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“Thank you, my lady, for saving me the walk.” Pippy flicked another glance at Freddie before continuing. “We are very grateful to you. I’ve never had such an attentive hostess.”

Lady Dalmeer’s lips pursed together. “Yes, and…” She held it out.

“And…” Pippy hesitated.

Freddie stepped in. “Perhaps you should tell us what we’re thanking you for? There are so many things that to name them individually would take far too long. My wife was implying we are grateful to you for everything you’ve done.” He was playing to his aunt’s flair for the dramatics, which he usually avoided at all costs. But if it moved her on her way, it was worth the sacrifice.

But it did not appease her. “If it weren’t for my house party,” she tapped her fan on Pippy’s arm, “you might never have married. I believe I deserve the credit for it.”

“You what?” Freddie sputtered. “How do you account for that?”

She tipped her head to the side. “If it had not been for my party, your father would not have forced the issue of you marrying. At least not until the Season. So you see, in actuality, I forced your hand.” She smiled widely, as if that was something to be lauded.

Pippy blinked. “I had not consid⁠—”

“Good evening, Lady Dalmeer. Lord Weymouth.” Mr. Rochester slid to a stop between Freddie and his aunt. He dipped his head toward Pippy. “Mrs. Rochester.”

Pippy’s brows creased.

Freddie was not yet done correcting his aunt’s misunderstanding of the situation.

“I beg your pardon?” Pippy said.

It was only then Freddie registered what the man had said—or what he thought Rochester had said. But that could not be right, surely. “Indeed,” he instinctively reached for his wife’s hand.

Mr. Rochester scoffed. “Come, now, dearest. You need not pretend any longer. It’s time Lord Weymouth learned the truth.”

Freddie tugged Pippy closer. He didn’t know what the man was about, but he didn’t imagine it was anything good. And Freddie had no patience for his nonsense. “Rochester, I didn’t realize my aunt had invited you.”

“I didn’t,” Lady Dalmeer said, but Mr. Rochester acted as if he didn’t hear her.

“She didn’t directly invite me. But, as she invited my wife, I assumed the invitation was extended to us both.” He had a smug grin on his face.

Freddie smiled insincerely. “I’d not heard of your marriage. Congratulations. Who’s the fortunate lady?” He said “fortunate” with a heavy amount of sarcasm.

“Why, you're standing next to her, my lord.” Mr. Rochester reached for Pippy. “Come, dearest. It’s time you stop lying and take your place at my side.”

Pippy sucked in a breath and looked at Freddie with wide eyes.

Freddie stepped between them, forcing Rochester to drop Pippy’s hand. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s just as I was telling—” He tapped his lips. “I don’t recall exactly who I was speaking with. I’ve spoken to nearly everyone here.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly when he looked at Freddie and then Pippy. “Lady Phoebe, or rather Mrs. Rochester, is my wife.”

Freddie flinched. It was fustian nonsense, he was certain. But there would be implications, regardless of the truth.

“She married me,” Rochester continued. “But soon after, she renewed her acquaintance with you.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “She’s not a stupid woman, I’ll give her that. When she saw what you could give her, she left me and married you immediately.”

Pippy sucked in a breath. “That’s not true.”

“Stop pretending, my dear,” Mr. Rochester said. “I have the papers to prove it.” He patted his pocket.

“But that’s impossible,” she said in a whisper.

Freddie squeezed her hand, his eyes staying on Rochester. “Lady Weymouth, why do you not take a moment in the retiring room? I’m certain I’ll have the matter sorted in no time.”

“I don’t intend to leave without my wife, Weymouth.”

Freddie gave Pippy a nudge. “Go on. I’ll send one of my sisters for you when I’m through.”