Chapter 13 #3
“Tell me one,” Augusta said at once, and Ronan couldn’t point out why the curiosity bothered him as much as it did.
“No,” Ronan replied.
Augusta looked toward him, her brows rising. “I did not ask you.”
“You need not, as the answer remains no.”
Gregory smiled. “You see? This is exactly what I mean. The duke would rather issue instructions than actually participate in the conversation at hand.”
“I participate perfectly well when the conversation is worth having.”
“And whether it is worth having is determined entirely by you?”
“Generally.”
Augusta laughed again, lowering her gaze toward her plate. Ronan’s attention shifted from her to Gregory.
His friend caught the look.
“What?” Ronan asked.
Gregory lifted his brows. “I beg your pardon?”
“Gregory,” the warning in Ronan’s voice only seemed to amuse him further.
Augusta looked from one man to the other. “I have the distinct impression that there is a conversation taking place here from which I am being excluded.”
Gregory’s smile widened, but instead of contradicting him immediately, he took a measured sip of wine. “There is no conversation. Ravenhill is simply attempting to determine why I am enjoying myself, which is difficult for him because he tends to regard enjoyment with deep suspicion.”
“Oh, you’re both reading too much into things.” Ronan held his gaze. “All I am trying to decide is whether you are deliberately being more irritating than usual, which is quite the “
Gregory considered that with exaggerated seriousness.
“I do not believe so. Although I admit that meeting your wife has inspired me. She laughs at my observations, which is considerably more rewarding than speaking to you. You generally respond to my finest efforts by staring at me until I begin wondering whether I have accidentally insulted one of your ancestors.”
Augusta laughed again and Ronan’s jaw tightened. Gregory’s eyes flicked toward him.
This time the amusement in them was unmistakable.
There was nothing unusual about Gregory making a woman laugh. He liked women and women liked him as he was charming without effort, and flirtatious in a manner that was rarely offensive because he seemed to flirt with the entire world rather than any one particular woman.
That knowledge ought to have made Ronan indifferent. Instead, every time Augusta laughed, his irritation seemed to deepen.
Augusta turned to Gregory. “How did the two of you become friends in the first place? I admit I find it difficult to imagine. You seem very different.”
“We are,” Gregory replied, settling more comfortably against the back of his chair.
“That is probably why the friendship survived. If there were two Ravenhills in the world, society would collapse under the weight of all that disapproval. If there were two of me, on the other hand, we should probably bankrupt ourselves within the year.”
“You would bankrupt yourselves within a month,” Ronan said.
Gregory nodded. “You see? This is why I keep him. He attends to practical matters while I contribute charm.”
“I have never attended to any practical matter on your behalf.”
“That is terribly ungrateful. Who advised me not to purchase that estate in Derbyshire? And who prevented me from investing in that shipping venture?”
“I told you it was obviously fraudulent.”
“Precisely. Practical matters.”
Augusta smiled. “Then perhaps you complement each other better than either of you is willing to admit.”
Gregory turned toward her with evident approval. “An excellent observation. I have been telling him the same thing for years, although naturally I phrase it in a manner more flattering to myself.”
“You tell me that I would be intolerable without you,” Ronan said.
“And I stand by it.”
Augusta set down her glass. “Now I truly do think I am missing something. You are both speaking as though there is some secret between you.”
“There is no secret,” Ronan told her.
Gregory inclined his head. “None at all. Your husband is simply in a peculiar mood tonight.”
Augusta looked at Ronan for a few seconds, and he became irritatingly conscious of her attention.
“You do seem a little… displeased.”
Ronan glanced across the table. Gregory was looking at him with such unconcealed interest that Ronan immediately regretted allowing the conversation to continue.
“I am accustomed to Gregory,” he said.
Gregory laughed softly. “You handle him remarkably well.”
Augusta, however, appeared to take the remark innocently. “I do not think His Grace requires handling. Although I have discovered that insisting upon an answer is often more effective than waiting for him to volunteer one.”
“That is valuable knowledge,” Gregory replied. “Ronan has perfected the art of remaining silent. You must never reward him for it.”
Ronan looked from one to the other. “You have known each other for an hour.”
“And already we have found common ground,” Gregory said.
Another laugh escaped Augusta, and Ronan felt his grip tighten around his wineglass.
Entirely ridiculous. He did not care whether Gregory entertained Augusta.
Why should he?
She was his wife, certainly, but theirs was not that sort of marriage.
He had been very clear with her from the beginning that he expected nothing from her.
He had asked for companionship, for friendship eventually, and for someone who might bring warmth into Sarah’s life.
He had not married Augusta with the expectation that she would spend every moment looking toward him for amusement.
And yet he suddenly resented how easily Gregory commanded her attention.
Ronan took a drink of wine.
Gregory’s eyes remained on him. If the man did not stop smiling, Ronan was going to ask the footmen to remove him.
The conversation might have continued in that same irritating vein had Gregory not changed the subject a few minutes later.
“I heard Temperance is preparing for the Hetherford ball,” Gregory said, turning toward Augusta. “She has been speaking of little else for the past week. I encountered Sedgewick yesterday.”
Augusta smiled. “She is very excited about it. She visited me earlier this week and informed me that I have been hidden away at Ravenhill long enough. Apparently, if I do not attend soon, people will begin inventing increasingly dramatic explanations for my absence.”
“Oh, they already have,” Gregory replied.
Augusta’s eyes widened. “They have?”
Gregory nodded, clearly enjoying the opportunity to relay society gossip.
“Nothing especially interesting, I am afraid. Half of London believes you and Ravenhill are so besotted with one another that you refuse to leave the estate, while the other half believes you are already living in separate wings and communicating exclusively through solicitors.”
Augusta stared at him before laughing. “Surely not.”
“I exaggerate only slightly. Your marriage was hardly conventional, and people are naturally interested.”
Augusta’s amusement faded into something more thoughtful. “I suppose they would be. I had not really considered it. Everything happened so quickly that I have spent most of my time simply trying to understand my place here.”
Ronan looked at her. There was nothing unhappy in her tone, but he found himself listening more closely nonetheless.
Gregory asked, “And have you decided whether you will attend?”
“Yes,” Augusta replied. “I told Temperance that I would. Charity will be there as well, and Alethea mentioned that she intended to go. I think it will be pleasant to see everyone again, and I cannot remain hidden forever merely because people enjoy gossiping about us.”
“You are not hidden,” Ronan said.
Augusta turned toward him. “I simply mean that I have barely left the estate since we married, and that was my own choice as much as anyone’s. But I think I am ready to return to society now.”
Ronan nodded once.
Gregory, however, appeared to be considering something. “Then you must allow me to keep you company.”
Augusta looked surprised. “Keep me company?”
“At the ball,” Gregory explained. “Ravenhill rarely attends such things.”
Augusta laughed, “I hardly think I would be abandoned. Charity will be there.”
“Charity is married to Blackford, who will undoubtedly steal her away for half the dances, and Temperance becomes distracted the moment she sees someone she knows. You could find yourself alone within minutes.”
“I will attend,” Ronan said.
He immediately disliked the expression that appeared on his friend’s face.
Pure, unmistakable satisfaction.
Gregory rested his forearm against the edge of the table and regarded Ronan with open amusement. “You will?”
“Yes.”
Gregory’s mouth curved. “What a pleasant surprise. I was simply unaware that you had developed an affection for balls.”
“I have not.”
Gregory leaned back, his smile deepening. “Then I admit I am struggling to understand this sudden enthusiasm.”
Augusta was looking between them again, her expression increasingly amused.
Ronan continued before Gregory could say anything else. “My wife is attending. I will accompany her.”
Gregory nodded slowly. “Naturally.”
Augusta looked at Ronan. “You truly mean to come? I would not want you to spend an entire evening doing something you dislike simply because you think you are obliged to.”
“There is no need,” he brushed off her concern. “You are still welcome to attend, Gregory. I am not forbidding you from going.”
Gregory looked up with exaggerated relief. “How generous.”
“Temperance says it will be terribly crowded. She claims everyone in London has been trying to secure invitations.”
“They have,” Gregory told her. “Hetherford has recently renovated the ballroom.
The irritation returned, though there was no reasonable explanation for it.
Ronan had no objection to Augusta speaking with other men. She was a duchess. She would attend countless social events.
Gregory remained for another hour after dinner.
By the time he finally stood to leave, Ronan had exhausted what little patience remained to him.