Oh, how very interesting. After his encounter with Miss Wilson last night, and considering she shared a household with Arabella, he had assumed Arabella would be aware of the other side of herself Miss Wilson had revealed to him last night. But Arabella seemed completely unaware there was another aspect to Miss Wilson’s personality.
Why was Miss Wilson hiding it from Arabella? Hiding a zest for adventure and brazen behavior from her cousins was one thing, but Arabella would make a perfect partner-in-crime.
“Well, she is very beautiful,” he said off-handedly, aware Arabella was regarding him with suspicion. “Who are the young ladies beside her?”
“Miss Lillian Davis, the Duchess of Richmond’s goddaughter, and Miss Josephine Pennyworth, only daughter of Squire Brown of Derbyshire.” A little smile curved Arabella’s lips. “Miss Pennyworth is a cracking rider and is already establishing herself as an Original.” She looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to express interest in the woman she thought would make him a better match than her husband’s cousin.
Cynthia was also looking at him intently, although there was something different about her gaze. Suddenly, she leaned forward.
“Is it true you have a secret debauchery club?” she asked.
Rex nearly choked. He was used to blunt-speaking from Arabella, but there were still certain topics one didnotbring up in a drawing-room. Especially when there were so many listening ears only a few feet away, no matter that she had spoken quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“I heard you did,” she said airily. “I want to come to one. May I have an invitation?”
Rex stared at her, nonplussed. Perhaps he should be grateful Spencer had gotten her to the altar before she debuted—how on earth did the man control her?
“Wesley is going to spank the dickens out of you,” Arabella said, covering her mouth with her hand to cover her laughter. Well, that answered that. Cynthia just smiled serenely, unconcerned by Arabella’s observation. Rex shook his head in bemusement.
“Your husband has already declined a prior invitation,” he informed her, just to see what her reaction would be. She scowled fiercely.
“Blast.”
He choked on another laugh. Perhaps he would have to issue another invitation. If Spencer said yes, the results would surely be entertaining.
Mary
Watching Hartford conversing with Arabella and Cynthia was doing odd things to the insides of Mary’s stomach. It flipped and flopped about, churning when he laughed at something Cynthia said. That was the type of woman Hartford was looking for in his bride—someone like Arabella or Cynthia. Someone like Josie.
Certainly, not someone like her. She could count on one hand the number of sentences she’d said to the visiting gentlemen the entire afternoon, and she had not made a single one of them laugh. They were not there for her, anyway. They had come because Josie and Lily were there, although the vast majority of the attention was going to Josie.
There were still several suitors focused on Lily—although Lily had already whispered her private summation of them to Mary—brown-nosers looking for a connection to her godparents. Lily was singularly unimpressed.
It was not that Mary wanted the particular attention of any of the gentlemen in the room. It would just be nice to not feel quite so invisible. She did not mind when she was trying to avoid notice, but it was lowering when she was supposed to be attracting a husband.
Then Hartford had come in, and every part of her body had seized. Her lips had started tingling again, her heart had begun to race, then he had met her gaze… before breaking off and making a beeline for Arabella and Cynthia. Relief had battled for supremacy with disappointment. She had made herself look away from the conversing trio, reminding herself he wasnota marital prospect.
That afternoon was supposed to be about finding a likely gentleman or two for her to consider. There were several gentlemen on the list of names her family had come up with, and…
Why was Walter in the doorway? And why was he looking at Hartford in that manner?
When Hartford bowed to Arabella and Cynthia and began to move toward the doorway, Mary realized Walter had indicated he wished to speak to Hartford—and Hartford was responding. What the devil? How did they know each other?
As if they were puzzle pieces falling into place—Walter’s secretive behavior, his inordinately late nights, and the bags under his eyes—they put together a picture she had not considered before.
Walter is part of Hartford’s club.
Heart beating faster than a galloping horse, Mary turned to Lily, interrupting whatever Lord Walton had been saying about comparing Lily’s eyes to dark ponds in the moonlight. Lily would likely be relieved.
“Oh, I just remembered… did you want to see the new book I bought?”
It was one of the worst lies she had ever told, so thrown by her revelations, she could not even think of a convincing title for a book. Lily blinked at her, eyes darting over to see Hartford retreating. Walter was no longer standing in the doorway, but Lily quickly picked up on Mary’s desire to follow Hartford.
“Oh, yes, please,” Lily said, smiling. “I am so glad you remembered.”
“I will be back momentarily,” Mary said reassuringly. She might as well not have bothered. The gentlemen who had been conversing with Lily seemed surprised that Mary was speaking to them and to those who were currently trying to impress Josie with their knowledge of horses.