavory details about Kilbourne.

The duke had managed to blow through a goodly portion of his estranged wife’s fortune already. The Duchess of Kilbourne had journeyed to America because he’d beaten her one time too many. She had no plans to return. And Kilbourne had the clap, which was no surprise given his propensity to swive anything in skirts.