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After dinner, the duke, his brother, and Lord Dunstan stayed in the dining room while the women went to the parlor. Tea was poured and Marianne showed her latest work she had done with Lord Dunstan earlier in the day.

“Can we expect a proposal from Lord Dunstan, Marianne?” Gabrielle asked as she studied Marianne’s art.

“It is early days, but he is very attentive, and we have a lot in common.”

Gabrielle sat forward in her seat. “Can you see yourself married to him?”

Marianne paused and then smiled. “Yes. I can, but I hardly want to believe it. I have spent so many years on the marriage mart that I do not want to pin all my hopes in case he changes his mind.”

Rose took her seat behind the pianoforte. “He would be mad to let you go.”

“Have you no one in mind, Rose?” Gabrielle asked.

“No. I have not found my Lord Dunstan yet, but I am hopeful that he is out there.” She flipped over some of the music sheets until she found the one she wanted. Then she began to play, thinking of the way Edward looked at her at dinner, and she fumbled several notes, not that anyone seemed to notice.

The conversation with the dowager this afternoon had weighed heavily on her mind. Was there any way she could sway the duke to reconcile with Maxine? Or was it nothing but a losing battle that would mean only she would bear the scars afterwards?

When the gentlemen joined them, Charles seemed relieved and went straight to his wife’s side. Lord Dunstan hovered by the fireplace, and the duke made for the closest chair to the window. He did not seem pleased or displeased—that ducal façade was firmly in place. Rose took her leave of the pianoforte, and Marianne took over, Lord Dunstan offering to turn the pages for her.

“I am sorry that I missed your set at the pianoforte, Lady Rose,” Lord Charles said.

“I only play tolerably. I fear I was more for riding than practicing.”

He shook his head. “I cannot believe you. You seem accomplished in every way.”

“Every way?” She looked up and laughed. “Hardly. You give me too much credit, my lord.”

“I agree with Charles,” the duke said. “You play well, you are quite the artist, you no doubt sew a good seam, and are quite fond of botany.”

Sew a good seam? “Well then, you are too kind.”

“Botany? Have you heard of the Psilocybe semilanceata or the Liberty Cap mushroom, Lady Rose?” Charles asked, suddenly sitting forward.

“I have not.”

“They are unusual looking, a little like a fig or bell shape.”

“How fascinating.”

“Charles,” the duke said, as if in warning.

“I would be happy to send you the latest paper on them. I study mycology, you see, amongst other things.”

“I would be happy to read about them, thank you.”

“We must take our leave, dearest,” Gabrielle said, standing.

“Oh, yes, of course, look at the time. Heavens, is it that late already?” He kissed his mother and sister and bowed to Rose. “An enchanting evening.” He bowed to Lord Dunstan and to his brother and led his wife out of the room.

“Your brother is passionate about his studies,” Rose said, smiling at the duke.

“Too passionate sometimes, I’m afraid,” he supplied.

“There is nothing wrong with passion,” Lord Dunstan said. “If we are not passionate about our work, we would never strive to succeed.”

“Too much leads to the negligence of other duties,” the duke replied.

“Oh, that is rich coming from you,” Marianne said. “The man who spends all his time working in his office. Who hardly sleeps.”