Chapter Eleven
Leonard already had regrets, but Caroline had sent the invitation to Mrs. Gillingham the moment Tristan told his wife about the woman. Now Leonard was on the firing block.
“Who is she?” Tristan asked, giving Leonard his infamous smile.
Leonard wanted to slap it off his face. Tristan was finding way too much pleasure in his pain.
Not to mention, he couldn’t really answer Tristan’s question without giving away his ridiculous predicament. So he went with the safest choice. Part truth, but not the whole. “She is one of Andrew’s clients.”
This caused Tristan’s brow to pucker, but his smile remained. “Really? So he introduced you?”
“In a matter of words.” Leonard sipped the tea Caroline had called for. At the moment, she was upstairs getting ready for dinner.
“I know I shouldn’t be surprised that you are being so taciturn, but I am annoyed.” Tristan leaned his arm on the edge of the settee. “Is she pretty?”
Leonard reared back. Yes, she was pretty. But if he said as much, Tristan would get the wrong idea. “I believe most men would think so.”
Tristan threw his head back with a laugh. “Only you would phrase it so, Leonard. You know it is perfectly acceptable to admit a lady is attractive. It is even acceptable to tell her that.” A beat of silence passed. “Have you?”
“Have I what?” Leonard met his stare straight on. He could play ignorant all night long.
With barely restrained glee, Tristan tilted his head. “Told her she is pretty.”
“No. I have not.” Leonard pulled his cravat slightly. Goodness, it was warm in this room. “We do not have that type of relationship.”
“Then why did you invite her here this evening?”
“I didn’t,” Leonard corrected. “Caroline did.”
Tristan leaned back. “Yes, at your request.”
Shaking his head, Leonard stood, then walked around to the back of the chair he had been sitting in. “If I am being honest, I felt sorry for the young woman. She is a widow and doesn’t seem to have any friends. That is why I asked Caroline to invite her.”
Tristan’s smile faded. “I don’t believe you.”
“What is there not to believe?”
“Never have you asked for a woman, a single one at that, to be invited to dine. No,” he said, shaking his head. “There is more afoot here than you let on.”
“Well, while you try your best to solve this little mystery, please be discreet. I don’t want Mrs. Gillingham getting the wrong idea.”
“And she is a widow?” Tristan asked again.
“Yes. Her husband died . . .” Leonard’s words trailed off. Did she say when her husband had died?
“Died . . .” Tristan rolled his hand in the air, beckoning Leonard to continue.
“I don’t think she actually told me,” he finally admitted. “But she is no longer in mourning, judging by her attire. Nor does she seem particularly sad. Surely it’s been several years.”
“How old is she?” Tristan couldn’t hide his curiosity, his face scrunching.
“I—” Again, something Leonard didn’t know. “If I had to guess, I would say twenty-four.”
“Guess? Goodness, Leonard. What kind of a besotted beau are you?”
“I’m not,” he gritted out. “I told you that.”
“Yes,” Tristan said, his eyes flicking to the stairs as Caroline descended. “So you said.”
If the way Tristan looked at his wife was any indication, then Leonard was far from falling for Mrs. Gillingham. The adoration on his friend’s face was obvious, and he wasn’t even a bit ashamed of the fact.
“Caroline,” he said, waving her closer. “Come and help me pester Stanton about his new lady friend.”
She smiled but turned to Leonard with a look of pity. “Has he been unbearable while I was upstairs?”
“Only partially.”
“Nonsense.” Tristan pulled Caroline’s hand until she sat tucked beside him on the settee. “I am never unbearable.”
Caroline swatted at him, then pushed away and stood with a smile.
“Now,” she said, ignoring her husband’s adoring smile as he looked up at her. “I want to make sure Mrs. Gillingham is comfortable this evening. Where shall I sit her at the table?”
Again, Leonard looked like an imbecile. He had no idea of her social ranking. “I don’t know.”
Caroline smiled as she shook her head. “Of course you don’t. Why am I not surprised?” She put a hand under her chin. “Shall I just seat you beside Tristan and then she to your right?”
“By me?” Leonard’s eyes grew wide. “Why?”
Caroline looked ready to scoff but controlled herself. “Because she knows no one else in our party.”
“Who else is coming?” Leonard’s discomfort mounted, and he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.
“You and Mrs. Gillingham, Tristan and I, Ambrose and his new bride, and Andrew and Sophie.”
Leonard’s stomach lurched into his throat. “Andrew is coming?” So, Mrs. Gillingham would know someone in attendance after all.
“Mrs. Gillingham will know him, then,” Tristan said, as if reading Leonard’s thoughts. “That will be nice.”
Nice wasn’t the word Leonard would use.
“Speak of the devil,” Tristan said, looking toward the door. Leonard’s gaze followed to see Andrew and his wife, Sophie. The weight of the evening settled heavily over him. Every other person in this group would be married, except for him and Mrs. Gillingham.
What had he been thinking?
For once in his life, he had let the small soft center of himself pity this young woman, and now, because of it, he would suffer an entire evening of smirks and glances from the other married members of the group. An entirely insufferable idea.
He sprung to his feet, glancing about for a quick escape. Could he make some sort of excuse to leave? Illness, perhaps. He could claim a sour stomach or a headache. Before he could deliberate as to which illness would be most believable, Mrs. Gillingham herself appeared behind Andrew.
The ramifications of his actions played out before him, because as soon as Tristan laid eyes on Mrs. Gillingham, he turned to Leonard with a raised brow and wide, knowing eyes. He could practically hear his friend’s thoughts.
This woman is more than slightly attractive.
Leonard could only run his hand up the back of his neck and do his best not to wither under Tristan’s waggling brow.
“Mr. Stanton.” Mrs. Gillingham’s familiar voice calling for him forced him to look up. She had a raised brow as Tristan had, but Leonard couldn’t figure out why at the moment. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me?”
Blast. Of course. That was the whole point of this evening after all.
He strode over to her, his neck hot and his clothes feeling too tight. “Mrs. Shepherd, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mrs. Honora Gillingham.”
“A pleasure,” Mrs. Gillingham said, dipping to her hostess.
Leonard gestured to Andrew. “And, of course, you know Mr. Langford.”
Her eyes widened so briefly that Leonard would have missed it had he not been already watching her. But she quickly corrected the expression and turned to Andrew with a curtsy. “Of course. How good to see you again, Mr. Langford.”
Andrew’s mouth fell open as he noticed Mrs. Gillingham.
“Mrs. . . . Gillingham.” He nodded his head. “How good to see you.” Andrew turned to Leonard, a question in his gaze, which Leonard promptly ignored. Tristan’s carpet had a very interesting pattern, with which Leonard pretended to be in raptures.
“We will speak later,” Andrew said as he passed him to join the others in the seating area.
The rest of the introductions were made, soon followed by dinner, and it all felt like it was happening in some sort of distorted reality.
His friends, all previously single less than a year ago, were now all happily married, and Leonard was seated by a widowed thief, whom his friends now all thought he had a vested interest in.
He could not have made the situation up if he had tried.
“Mr. Stanton,” Mrs. Gillingham said, nodding as he held her chair out for her before taking his own. “You look very well this evening.”
“Thank you.” A cough sounded to Leonard’s left, and he looked up to see Tristan with a fist against his mouth.
Tristan finally looked up when Leonard said nothing else, and he flicked his eyes to Mrs. Gillingham, going so far as to tilt his head in her direction.
Leonard pursed his lips for a moment. He did not like to be forced into anything, but he was in Tristan’s house after all. “And you look well this evening, Mrs. Gillingham.”
Her arm brushed against his, and he couldn’t tell if it was purposeful or not. “Thank you.” Another brush of her elbow caused him to turn his attention to her. She was fidgeting, her hands working together in her lap.
Leonard leaned slightly nearer. “Are you nervous?”
“A bit,” she said, tucking a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.
“That surprises me.”
“Believe it or not, I am human, Mr. Stanton.”
Leonard picked up his glass after a servant poured a bit of wine into it, and he held it to his lips before answering, “You had me completely fooled.” He took a drink, noticing her head jerk toward him as he filled his mouth with the bold, fruity drink.
“A joke,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I shall take that as the highest compliment coming from you. That means we must be becoming friends.”
The wine stuck in his throat, briefly choking him before he swallowed the rest down and regained his composure. “I do not know if I’d go so far as all that.”
Ambrose, seated to Mrs. Gillingham’s right, soon engaged her in polite conversation, giving Leonard a break from his discomfort.
Only last night the two of them were in a park in the dead of night, speaking with a man of what Leonard could only assume was of ill repute.
And now, they were having dinner in his friend’s home.