Chapter 3
“Whatever is the matter, Carenza?” Allegra set down her embroidery. “You’ve been pacing and muttering ever since you came in.”
Maude, who was sitting opposite Allegra in the drawing room, nodded. “Is something wrong? You haven’t told us anything about how your event went yet.”
Carenza took a deep breath. “The men who answered the advertisement were … unsuitable.”
“What a surprise,” Allegra said.
Maude grimaced. “That is a shame. Perhaps you’ll have to find a lover the old-fashioned way and attend lots of balls in a succession of daring gowns that simply shout out that you’re looking for a paramour.”
“You read too many novels,” Allegra said.
“And you don’t?” Maude grinned at Allegra.
Carenza finally sat down. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much interest in my advertisement. But after finding out it had been discussed at White’s, I did assume I might see a better class of gentlemen.”
“From what I understand, most gentlemen thought it was a ploy by the newspapers to make the men look bad,” Maude said. “No one enjoys being ridiculed in the press.”
“It will be interesting to see whether the morning papers even mention it,” Allegra said. “One can only hope the news doesn’t reach Father in Norfolk.”
“I doubt it will,” Carenza said. “Unless someone who knows exactly who we are decides to tell him.”
“Olivia might enjoy a good joke, sister, but I don’t think she’d betray you,” Allegra hastened to reassure Carenza.
“I wasn’t thinking of her.”
“Then who? Surely you can’t imagine Maude or I would—”
“Of course not.” Carenza shook her head. “I was thinking of Julian.”
Both women blinked at her.
Maude was the first to recover. “Julian Laurent?”
Carenza nodded. “As you might imagine, when he discovered my scheme he was shocked that I was contemplating such a step and attempted to dissuade me. When I refused to listen, he turned up at the inn and insisted on taking me home.”
“What did Olivia have to say about that?” Maude asked.
“Before he spoke with me, he sent her home with her maid,” Carenza said.
“And she went willingly?” Allegra looked at Maude.
“He told her the press were outside and that it would be better if we left separately. She apparently agreed.”
“Then it was a good thing that you did let Julian accompany you home,” Allegra said. “Think of your reputation!”
“Did he lecture you all the way back?” Maude asked. “That might account for your current agitation.”
“He—” Carenza stopped speaking. She was not ready to admit that Julian had offered to be her paramour. “He was rather annoyed with me.”
Allegra gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’ve seen him give other people a set-down, and it is never pleasant. He has such a cold way about him.”
Carenza had never thought of Julian as cold, but she’d certainly underestimated the steely determination beneath his languid exterior.
His unexpected offer had made her blush and stammer like an untried debutante.
But she couldn’t deny that she was intrigued.
Could she begin to think of Julian as a possible lover as opposed to her deceased husband’s best friend?
That was the issue at hand and not his ability to be discreet. She already knew his discretion was a given.
“I suppose Mr. Laurent still feels somewhat responsible for you, Carenza,” Maude said. “He and Hector were very close.”
“I suspect you are right,” Carenza agreed. “There is no point in being annoyed with him for looking out for my best interests.”
“How did he find out in the first place?” Allegra asked.
Carenza looked over at her sister. “That was my fault. He suspected it was Olivia who was advertising for a lover, and I felt obliged to set him straight.”
“Not that,” Allegra said. “How did he know you’d be at the Wheatsheaf today?”
“I’m not sure.” Carenza frowned.
“I mean, it’s not as if he’d be likely to be passing by such an establishment,” Allegra pointed out. “He only leaves his house to visit his club, see his mother, and attend to his social duties.”
“Then I assume he must have read the advertisement,” Carenza said.
“Which only asked for interested applicants to apply.”
Maude chuckled. “Are you suggesting that the extremely rich and available Mr. Laurent stooped to replying to an advertisement to find a lover? I find that extremely unlikely.”
“Once he knew it was me, he probably pretended to be someone else, or got his secretary to apply for him,” Carenza said, vaguely unsettled. “And why we are wasting so much energy discussing this matter is beyond me.”
Maude exchanged a glance with Allegra and rose to her feet. “I should be going. I’m expecting a letter from Gerald today.”
“Is he coming home?” Carenza asked.
Maude’s expression tightened. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve grown so used to being disappointed that I hardly dare hope anymore.”
Carenza got up and embraced Maude. “He’ll come home. He has to.”
“At some point there will be nothing left for him to do,” Allegra agreed. “Napoleon is safely on Saint Helena, and the continent is beginning to settle down.”
“One can only hope.” Maude kissed them both and left.
Allegra looked over at Carenza. “I can’t believe Gerald is so oblivious to his own wife’s misery.”
“It is not uncommon in a marriage, sister,” Carenza said.
“I know Hector led you a merry dance.”
“It wasn’t particularly merry,” Carenza confessed. “I cried myself to sleep on many occasions.”
“And yet in public, you always looked so serene,” Allegra said. “Father was always so proud of you.”
The butler came in and bowed. “Mrs. Sheraton has called, my lady. Do you wish to receive her and her companions?”
Carenza glanced at the clock. It was rather late, but there was no reason to be uncivil. Visitors might take her mind off the dilemma of Julian, and she desperately needed to speak to Olivia anyway.
“Please send them up and bring some refreshments.” She rose to her feet to greet the three people who came into the drawing room. “Good afternoon, Olivia, Lady Brenton, Mr. Walcott.”
Olivia came over to kiss her. “I do apologize for my lateness, but I met Mr. Walcott and Lady Brenton in the park, and we were so busy comparing notes on the opera singer we heard yesterday evening that I quite forgot the time.”
Mr. Walcott bowed low. “Lady Smythe-Harding, Lady Allegra.”
“Good afternoon.” Carenza offered him her hand. She knew very little of him apart from the fact that he was vaguely related to Julian.
“I believe you are acquainted with Lady Brenton?” Mr. Walcott asked.
“Yes, of course.” Carenza curtsied to the lady in question.
Lady Brenton was an exquisite dark-haired beauty who always made Carenza feel like a cart horse.
“We share many of the same interests.”
Mr. Walcott tittered. “One of them being Julian Laurent.”
Carenza went still. Had Julian’s intervention in her affairs gotten out? Or, even worse, had he revealed to others that he was bringing her to heel?
She quickly became aware that everyone was looking at her and tried to regain her usual calm. “How so?” she asked politely.
Lady Brenton didn’t look amused. “Mr. Walcott is jesting.”
“Hardly, my dear,” Mr. Walcott said. “All I meant was that Julian was best friends with Hector Smythe-Harding and that you are also a good friend of Julian’s.”
“Please excuse Mr. Walcott, Carenza,” Olivia intervened. “He is not an admirer of Mr. Laurent, as Julian was left a fortune by his godmother that Mr. Walcott believes should have come to him.”
Mr. Walcott attempted a tight smile. “Even if what you say is correct, Mrs. Sheraton, it is hardly the place to discuss it. I can assure you that I am still pursuing this matter through the courts.”
“I thought they recently ruled against you again,” Olivia said sweetly. “And that there were no longer any grounds for further appeal.”
Carenza tried not to smile as Mr. Walcott’s jaw worked and he struggled to speak. “As I said, ma’am, such matters are better left to those who have a greater understanding of the law and are not merely regurgitating rumors read in the press.”
If Mr. Walcott thought his remarks would cow Olivia, he was soon disappointed.
“Regurgitate?” Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an interesting word. I will have to share your opinion of The Times journalism with those I know who work there.”
“I merely meant that a particular reader such as yourself, ma’am, might not have a complete understanding of the topic.”
“Ah, yes, because women cannot be expected to understand such weighty matters,” Olivia said.
Mr. Walcott looked relieved. “Exactly, ma’am.”
The parlormaid arrived with the tea tray and they all sat down. Carenza took the opportunity to steer the conversation into less stormy waters. Lady Brenton said little, her attention busy cataloging the contents of the drawing room.
Her gaze lingered on the portrait of Carenza’s family over the mantelpiece. “Your mother doesn’t like to come up to town?” she asked Carenza.
“No, she prefers life in the countryside, as does my father.”
“I suppose that is for the best.” Lady Brenton set down her barely touched tea. “Considering.”
Carenza was beginning to wish she hadn’t chosen to receive her callers, what with Mr. Walcott fencing with Olivia, and Lady Brenton’s avid curiosity about her parents.
“Our parents are very happy together,” Carenza said. “Aren’t they, Allegra?”
“Indeed,” Allegra valiantly backed her up. “They have been married for thirty-five years and are still blissfully in love.”
Lady Brenton shuddered slightly. “I assume your brother intends to marry at some point?”
“I should imagine so,” Carenza said.
“One can only hope that his peers can overlook the … deficiencies in his parentage and allow one of their daughters to marry him.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. He is a handsome man with a large fortune and several thriving estates.” Carenza was getting tired of Lady Brenton looking down her perfect nose at her.
“But the connection …”
Carenza was done being polite. “To what, ma’am?”
“Your mother was an opera singer, yes?”